In the past month, I have abandoned at least a half dozen mostly-finished posts now relegated to draft status in perpetuity. The problem is that I keep having these significant mental/emotional revelations, but by the time I start to process one, another comes rolling along. So I’ve opted to condense all of my shit into one untidy post. This is mostly for my own sanity, so I’m not apologizing if the following is a steaming hot mess.
Shit I’ve Figured Out…
- I am complacent. Despite being smart and talented and engaging and having great ideas, I don’t really see myself as a go-getter or someone who capitalizes on her great ideas by turning them into a reality. And maybe that’s not so much because I’m not that person but because I haven’t ever chosen to be her. This pattern has been evident in my life for as long as I can remember. But where does my lack of ambition come from? And can I fix it? I feel the weight of figuring this out because my complacency is inherently linked to my finances, my health, and my limited sense of possibility. The problem is that focusing on dreams can be tricky — the woman who’s struggling to keep her head above water isn’t exerting energy towards plotting out a five year plan. I am that woman. I don’t want to be that woman.
- I am impulsive. Which is totally cute and whimsical. Until it isn’t anymore, and I believe I’ve reached that point. I have hurt enough feelings and lived with my foot stuck squarely in my mouth long enough to know that this quirk of mine isn’t working for me anymore and perhaps never was. But how do I change a lifelong thought-behavior pattern? It’s not so simple as “think before you speak.” I’ve groomed my “process” to run at breakneck speed, but by not allowing time for the consideration of consequences, I’ve merely developed a worthless (and at times harmful) process. Addressing this particular issue feels both critically important and hopelessly difficult.
- I am bisexual. From the time I was in early elementary school, I remember being fascinated by breasts (my mother likes to tell the story of attending my first grade open house only to discover on the bulletin board a picture I drew of my parents doing various [shirtless] household activities). At seven years old, I took every opportunity to browse my neighbor’s garage, the walls of which were plastered with voluptuous bikini models draped over sports cars. Adult-me recognizes the obvious physical and mental arousal that these images produced, and to this day, physical images of men rarely evoke the same response as those of women. The first time I felt sexually attracted to a girl was right around the start of puberty. In college, I had a Barbie-esque roommate whom I could barely make eye contact with. I’d rather watch lesbian porn than straight porn. When I met The Couple last year, I was exponentially more excited to be with The Girl than The Guy.
All. Of. This.
Yet I am just now figuring this shit out. Strangely, I had always thought my feelings and thoughts were normal, which I suppose is a blessing compared to how many non-heteronormative people feel.
Soooo…. That’s why you haven’t heard from me. I’m trying to learn and understand and fix and grow and break and undo and build. And also breathe and exercise and keep my damn calendar straight. Meal planning, cleaning, pouring time and energy into my relationship with The Match.
All of it is worthwhile. But it’s definitely not all easy.