You may want to read part 1 first.
That specific Saturday, I had to work. My friend didn't, but we had still planned for her to come with me, just for the fun of it. We were supposed to meet in a neighbouring city in the morning. We hadn't been able to meet up much for a few days so I had really looked forward to it. And I mean really.looked.forward.to.it. Thinking about it now, I'm completely amazed I still hadn't understood.
It wasn't until she called me that morning, to say that the 50+ lover and she had had a bit too much to drink the night before, and that it had gotten a bit too late, and that they had engaged a bit too much in other activities besides sleep that past night for her to be able to meet up with me. Only then did the realization hit me.
I was in a vast empty parking lot, in a small town that was still asleep early that Saturday morning. It was very windy, and cold - late autumn, almost winter. It suited my mood perfectly, as I stood there, the icey wind in my eyes, the dry dead leaves blowing around my feet, tears streaming down my face. Crying out of jealousy, out of a broken heart, out of shock, from realizing that I loved her, and from realizing that she loved me, and that she had desperately tried everything to make me realize it, even going so far as to use her lover to provoke me. And above it all was the big scary word, so easy to accept about others, but so unthinkable for me to use as a label for myself: LESBIAN. (I don't even think I knew there was such a thing as bisexuality. God, I knew so little.)
I've never been a conservative person, and still can't understand why it was so difficult for me to accept. Little things, like "how do I tell my parents", became insurmountable problems. I thought about how much hardship I would face if I was open about what I had found out about myself, and I thought about the hardhips i would face if I hid it.
Obviously, millions before me have done it, quite successfully, including her. Did that inspire me? Did I decide that she was worth it?
No. For some reason I thought that I, contrary to those other millions, wouldn't be able to handle it. Instead I made a very deliberate decision not to acknowledge it.
Never has anyone showed love for me so openly, and never have I been so slow to understand. Never have I turned it down so forcefully, and never have I hurt anyone so terribly. I moved away from her city, and country, shortly thereafter.
About a year later, I told an acquaintance at a party about my experience. She was gay and I thought she'd understand, but she didn't. This was around 20 years ago, and I never told anyone else after that, not even my husband, whom I met a couple of years later, after finally mending my severed heart.
Not until I told S last year, that is.
That specific Saturday, I had to work. My friend didn't, but we had still planned for her to come with me, just for the fun of it. We were supposed to meet in a neighbouring city in the morning. We hadn't been able to meet up much for a few days so I had really looked forward to it. And I mean really.looked.forward.to.it. Thinking about it now, I'm completely amazed I still hadn't understood.
It wasn't until she called me that morning, to say that the 50+ lover and she had had a bit too much to drink the night before, and that it had gotten a bit too late, and that they had engaged a bit too much in other activities besides sleep that past night for her to be able to meet up with me. Only then did the realization hit me.
I was in a vast empty parking lot, in a small town that was still asleep early that Saturday morning. It was very windy, and cold - late autumn, almost winter. It suited my mood perfectly, as I stood there, the icey wind in my eyes, the dry dead leaves blowing around my feet, tears streaming down my face. Crying out of jealousy, out of a broken heart, out of shock, from realizing that I loved her, and from realizing that she loved me, and that she had desperately tried everything to make me realize it, even going so far as to use her lover to provoke me. And above it all was the big scary word, so easy to accept about others, but so unthinkable for me to use as a label for myself: LESBIAN. (I don't even think I knew there was such a thing as bisexuality. God, I knew so little.)
I've never been a conservative person, and still can't understand why it was so difficult for me to accept. Little things, like "how do I tell my parents", became insurmountable problems. I thought about how much hardship I would face if I was open about what I had found out about myself, and I thought about the hardhips i would face if I hid it.
Obviously, millions before me have done it, quite successfully, including her. Did that inspire me? Did I decide that she was worth it?
No. For some reason I thought that I, contrary to those other millions, wouldn't be able to handle it. Instead I made a very deliberate decision not to acknowledge it.
Never has anyone showed love for me so openly, and never have I been so slow to understand. Never have I turned it down so forcefully, and never have I hurt anyone so terribly. I moved away from her city, and country, shortly thereafter.
About a year later, I told an acquaintance at a party about my experience. She was gay and I thought she'd understand, but she didn't. This was around 20 years ago, and I never told anyone else after that, not even my husband, whom I met a couple of years later, after finally mending my severed heart.
Not until I told S last year, that is.
Johanna...as has become the case, your honesty here...in the blog that is...it's so clear how your writing is opening you up in ways that you probably had not anticipated. I definitely sense that you are embracing it despite how it may point out the dissonance in your current situation. It is an awakening and I am struck by how you seem to move so gracefully in its unfolding. This doesn't imply that there is discomfort...my most profound periods of growth and self-awareness have all been marked by that. I have come to tie my "creativity" with it...and think of it as becoming comfortable with discomfort. Does this make even a bit of sense?
ReplyDeleteCameron - yes, I am opening up. And I like "comfortable with discomfort", it's close to what I'm feeling... I've learned that thoughts and fantasies and dreams exist, whether I want them to or not, and I welcome the opportunity to bring them out into the open and explore them. I've finally learned how to do it, I've been shown the right tools. The process may bring on changes in my life, which scares me, but I also know it will never be as bad as keeping things bottled up. At least that's how I feel on a good day ;-)
ReplyDelete(What really scares me is the possibility that I'll lose the ability to dig deep inside me and bring these things to the surface... a lot of times I feel that's what would happen if I didn't have S for a sounding board, a listener, a confidant... which is probably partly why I'm so very scared of losing him.)