11 Months and 2 Weeks
It's hard to believe that in 2 weeks we'll have been together for a year. The time feels as if it flew by miraculously. We just watched Life in a Day, the 2011 movie and though it's neither of our top 10 movies ever, it was moving and fitting as we continue this adventure together.
More than, "I love you," he said something at breakfast--"this is your life, this is who you're with." And that struck me--it has his trademark suredness about things, but it also had an incredibly tender underbelly--he'd decided that I was someone he could spend his life with.
Of course I asked myself the question. And if anyone knows me, they get that I'm immediately inclined to say the opposite thing--often in a good sense of making sure we've thought about all possibilities, but probably from some ego position of wanting to be right with a different thought.
Jim says I just do it to be contentious, but I think on some other level I've grown distrustful of popular opinion and yearn to strike out on my own course, which on some level I swear is "better." Learning to sort through thinking of others and myself and to be open to landing with actions that line up with what's best, rather than falling in with my pride about going in my own direction, comes hard to me. I'm learning so much through this year with Jim, that my pride and ego get in the way of a useful and harmonious life. For that, I'm incredibly grateful. What's also being betrayed is my belief that I have to forge a life alone--Jim was able to send my life-saving medicine while I was on a business trip to Atlanta. He was the only one who had access--not my parents, not my other family, not my co-workers, only he did. And for that practical and psychological safety net, incredibly grateful. Thank you.
So yes, I do owe my parents more, and I am grateful for them, even if our relationships are distant now. That might be because I'm gay, but I think it's more that we have less in common that we'd hoped. Yes, we have an over 40 year history, yes, they've saved me from scrapes through infancy through my teens, 20's, 30's and even 40's. But we must admit that when someone loves all of you, and never says "except this part" -- especially, never says this part: your sexuality, it trumps that history. My parents, and I love them and they love me and we've both forgiven each other for hurts over the years, do not love the fact that I'm gay. And they probably never will. And I forgive them that. And they accept about me, that I'm me today. And I love my parents, even though a part of who I am is unloveable by them.
And Jim, he loves all the fundamental pieces of me. He dislikes the fact that I have a hard time giving myself as much love as I give others, but his love for me inspires me to grow in that way. I'm learning to love myself more fully for who I am, not what I do, accomplish. He's teaching me to stand up for me: in my own authentic way. And that's awesome.
More than, "I love you," he said something at breakfast--"this is your life, this is who you're with." And that struck me--it has his trademark suredness about things, but it also had an incredibly tender underbelly--he'd decided that I was someone he could spend his life with.
Of course I asked myself the question. And if anyone knows me, they get that I'm immediately inclined to say the opposite thing--often in a good sense of making sure we've thought about all possibilities, but probably from some ego position of wanting to be right with a different thought.
Jim says I just do it to be contentious, but I think on some other level I've grown distrustful of popular opinion and yearn to strike out on my own course, which on some level I swear is "better." Learning to sort through thinking of others and myself and to be open to landing with actions that line up with what's best, rather than falling in with my pride about going in my own direction, comes hard to me. I'm learning so much through this year with Jim, that my pride and ego get in the way of a useful and harmonious life. For that, I'm incredibly grateful. What's also being betrayed is my belief that I have to forge a life alone--Jim was able to send my life-saving medicine while I was on a business trip to Atlanta. He was the only one who had access--not my parents, not my other family, not my co-workers, only he did. And for that practical and psychological safety net, incredibly grateful. Thank you.
So yes, I do owe my parents more, and I am grateful for them, even if our relationships are distant now. That might be because I'm gay, but I think it's more that we have less in common that we'd hoped. Yes, we have an over 40 year history, yes, they've saved me from scrapes through infancy through my teens, 20's, 30's and even 40's. But we must admit that when someone loves all of you, and never says "except this part" -- especially, never says this part: your sexuality, it trumps that history. My parents, and I love them and they love me and we've both forgiven each other for hurts over the years, do not love the fact that I'm gay. And they probably never will. And I forgive them that. And they accept about me, that I'm me today. And I love my parents, even though a part of who I am is unloveable by them.
And Jim, he loves all the fundamental pieces of me. He dislikes the fact that I have a hard time giving myself as much love as I give others, but his love for me inspires me to grow in that way. I'm learning to love myself more fully for who I am, not what I do, accomplish. He's teaching me to stand up for me: in my own authentic way. And that's awesome.
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