i’m tired.

i’m tired of apologizing for the person i am. i’m tired of worrying that i have to choose between happiness in this life and happiness in the next. i’m tired of the nightmares. i’m tired of the isolation. i’m tired of hearing, ‘we don’t agree with it, but we love you anyway.’

i’m absolutely dried up and exhausted. there’s nothing left inside of me to give.

i went to the bird and baby yesterday with a friend and we wrote in silence for hours. it’s been a year since i’ve written a word of fiction, and nearly that long since i’ve read one. saturday, i spent three hours writing stream-of-consciousness in preparation for the story that keeps wanting to be told. there is a girl inside of me, and she has something to say. i can only hope that i am able to get out of the way in time.

i’ve spent a lifetime in christianity, claiming to be fine. everything’s okay. i’m not struggling. i’m just peachy. jesus-loves-me-this-i-know. pretending. hiding. “jesus saved me, hallelujah. not that there was anything to save me from. i’ve got it together, don’t you know?”

i’m over it.

i don’t mind saying now – i’m tired. and i’m not convinced anymore that the thing i’ve flagellated myself for over the past twenty-odd years is the thing i should have been flagellating myself for. i’ve claimed to know god for most of my life, to really know him – more than others, even.

i’m terrified of him.

not a moment goes by that i don’t second guess every footfall, every breath. i’ve immobilized myself with fear.

there has got to be more to life than this.

there is a girl in a smudgy world and a story that she needs to tell. there is a house with a history. a lifetime full of people who need the hope that this girl can give.

these things are inside of me, swirl within me like a whirlwind. i think about this girl, and her world, and her need for the story inside of her, which parallels my own. the details are swaddled in the blackest smoke and though i squint and swirl, they elude me.

who is this girl? how am i the one that has come to have her story deep within me?

i keep waiting for this magic, this greatness to overtake me and write itself out of me.

why do i feel the need to create? is this pulling an evidence of something greater, another creator? is there a god whose imagination and joy i feel compelled to imitate?

and if so, what happens if i fail?

the nightsky is dark, and blue, and the clouds that looked like cities in the sky at noontime are thinner now and move with a sleepy stealth.

is there a god somewhere behind all of this? within it?

i stoop to talk to my inner child. “stand with me awhile?” she will. i watch my puppy, the boy, sniff around, looking for a spot to do his business. i realize that at some point a few weeks ago, i would have been grouchy with him for taking so long and possibly even jerked at his leash to get him to speed things along. but tonight, the air is so cool and perfect, and there is a cicada somewhere professing its satisfaction with this one summer night. and i decide to let myself touch the beauty of the earth.

i stand on the patio with my hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans, head tipped back, finding shapes in the twilight clouds.

a rabbit.

a musket gun.

a scuba mask.

i did not take myself to a movie tonight. i did not eat chinese in the park. a friend of mine called. “i’m in from LA, just. do you have any time?” we split spontaneous calzones and shared stories of where the past year has taken us. we walked downtown, ate ice cream, talked about music, love, life. i have missed her.

the boy is finished before i know it and is soon waiting on me to take him inside, for once. he settles – time for bed – and i settle too. the window is open and the night is pouring in. i am a little proud of myself. i have stopped briefly and stretched my heart outward. i have opened my eyes and seen the world around me.

it is bigger than my aching.

it is summer now, like it was then, and it’s a relief to me to walk outside and feel the sun on my face. the sky has been a chalky blue for days and spotted with looming cloud-cities and floating white islands.

it is windows-down weather.

and i am terrified that tomorrow i will wake up and it will be gone.

for so long (ninemonths) i have lived under the weight that everything i wanted in life is not mine for the having and that i must find a way to make do with what is left. i have woken in the morning to find that i am still trapped, still alone, still buried under the memories of a time when life was good. yesterday and today, i have felt good – no, better than good – optimistic for the first time in a long time.

i got paid yesterday. when i leave work tonight, i will walk down main street and take in summer. i will grab some good chinese for dinner and eat it in the park. i will take myself to a movie. i might even buy a fresh pair of chucks, if i can find a sale bin somewhere.

if tomorrow is grey, if the humidity returns, if i find that i’m pinned to my mattress once again when i open my eyes in the morning, i will cling to the blue and the white and the independence of today.

• i am a lesbian.
• i don’t know what i believe about god.
• i am interested in finding and telling the truth. finally.

now, i will tell you a story:

i found out this year what it’s like to have your heart broken. i learned what it’s like to be razed to the ground and scorched. destroyed. demolished. reduced to rubble.

i don’t want to be dramatic.

all of the things that made me me were erased over the course of nine months. september through june. nine months. people have conceived, incubated, and given birth to whole children – sometimes more than one – in the amount of time that it has taken me to grieve this relationship. losing your first love is a bitch, i don’t mind saying.

the person i loved most in the world, the person who promised me that she would always love and protect me, that’s the person who took my heart and ransacked it. she laid it bare, and left it empty. and, nine months later, i’m only just now able to start thinking about filling it again. and i look at the emptiness inside of me, at the hole she left, and i wonder, “how do i know what to put back in?”

the reason i’m writing now is because i would have given up god for her in a second. i did give up god for her.

and that scares me.

this blog (for now) is about finding my way back. it’s about asking myself the really difficult questions. about figuring out what i really do believe and about telling the truth for once in my life. and if i can ever muster up the courage to go treasure hunting for love again, it will be with someone who understands my faith. because i will finally know what i believe and will be honest with her about it.

this time last year, i felt happy. for the longest time after the break-up, i felt completely alone. a large part of that is because i stayed closeted through our relationship and isolated myself from my friends because it was taught to me that it was wrong. and i believed it unquestioningly.

i was wrong.

for two months after the break-up, i was completely catatonic. i called in sick to work every other day. i sobbed non-stop. i withdrew even further from my friends and family and stopped going to church. breaking up with someone you love is always heartbreaking and horrible, but there are ways to get through it. you surround yourself with friends and family. you reach out. you connect.

i did it wrong. i listened to my upbringing and my family’s religion, and i pushed myself deeper into the closet and flogged myself relentlessly for being “wrong” and “an abomination.”

i refuse to live that way any longer.

this blog is about finding my way again. i will take my inner child by the hand and i will say to her, “you are not an abomination. god made you. you deserve love and commitment. i will not beat you again. come and learn to trust?” and she will nod timidly and we will go relearn how to play together and love life once more. there is beauty in this world, and i will be the one to show it to her.

i hope that, along the way, my little thoughts might give courage and comfort to others facing coming out in closed-minded circles and tough circumstances.

finally, some things i noticed this year:

• there’s a very thin line between happiness and misery.
• i need to know more about what’s going on in our world.
  
• i have always had to have a Person in my life that i live vicariously though. until now. and now i’m not sure what i really want from life. it’s terrifying and liberating all at once.
  
• i don’t have any true beliefs. not really. everything i’ve always believed has been handed to me by the Person appointed at the time to dictate my life. i don’t have any solid beliefs of my own. not yet.
• sometimes losing absolutely everything is the best thing that can happen to you.
• i am a mess.
  
• i miss being a writer.
  

i’m hoping that this blog will aid my revolution. that it will give me a way to throw off my chains and truly embrace god.

just in time for independence day.