Tuesday, November 9, 2010
You know you're getting used to this lesbian thing when...
...the major part of your foreplay consists of sitting on the bed, winking at each other, and filing your nails.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Accepting Attraction
When I was little, my dad would come home with awful stories about "gay people"...like the time when the guy in the next stall in the public restroom was playing with his keys. According to my dad, the guy was obviously trying to make a pass at him. Which was, of course, frightening. Strange that my dad, my huge-muscled, intimidating, bear of a man dad, would be scared of a guy playing with his keys. Now, I don't claim to know anything about men's room ettiquite (although I do understand it is complex), so I can't say whether my dad was right. But honestly, why was it frightening? What's one little gay man going to do to my big, burly dad? Wink at him? Lick his lips? Make a sexual remark? Is any of that REALLY frightening?
Maybe I should backtrack a little and explain where my rant is coming from. On a forum I'm a member of, I read another poster discussing the fact that she's not attracted to EVERY female, nor is every gay man attracted to EVERY male. Just like straight people aren't attracted to EVERY person of the opposite sex. But that seems to be the assumption in some circles. If you're queer, your entire focus is sex, 100% of the time.
It got me thinking about my dad's huge fear of gay men. Now, I know my dad is an attractive man. But he's not drop dead gorgeous, not by far. He has a gut, he's fond of jeans and flannel, he has somewhat long, wavy hair. I can pretty much guarantee that not EVERY gay man is gong to be attracted to my dad, simply based on the fact that he's not everyone's type. Not to mention, why on Earth would any gay man WANT to sleep with, or even make a pass at, a man who hates gay people? It seems like that would be a pretty huge automatic turn off.
All this came much later, however. My first thought, as I read this woman's post, was that what my dad (and many homophobes) fear is absolutely not true...in fact, the opposite is true.
You see, when I thought I was straight, every man - EVERY man - was a potential mate. I wasn't truly attracted to them. The determining factor for whether I could handle a relationship with a man was...whether or not he was a man (and therefore acceptable to my parents/society as a partner). After an abusive marriage, I added "non-abusive" to the list. But that was it. I could honestly sum up my "type" by listing two things: penis, won't abuse me.
I dated ugly men. I dated toothless men. I dated drug addicts, immature "boys" who would never grow up, self-proclaimed nazi's, I even dated a guy who totally creeped me the fuck out, and who I was pretty sure would molest children if given the chance (ick! I can't believe I admitted that...but, I may as well be completely honest...I've come this far). I never dated a man I could fall in love with, because I couldn't fall in love with any of them. But I could fuck all of them. Or rather, they could fuck me, thereby making me acceptable, human, worthy...or some dumbed-down version of it, since I would/will never, ever be fully acceptable to my mother.
On the other hand, now that I have accepted my sexuality, I don't view many people as potential mates. I'm extremely selective. Aside from the fact that I'm in a relationship and have no interest in adding a third partner to the mix, I simpy am not attracted to every woman who crosses my path. In fact, for the first time in my life, I have a type! I actually GET what attraction is! It's not about finding someone who will sleep next to me, find me acceptable enough to go out in public with me, and (more importantly) be seen with me in front of my parents. It's not about a piece of paper that says we belong to each other, legally. When I look at a woman, any woman, I can tell you immediately if she is attractive to me. I could never do that with a man. The question of "is he attractive?" stumped me every time. Questions like, "did you see that hot paramedic???" were greeted with, "no, I didn't notice". I thought I was attracted to any man who "liked" me as more than a friend. But I'm not REMOTELY attracted to women in that way. If a woman winked at me, and she wasn't my type, I would have no problem "letting her down easy". I still - STILL - have a hard time with not feeling obligated to return every single pass made at me by a man.
So...this idea that gay people think about nothing other than sex is just ridiculous to me. It's exactly the opposite for me. I was attracted to every man...when I thought I was supposed to be. But now that I'm free to be whatever I AM, the field has narrowed considerably. I'd never consider sleeping with a woman I wasn't attracted to. Why should I? My parents are going to hate me anyway, so fuck 'em. Might as well hold out for a Goddess on Earth. (It didn't take long to find one, but still...I wouldn't have settled for less.)
Maybe I should backtrack a little and explain where my rant is coming from. On a forum I'm a member of, I read another poster discussing the fact that she's not attracted to EVERY female, nor is every gay man attracted to EVERY male. Just like straight people aren't attracted to EVERY person of the opposite sex. But that seems to be the assumption in some circles. If you're queer, your entire focus is sex, 100% of the time.
It got me thinking about my dad's huge fear of gay men. Now, I know my dad is an attractive man. But he's not drop dead gorgeous, not by far. He has a gut, he's fond of jeans and flannel, he has somewhat long, wavy hair. I can pretty much guarantee that not EVERY gay man is gong to be attracted to my dad, simply based on the fact that he's not everyone's type. Not to mention, why on Earth would any gay man WANT to sleep with, or even make a pass at, a man who hates gay people? It seems like that would be a pretty huge automatic turn off.
All this came much later, however. My first thought, as I read this woman's post, was that what my dad (and many homophobes) fear is absolutely not true...in fact, the opposite is true.
You see, when I thought I was straight, every man - EVERY man - was a potential mate. I wasn't truly attracted to them. The determining factor for whether I could handle a relationship with a man was...whether or not he was a man (and therefore acceptable to my parents/society as a partner). After an abusive marriage, I added "non-abusive" to the list. But that was it. I could honestly sum up my "type" by listing two things: penis, won't abuse me.
I dated ugly men. I dated toothless men. I dated drug addicts, immature "boys" who would never grow up, self-proclaimed nazi's, I even dated a guy who totally creeped me the fuck out, and who I was pretty sure would molest children if given the chance (ick! I can't believe I admitted that...but, I may as well be completely honest...I've come this far). I never dated a man I could fall in love with, because I couldn't fall in love with any of them. But I could fuck all of them. Or rather, they could fuck me, thereby making me acceptable, human, worthy...or some dumbed-down version of it, since I would/will never, ever be fully acceptable to my mother.
On the other hand, now that I have accepted my sexuality, I don't view many people as potential mates. I'm extremely selective. Aside from the fact that I'm in a relationship and have no interest in adding a third partner to the mix, I simpy am not attracted to every woman who crosses my path. In fact, for the first time in my life, I have a type! I actually GET what attraction is! It's not about finding someone who will sleep next to me, find me acceptable enough to go out in public with me, and (more importantly) be seen with me in front of my parents. It's not about a piece of paper that says we belong to each other, legally. When I look at a woman, any woman, I can tell you immediately if she is attractive to me. I could never do that with a man. The question of "is he attractive?" stumped me every time. Questions like, "did you see that hot paramedic???" were greeted with, "no, I didn't notice". I thought I was attracted to any man who "liked" me as more than a friend. But I'm not REMOTELY attracted to women in that way. If a woman winked at me, and she wasn't my type, I would have no problem "letting her down easy". I still - STILL - have a hard time with not feeling obligated to return every single pass made at me by a man.
So...this idea that gay people think about nothing other than sex is just ridiculous to me. It's exactly the opposite for me. I was attracted to every man...when I thought I was supposed to be. But now that I'm free to be whatever I AM, the field has narrowed considerably. I'd never consider sleeping with a woman I wasn't attracted to. Why should I? My parents are going to hate me anyway, so fuck 'em. Might as well hold out for a Goddess on Earth. (It didn't take long to find one, but still...I wouldn't have settled for less.)
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Feminist Wife / Slave to Patriarchy...yeah, whatever, same thing.
Originally posted July 22, 2010
I've had so little time in front of a computer for the last 7 months that I haven't bothered with either of my blogs. I've had so much on my mind lately that I decided I'm going to somehow find the time to come here and write something. It's been so long that I forgot which email account I was using, and had to reset my password...snicker...but here I am!
I do a lot of processing in my car...I drive a LOT. My drive each way to work is about 40 minutes, and driving to and from my love's house each week takes 45 minutes to an hour. That gives me approximately 7 hours per week to think. Having no stereo in my vehicle is a huge incentive to do such thinking, too.
So, I was driving and thinking recently. I ordered this book from paperbackswap called "From Wedded Wife To Lesbian Life", and I'm finding myself in the pages. What had me thinking during my 40 minute drive to work was a story of a woman who was a feminist, very independent in her marriage, and once she left and came out of the closet, she realized that despite all her insistence to the contrary, she had spent her entire life trying to live up to a patriarchal ideal.
Yep, that would be me.
Oh goddess no, not me...never! My husband was a feminist, too! I mean, he never actually said that...and he never really spoke up about sexist comments his friends would make...and he never really defended women when men were harassing them...and he never exactly DID anything that would sorta "prove" that he's a feminist...but he supported me. That makes him a feminist...right? Sorta?
Yeah, no. Notsomuch.
After I left my first [abusive] husband, I did everything I could to distance myself from anything that might suggest a patriarchal system...family, marriage...I learned about abuse, I spent 4 1/2 years immersing myself in self-help books, support groups, literature, you name it...all to avoid the same pattern.
Then, I met my second husband. He wasn't abusive. He was hilarious. He and I have similar personalities, we get along great, and the only problem I could see was his INTENSE, ALL-CONSUMING need to procrastinate. He was...I can now say, honestly...the best I thought I'd ever find. I settled. That makes me so sad for him. But it's true. I loved him, and still do, as a person, as a friend, as a nice guy that I'm proud to have in my life...but I was never in love with him.
I didn't believe in marriage and didn't want kids when I met him. Eventually, I developed an almost desperate...no, not almost...a desperate need - NEED! - to have our union on paper. Marriage was my idea. Me, the feminist, anti-patriarchy, anti-marriage, anti-societal "norms", free woman...I NEEDED marriage. I was terrified that my "good enough" catch was going to leave me, that I wasn't good enough.
Oh gods, this is painful. To admit, to write, to recognize! To finally understand that this was where I was coming from! I didn't understand at the time why I felt so compelled to convince him to love me, to marry me, to start a family with me...he was reluctant. He would deny it til he was blue in the face, but it took him a year and three months to tell me he LOVED me...just those words, no commitment, no long-term NOTHING...just "I love you" took THATLONG. My ass he wasn't reluctant. I refused to see it. I'd just tell him, "if you don't hurry up, I'm going to leave you"...so then, he'd hurry up, to prove that he wasn't reluctant after all. Pfft. Just TRY and tell me this marriage was meant to be. Ha!
I was desperate to fit into society...under the auspices of having a "feminist" husband. I was a free woman...with a wedding ring. I was liberated...the legal document that tied me to another person was just for the legal rights...right? I'm ashamed to admit this now, having learned a little about the world of adoption...but I was terrified to get pregnant (and he made it impossible anyway...long story that I probably won't delve into in this blog)...so, wanting that whitepicketfence American Dream family, we decided to adopt (and by "we decided", I mean that I talked him into it...just like everything else).
Thankfully, we were never chosen. It horrifies me to look back on that time in my life - my entire relationship with husband #2 - and recognize how caught up I was in a patriarchal society, the expectation of my parents and community that I would be "normal", straight, that I would have a nice little house in a nice little neighborhood with a nice little husband and some nice little children that I would be a perfect cake-baking, soccer team Mommy to...like forever. The fact that I had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA (at least, not that I was willing to admit to myself or anyone else) that I'm a lesbian, or that I was disavowing my own convictions by my actions, that I just kind of put on my blinders and focused on the end goal of achieving this family unit that I have never in my life had any interest in having (save for the purpose of appearances)...it's insane. I was working toward the opposite of my life goals, having convinced myself that this path was right in line with what I wanted.
How did I convince myself that THAT was who I am? And WHY?
I've had so little time in front of a computer for the last 7 months that I haven't bothered with either of my blogs. I've had so much on my mind lately that I decided I'm going to somehow find the time to come here and write something. It's been so long that I forgot which email account I was using, and had to reset my password...snicker...but here I am!
I do a lot of processing in my car...I drive a LOT. My drive each way to work is about 40 minutes, and driving to and from my love's house each week takes 45 minutes to an hour. That gives me approximately 7 hours per week to think. Having no stereo in my vehicle is a huge incentive to do such thinking, too.
So, I was driving and thinking recently. I ordered this book from paperbackswap called "From Wedded Wife To Lesbian Life", and I'm finding myself in the pages. What had me thinking during my 40 minute drive to work was a story of a woman who was a feminist, very independent in her marriage, and once she left and came out of the closet, she realized that despite all her insistence to the contrary, she had spent her entire life trying to live up to a patriarchal ideal.
Yep, that would be me.
Oh goddess no, not me...never! My husband was a feminist, too! I mean, he never actually said that...and he never really spoke up about sexist comments his friends would make...and he never really defended women when men were harassing them...and he never exactly DID anything that would sorta "prove" that he's a feminist...but he supported me. That makes him a feminist...right? Sorta?
Yeah, no. Notsomuch.
After I left my first [abusive] husband, I did everything I could to distance myself from anything that might suggest a patriarchal system...family, marriage...I learned about abuse, I spent 4 1/2 years immersing myself in self-help books, support groups, literature, you name it...all to avoid the same pattern.
Then, I met my second husband. He wasn't abusive. He was hilarious. He and I have similar personalities, we get along great, and the only problem I could see was his INTENSE, ALL-CONSUMING need to procrastinate. He was...I can now say, honestly...the best I thought I'd ever find. I settled. That makes me so sad for him. But it's true. I loved him, and still do, as a person, as a friend, as a nice guy that I'm proud to have in my life...but I was never in love with him.
I didn't believe in marriage and didn't want kids when I met him. Eventually, I developed an almost desperate...no, not almost...a desperate need - NEED! - to have our union on paper. Marriage was my idea. Me, the feminist, anti-patriarchy, anti-marriage, anti-societal "norms", free woman...I NEEDED marriage. I was terrified that my "good enough" catch was going to leave me, that I wasn't good enough.
Oh gods, this is painful. To admit, to write, to recognize! To finally understand that this was where I was coming from! I didn't understand at the time why I felt so compelled to convince him to love me, to marry me, to start a family with me...he was reluctant. He would deny it til he was blue in the face, but it took him a year and three months to tell me he LOVED me...just those words, no commitment, no long-term NOTHING...just "I love you" took THATLONG. My ass he wasn't reluctant. I refused to see it. I'd just tell him, "if you don't hurry up, I'm going to leave you"...so then, he'd hurry up, to prove that he wasn't reluctant after all. Pfft. Just TRY and tell me this marriage was meant to be. Ha!
I was desperate to fit into society...under the auspices of having a "feminist" husband. I was a free woman...with a wedding ring. I was liberated...the legal document that tied me to another person was just for the legal rights...right? I'm ashamed to admit this now, having learned a little about the world of adoption...but I was terrified to get pregnant (and he made it impossible anyway...long story that I probably won't delve into in this blog)...so, wanting that whitepicketfence American Dream family, we decided to adopt (and by "we decided", I mean that I talked him into it...just like everything else).
Thankfully, we were never chosen. It horrifies me to look back on that time in my life - my entire relationship with husband #2 - and recognize how caught up I was in a patriarchal society, the expectation of my parents and community that I would be "normal", straight, that I would have a nice little house in a nice little neighborhood with a nice little husband and some nice little children that I would be a perfect cake-baking, soccer team Mommy to...like forever. The fact that I had ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA (at least, not that I was willing to admit to myself or anyone else) that I'm a lesbian, or that I was disavowing my own convictions by my actions, that I just kind of put on my blinders and focused on the end goal of achieving this family unit that I have never in my life had any interest in having (save for the purpose of appearances)...it's insane. I was working toward the opposite of my life goals, having convinced myself that this path was right in line with what I wanted.
How did I convince myself that THAT was who I am? And WHY?
Peaceful Reunion...NOT
Originally posted January 5, 2010
Sorry I've been so quiet lately. It was a very busy winter break...I was here, there, and everywhere.
A few nights ago, I had a dream that I thought was going to change my life. I was wrong. In this dream, I lived with my parents...peacefully. I don't remember details of the dream, but the only thing that matters is that we lived peacefully. I thought that meant that I would find a way to have a good relationship with my parents. After all, the house represents the self...so, in my dream, I found a way to live peacefully, sharing my self with my family.
Later on that day, in a weird coincidence, I ran into my little brother at the store. I just happened to be visiting my home town to see some friends, and boom, there he was. It was a short visit, but a good one. My brother is always respectful of my boundaries. He doesn't like it, but he believes me, trusts that I'm doing what I need to do, and backs off when I ask him to. So, I got to see my brand new nephew, my new sister in law, and then I got to remind my brother that I still needed time. He was cool with that, and we separated on a good note.
I went home feeling like it was time to reconnect. Time to find a way to have a relationship with my parents...and I felt tiny inklings of confidence that I might be able to find a way to live peacefully with them in my life. Ugh. Sometimes I hate hope. Right now is one of those times. I got myself all worked up, believing in the possibilities...and then BAM! Fuck. Whatever, man. Just, whatever.
So through this whole time that I haven't been speaking to my family (about a year and a half), my mom has tried to find little ways to get in touch with me, even though I have asked that they not contact me. Every time I get a phone call on my ex's phone, or an email sent to my work, or an invitation to be friends on a social networking site, it just reminds me that my mother has absolutely no clue how to respect another human being's boundaries, and I'm much better off just not being around her. (I have an issue with all of my family members for different reasons, but I'll be honest: my mother is really the only reason I don't have ANY contact...if it weren't for her, I would just deal with the family dynamics, and I probably would have learned to speak my mind many years ago.)
So, while I was still in my happy place, thinking I might be able to reconnect with my family, mulling over what I would say in a letter...my mother found yet another sneaky way to violate my boundaries. I wouldn't add her as a friend on facebook...so she figured out that if she posted a message on my aunt's page, I would get it.
Well...there went all my hope...all my thoughts of a peaceful reunion...again, whatever, man. Just fucking WHATEVER! Maybe a little boundary violation doesn't seem like a big thing, but like I've said before, taken in context with my mother's inability to respect other human beings, her tendency toward abuse, etc...this tiny little boundary violation was a huge wake up call. I simply can NOT have a safe relationship with my mother. And as long as she and my dad are married, I can't have a safe relationship with him, either. And my brother still lives at home, so he's out, too. And my sister...well, she hasn't spoken to me in years anyway.
Fucking whatever, man.
Sorry I've been so quiet lately. It was a very busy winter break...I was here, there, and everywhere.
A few nights ago, I had a dream that I thought was going to change my life. I was wrong. In this dream, I lived with my parents...peacefully. I don't remember details of the dream, but the only thing that matters is that we lived peacefully. I thought that meant that I would find a way to have a good relationship with my parents. After all, the house represents the self...so, in my dream, I found a way to live peacefully, sharing my self with my family.
Later on that day, in a weird coincidence, I ran into my little brother at the store. I just happened to be visiting my home town to see some friends, and boom, there he was. It was a short visit, but a good one. My brother is always respectful of my boundaries. He doesn't like it, but he believes me, trusts that I'm doing what I need to do, and backs off when I ask him to. So, I got to see my brand new nephew, my new sister in law, and then I got to remind my brother that I still needed time. He was cool with that, and we separated on a good note.
I went home feeling like it was time to reconnect. Time to find a way to have a relationship with my parents...and I felt tiny inklings of confidence that I might be able to find a way to live peacefully with them in my life. Ugh. Sometimes I hate hope. Right now is one of those times. I got myself all worked up, believing in the possibilities...and then BAM! Fuck. Whatever, man. Just, whatever.
So through this whole time that I haven't been speaking to my family (about a year and a half), my mom has tried to find little ways to get in touch with me, even though I have asked that they not contact me. Every time I get a phone call on my ex's phone, or an email sent to my work, or an invitation to be friends on a social networking site, it just reminds me that my mother has absolutely no clue how to respect another human being's boundaries, and I'm much better off just not being around her. (I have an issue with all of my family members for different reasons, but I'll be honest: my mother is really the only reason I don't have ANY contact...if it weren't for her, I would just deal with the family dynamics, and I probably would have learned to speak my mind many years ago.)
So, while I was still in my happy place, thinking I might be able to reconnect with my family, mulling over what I would say in a letter...my mother found yet another sneaky way to violate my boundaries. I wouldn't add her as a friend on facebook...so she figured out that if she posted a message on my aunt's page, I would get it.
Well...there went all my hope...all my thoughts of a peaceful reunion...again, whatever, man. Just fucking WHATEVER! Maybe a little boundary violation doesn't seem like a big thing, but like I've said before, taken in context with my mother's inability to respect other human beings, her tendency toward abuse, etc...this tiny little boundary violation was a huge wake up call. I simply can NOT have a safe relationship with my mother. And as long as she and my dad are married, I can't have a safe relationship with him, either. And my brother still lives at home, so he's out, too. And my sister...well, she hasn't spoken to me in years anyway.
Fucking whatever, man.
Gender Differences
Originally posted December 26, 2009
I figured it out...the thing with gender differences that I wrote about in this post. It took me a few days to realize that I had hit the nail on the head in yet another post. I choose the people I have in my life based on certain roles I need filled...duh. So, the reason I have certain feelings about gender differences is because these are the traits I've seen all my life in each gender...and the reason I've seen those traits is because I CHOSE to...and I chose those particular people with those particular traits because my parents had those traits.
I appreciate it when I find new things I can blame on my parents. Heehee.
I figured it out...the thing with gender differences that I wrote about in this post. It took me a few days to realize that I had hit the nail on the head in yet another post. I choose the people I have in my life based on certain roles I need filled...duh. So, the reason I have certain feelings about gender differences is because these are the traits I've seen all my life in each gender...and the reason I've seen those traits is because I CHOSE to...and I chose those particular people with those particular traits because my parents had those traits.
I appreciate it when I find new things I can blame on my parents. Heehee.
Dealing With Emotions
Originally posted December 22, 2009
Maybe one of the reasons I dated/married men all these years was because they don't deal with emotions the same way women do. Women HAVE emotions. Women FEEL emotions. We can even get lost in emotions. Men, on the other hand, deal with emotions as little as possible. They tend to look at emotions logically, or ignore them altogether.
I totally realize I'm generalizing here, and I don't intend for this to mean EVERY woman is open about her emotions, or that EVERY man is logical. Those that I have had in my life have fit this pattern...and I know that I choose people based on whatever it is that I need at that time. I have specifically chosen men that remind me of my father. My first husband was uncompromising, irrational, "manly", and fun. My second husband sleep-walked through life, was hilarious, gentle, and warm. All of the above are traits one will find are very strong in my father. Right before I left my second husband, we were reading a book with the intention of "saving" our marriage, and we learned all about imago and the kind of partner you choose to fulfill your needs...and both of my husbands fit that pattern to a T. I needed them in my life. Not just MEN, but THOSE men, in particular. And of course, the women I have chosen to have in my life tend to remind me of my mother (it pains me terribly to say that, and I'm going to choose not to dwell on specific characteristics like I did my father/husbands...I'm only willing to go so far with my acceptance of this phenomenon at this point in my life...but suffice it to say, I do understand that my mother is a factor in my choice of women).
Now I need to really reel myself back in. I just spent a ridiculous amount of time explaining myself, and totally got off my point...but whatever.
My POINT was, dealing with emotions. This is something I'm not used to. I'm used to the men in my life (the ones I chose specifically because they had traits like my father, who sleep-walked his way through life, not paying attention to the fact that my mother was abusing me, etc...so yeah, no dealing with emotions there). My second husband has a very well developed method for avoiding emotion in real life. He ACTS like he's dealing with emotion - and he is a fabulous actor. He should really be in Hollywood, he's that good. He had my ass convinced for 8 years that he wasn't shying away from emotion.
So this idea of actually dealing with emotions - not just pretending, not being ignored or put on the back burner - is an entirely new concept for me. It's hard to get used to, and I've already noticed some major issues that I have with it. When my emotions are acceptable, and I'm safe to express them...I tend to go into shock. All my fears of abandonment come racing to the surface, and I start feeling the need to protect myself. After all, ANY emotion I had, as a child, was absolutely unacceptable. Once I started expressing emotion, people left, or hurt me, or threatened to leave, or withdrew inside themselves, etc. No one ever dealt with REAL emotions when I was a child. And my whole life, until the last couple years or so, I have surrounded myself with people who followed this same pattern.
Oh no...I'm starting to get off on another topic...but one that's WELL worth another blog. I hope I remember to complete that thought another time.
At any rate, the idea that I am now choosing to spend my life with people (women in particular) who don't run from emotion, and who encourage the raw, frightening, vulnerability of truly expressing whatever I'm going through (and whatever she is going through as well) is still new to me. I'm having some trouble finding my equilibrium here.
This is actually where I'm at in my relationship. I noticed that over the last couple weeks or so, my emotions were intense, and not in a positive way. I was getting more and more dissolutioned with myself, my relationship, and most especially with the reasons for my emotions. It got downright frightening the other night when I was visiting my girlfriend, and my state of mind just went all kinds of wrong. I ended up leaving nearly in tears simply because she had set a very reasonable boundary. She informed me the next day that I was starting to raise my voice at her (which I NEVER do...I raised my voice at my ex husband ONCE in 8 years). About a half hour after I left, it hit me full-force: I was acting codependent!
Oh my...I've done so much work, HARD work, to escape codependency. I'm well aware that it never truly, completely goes away, and that one must remain diligent...and this was a glaring reminder of that. I just hadn't expected it to crop up so immediately, so suddenly, and after we have only been together just over a month (we have known each other right around 2 months). This was a HUGE signal for me that I need to step back, do some intense self care, and refocus my attention on my emotional health. I need to keep my words on my side of the fence, and quit worrying about whether she's meeting my needs. I KNOW that she's doing her best, and that if her love isn't enough as it is, it's my responsibility to ask for what I need...not her responsibility to provide it. But man...it's so easy to slip into that comfort zone of codependency when I'm actually FEELING my emotions. It's scary shit! I can't believe how terrified I am/was that she would leave me if I acted like myself, my TRUE self, my broken, damaged, emotional, sensitive, survivor self, who only one person in my whole life has ever truly seen.
I told her I was going to step back for a couple days, do some personal work, and come back to her with some new information, a new perspective, and a commitment to avoid ever treating her that way again (of course, I understand I'm human and may mess up again in the future...but I'm determined to avoid a repeat of this particular circumstance, if I possibly can...and I think that if I truly do the work I need to do, I will be able to avoid this again). I've been working like a dog these last two days, so tomorrow I will be sitting down and busting out all this emotional, heavy work, and figuring out how to not ever do this again. My goal here is to figure out how to be my authentic self (broken pieces and all) without putting my shit on her side of the fence.
I love this journey. Every fucking second of it. Every painful, emotional, beautiful, magickal second of it. "I want to taste it all"! ~Gaia Consort
Maybe one of the reasons I dated/married men all these years was because they don't deal with emotions the same way women do. Women HAVE emotions. Women FEEL emotions. We can even get lost in emotions. Men, on the other hand, deal with emotions as little as possible. They tend to look at emotions logically, or ignore them altogether.
I totally realize I'm generalizing here, and I don't intend for this to mean EVERY woman is open about her emotions, or that EVERY man is logical. Those that I have had in my life have fit this pattern...and I know that I choose people based on whatever it is that I need at that time. I have specifically chosen men that remind me of my father. My first husband was uncompromising, irrational, "manly", and fun. My second husband sleep-walked through life, was hilarious, gentle, and warm. All of the above are traits one will find are very strong in my father. Right before I left my second husband, we were reading a book with the intention of "saving" our marriage, and we learned all about imago and the kind of partner you choose to fulfill your needs...and both of my husbands fit that pattern to a T. I needed them in my life. Not just MEN, but THOSE men, in particular. And of course, the women I have chosen to have in my life tend to remind me of my mother (it pains me terribly to say that, and I'm going to choose not to dwell on specific characteristics like I did my father/husbands...I'm only willing to go so far with my acceptance of this phenomenon at this point in my life...but suffice it to say, I do understand that my mother is a factor in my choice of women).
Now I need to really reel myself back in. I just spent a ridiculous amount of time explaining myself, and totally got off my point...but whatever.
My POINT was, dealing with emotions. This is something I'm not used to. I'm used to the men in my life (the ones I chose specifically because they had traits like my father, who sleep-walked his way through life, not paying attention to the fact that my mother was abusing me, etc...so yeah, no dealing with emotions there). My second husband has a very well developed method for avoiding emotion in real life. He ACTS like he's dealing with emotion - and he is a fabulous actor. He should really be in Hollywood, he's that good. He had my ass convinced for 8 years that he wasn't shying away from emotion.
So this idea of actually dealing with emotions - not just pretending, not being ignored or put on the back burner - is an entirely new concept for me. It's hard to get used to, and I've already noticed some major issues that I have with it. When my emotions are acceptable, and I'm safe to express them...I tend to go into shock. All my fears of abandonment come racing to the surface, and I start feeling the need to protect myself. After all, ANY emotion I had, as a child, was absolutely unacceptable. Once I started expressing emotion, people left, or hurt me, or threatened to leave, or withdrew inside themselves, etc. No one ever dealt with REAL emotions when I was a child. And my whole life, until the last couple years or so, I have surrounded myself with people who followed this same pattern.
Oh no...I'm starting to get off on another topic...but one that's WELL worth another blog. I hope I remember to complete that thought another time.
At any rate, the idea that I am now choosing to spend my life with people (women in particular) who don't run from emotion, and who encourage the raw, frightening, vulnerability of truly expressing whatever I'm going through (and whatever she is going through as well) is still new to me. I'm having some trouble finding my equilibrium here.
This is actually where I'm at in my relationship. I noticed that over the last couple weeks or so, my emotions were intense, and not in a positive way. I was getting more and more dissolutioned with myself, my relationship, and most especially with the reasons for my emotions. It got downright frightening the other night when I was visiting my girlfriend, and my state of mind just went all kinds of wrong. I ended up leaving nearly in tears simply because she had set a very reasonable boundary. She informed me the next day that I was starting to raise my voice at her (which I NEVER do...I raised my voice at my ex husband ONCE in 8 years). About a half hour after I left, it hit me full-force: I was acting codependent!
Oh my...I've done so much work, HARD work, to escape codependency. I'm well aware that it never truly, completely goes away, and that one must remain diligent...and this was a glaring reminder of that. I just hadn't expected it to crop up so immediately, so suddenly, and after we have only been together just over a month (we have known each other right around 2 months). This was a HUGE signal for me that I need to step back, do some intense self care, and refocus my attention on my emotional health. I need to keep my words on my side of the fence, and quit worrying about whether she's meeting my needs. I KNOW that she's doing her best, and that if her love isn't enough as it is, it's my responsibility to ask for what I need...not her responsibility to provide it. But man...it's so easy to slip into that comfort zone of codependency when I'm actually FEELING my emotions. It's scary shit! I can't believe how terrified I am/was that she would leave me if I acted like myself, my TRUE self, my broken, damaged, emotional, sensitive, survivor self, who only one person in my whole life has ever truly seen.
I told her I was going to step back for a couple days, do some personal work, and come back to her with some new information, a new perspective, and a commitment to avoid ever treating her that way again (of course, I understand I'm human and may mess up again in the future...but I'm determined to avoid a repeat of this particular circumstance, if I possibly can...and I think that if I truly do the work I need to do, I will be able to avoid this again). I've been working like a dog these last two days, so tomorrow I will be sitting down and busting out all this emotional, heavy work, and figuring out how to not ever do this again. My goal here is to figure out how to be my authentic self (broken pieces and all) without putting my shit on her side of the fence.
I love this journey. Every fucking second of it. Every painful, emotional, beautiful, magickal second of it. "I want to taste it all"! ~Gaia Consort
Why I Bloomed Late
Originally posted December 19, 2009
This is something I have questioned constantly since the day I realized that I'm gay. There are many reasons, many layers, and there are still many questions. For instance, my parents have questioned my sexuality numerous times...now why would that be, if they believe it's a choice? Especially since the "choice" I made all these years was to be with men? If they really believed that homosexuality was a choice, they wouldn't even wonder if I was gay - they'd just deny the possibility, period. So, somewhere in the back of their minds, hidden behind all their dusty old beliefs, they MUST understand that it's not something I chose.
But anyway, that's yet another blog for yet another day. The question at hand is why did I not realize that I'm a lesbian until I was almost 33 years old? I'm thinking specifically of just one reason - probably the main reason. My family.
As I've mentioned, my family was pretty abusive. Physically, mentally, emotionally, verbally, and (mildly, if there is such a thing) sexually. My parents never outright molested me, but my mom did quite a few things that ensured that my sister and I would be forever uncomfortable in our bodies. The day my sister started her period, my mom ran up and down the halls screaming that my sister was a woman and had started her period. I'm sure some would question whether that particular act could be considered abusive, but taken in context with the abusive nature my mother embodies, that one act is just a small example of her abusive tactics. She made comments about my (very large) breasts, constantly, in public. And of course, both of my parents made horrible, disparaging remarks about homosexuality, pretty much constantly.
A few weeks ago, I realized that as a child, I was very, very obviously attracted to females and not males. Men and boys used me for their pleasure. But I never once sought out a man or boy for my own pleasure. When I played doctor, it was with other little girls. I dated a boy when I was maybe 10 years old, but played sex games with his sister. I never touched him, not even to hug.
Now, there are two important things to note here. #1, my parents never taught me appropriate boundaries with other children. I remember as a child knowing that it was wrong, but not understanding why. My parents never pulled me aside and explained that it's not appropriate to touch other children's genitals. And #2, my parents HAD to have known what was happening. I can recall at least once when I was caught with a little girl playing doctor. I remember being shocked that my parents didn't say anything to me. They didn't see anything, because I refused to open my door...but rather than insisting that we talk about it, or even forcing the door open (which would have totally been in character for my authoritarian parents), they chose to act as though nothing had happened.
I believe that they simply chose to avoid any and all discussion of appropriate boundaries simply because it was so OBVIOUS that I only had boundary issues with other little girls. They simply couldn't handle the thought that I might be gay - and they certainly couldn't handle the thought that I was obviously born that way, since the first time I got caught I was like 2 years old. And so, they made a conscious decision to just pretend like it wasn't happening. If they ignored it, maybe I'd just somehow not be gay...right?
I think that attitude rubbed off on me a little. If I just ignored my attraction to women, then I'd be straight...somehow.
I don't even want to know how the conversation would go if I brought all this up to them now...but it would be fun to be a fly on the wall.
This is something I have questioned constantly since the day I realized that I'm gay. There are many reasons, many layers, and there are still many questions. For instance, my parents have questioned my sexuality numerous times...now why would that be, if they believe it's a choice? Especially since the "choice" I made all these years was to be with men? If they really believed that homosexuality was a choice, they wouldn't even wonder if I was gay - they'd just deny the possibility, period. So, somewhere in the back of their minds, hidden behind all their dusty old beliefs, they MUST understand that it's not something I chose.
But anyway, that's yet another blog for yet another day. The question at hand is why did I not realize that I'm a lesbian until I was almost 33 years old? I'm thinking specifically of just one reason - probably the main reason. My family.
As I've mentioned, my family was pretty abusive. Physically, mentally, emotionally, verbally, and (mildly, if there is such a thing) sexually. My parents never outright molested me, but my mom did quite a few things that ensured that my sister and I would be forever uncomfortable in our bodies. The day my sister started her period, my mom ran up and down the halls screaming that my sister was a woman and had started her period. I'm sure some would question whether that particular act could be considered abusive, but taken in context with the abusive nature my mother embodies, that one act is just a small example of her abusive tactics. She made comments about my (very large) breasts, constantly, in public. And of course, both of my parents made horrible, disparaging remarks about homosexuality, pretty much constantly.
A few weeks ago, I realized that as a child, I was very, very obviously attracted to females and not males. Men and boys used me for their pleasure. But I never once sought out a man or boy for my own pleasure. When I played doctor, it was with other little girls. I dated a boy when I was maybe 10 years old, but played sex games with his sister. I never touched him, not even to hug.
Now, there are two important things to note here. #1, my parents never taught me appropriate boundaries with other children. I remember as a child knowing that it was wrong, but not understanding why. My parents never pulled me aside and explained that it's not appropriate to touch other children's genitals. And #2, my parents HAD to have known what was happening. I can recall at least once when I was caught with a little girl playing doctor. I remember being shocked that my parents didn't say anything to me. They didn't see anything, because I refused to open my door...but rather than insisting that we talk about it, or even forcing the door open (which would have totally been in character for my authoritarian parents), they chose to act as though nothing had happened.
I believe that they simply chose to avoid any and all discussion of appropriate boundaries simply because it was so OBVIOUS that I only had boundary issues with other little girls. They simply couldn't handle the thought that I might be gay - and they certainly couldn't handle the thought that I was obviously born that way, since the first time I got caught I was like 2 years old. And so, they made a conscious decision to just pretend like it wasn't happening. If they ignored it, maybe I'd just somehow not be gay...right?
I think that attitude rubbed off on me a little. If I just ignored my attraction to women, then I'd be straight...somehow.
I don't even want to know how the conversation would go if I brought all this up to them now...but it would be fun to be a fly on the wall.
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