The call

So "she" called to tell me she loves me.

She did not call to tell me she is sorry for not being a part of our household.

She did not call to tell me she is sorry for not showing any sexual interest in me while we were together.

She did not call to tell me she is sorry for expecting all and giving nothing in return.

She did not call to admit that she used me.

She called to tell me she loves me, because saying you love someone is apparently good enough.

The call did not go well.

One very lesbian year later (BEDA 21)

Today marks my girlfriend and I’s one year anniversary. It marks me being “out” as bisexual to friends and family. It also marks one year that some of my family has been in denial.

It’s still a phase depending on who you talk to. 


My mom (step mom technically, if my mom were alive she would have met my girlfriend already) still considers me an “eligible bachelorette”. As far as she is concerned, I just need to meet the right guy.  No, really. She does everything in her power to maintain the illusion that I am still straight. Example? Thanksgiving. I was telling her about Crys making me watch a scary movie that messed me up. Her response “who is Crys, your roommate?” My face: 

Mind you, this was not my first time mentioning her and yet…
Needless to say, the denial rubs me the wrong way. It has made me unintentionally distant. The denial of my sexuality feels like a denial of an important part of me. My dad seems to be sort of nonchalant about it. He doesn’t talk about it, but doesn’t deny it if I talk about it. 

I get it. I went through a bad break up with a guy and started dating a girl a few months afterward. I can see why people thought it was a phase at that time. As time progressed I thought people would see how serious we are about each other. It’s not like I just picked some random woman and decided to try her out. I had known my girlfriend for eight years prior to she and I getting into a relationship. We were friends. I simply decided to finally give her a chance after her eight years of persistence. 

Good decision on my part.

She drives me nuts sometimes. We argue something terrible but we also love something wonderful. She doesn’t call me “pretty”, she calls me “beautiful” all the time. Prior to her, it was a word I rarely heard from my partner. Oh, I was “pretty”, I was “cute”, I was even “sexy”, but rarely did they ever call me beautiful. She has forced me to learn how to communicate (still a work in progress because I’m an ass sometimes). She knows how to make me smile, one of these days I’m going to catch her random songs and dances on camera. She makes me happy. That’s good enough for me. 

So, one very lesbian year later, I am still adjusting to life and love. I’m still learning and growing on my own and with her. I’m still happy. 

I’m cool with that.

After the argument (BEDA 19)

What comes after the argument? What comes after the yelling, the tears, the words you can’t take back? 

Do you employ the silent treatment? Do you sit in awkward silence? Do you wait for the other person to apologize? Do you go on a Facebook rant about that person. Do you post subliminal memes on instagram? Do you only retweet tweets that apply to your situation right now, hoping they’ll see them? Do you hold a grudge? Do you go to bed upset? 


Do you decide to embrace maturity? Do you decide to agree to disagree? Do you decide to apologize? Do you keep your problems off of the internet? Do you decide to send them funny memes anyway because you know it’ll make them laugh? Do you decide to let it go and move on? Do you still say “I love you” before going to bed? 

Do you realize that whatever you’re arguing about probably isn’t worth losing this person?

I used to be the first type of person. I’m learning to be the second type of person, it feels better.

For you or for me?

Have you ever reached a point in life where you realize you are living for other people and not yourself? I think that is where I am right now. I haven’t been living for me because I have been so afraid of being judged. I am the good daughter. The respectful daughter. The professional daughter. I am supposed to get married to a good Christian man, have 2.5 children, buy a house, put up my white picket fence, get a dog, and live the “good” life. And that’s what I have been trying to do, strive for the life I am *supposed* to have. What if the life I am supposed to have isn’t the life I want? I mean, I do want to get married. I want the house. I thought I wanted children but the more I think about it, the more it scares me. But what I wonder most is this; do I continue to “love” who they want me to love or who I want to love?


So after dedicating two and a half years to a relationship I am back to being single. It’s not the worst thing that can happen in life but now I am sort of floating in that awkward space. I have been out of the dating game for so long that it confuses me now. I don’t really even know when I am supposed to “jump” back into the dating scene honestly. I mean, he and I haven’t really been together since October. We lived together, we shared a bed, but we weren’t really together. We emotionally separated before we physically separated. I have dealt with it, blah blah blah. Now I am trying to figure out, what’s next? When do I decide it’s time for me to get back out there? Will I feel it? Hopefully my heart will tell me what to do…


Sometimes I glance in the mirror and instead of seeing myself, I see my mothers’ reflection. It is at these times I feel most beautiful. It is then that I KNOW my mother lives in me. Her bones may reside in that box underneath the headstone but her soul lives on in me. Her eyes shine brightly in mine. Her smile rests upon my face. It is her strength that makes me strong. Her passion entwines with mine to push me onward. I am my mother, her newest incarnation. I am her way of showing the world what she had to offer. I am my mother’s face for the world to see. I am my mothers gift to the world. It is time I start acting like it…

Running away

I am notorious for running away. As soon as feel myself falling, as soon as I feel anything for someone, I run. I have been used. I have been cheated on. I have been lied to. I have been hurt so badly, so many times that I fear feelings. I don’t want to deal with the pain, the rejection. So I run. I run as fast as I can and end up alone again. Then I hate myself for being alone. It’s a continuous cycle. I’m like a hamster on a wheel, running and running and getting nowhere. The wheel stops now. I’m stepping off. I’m walking away from the cycle of fear and self loathing I have wallowed in. Someone is trying to make their way into my heart. I am already looking for a reason to push him away. He’s done nothing wrong. I am blaming him for the hurt my heart holds. No more. The douchebagery is not his fault nor is it mine. The blame lies with those who treat people so badly. Time to let myself heal.