We Must Continue On
Every comment, use of derogatory slander, homophobic picture, physically pains me. I know that may sound crazy, but each and every time I come into contact with one of those horrible things in any situation, my heart aches. Each word escapes an ignorant person’s lips and flies directly into my heart and slices it open. My blood spurts out and covers the walls around me. Each word kills me more and more each time until one day I will be totally dead inside. I will be a walking zombie.
Or will I?
Don’t I have the power to decide if words have meaning? As a writer myself, don’t I know more than anyone that words are only groups of letters until I put meaning into them? C’mob Mary, you’re smarter than that.
I don’t usually talk about my sexuality because I don’t feel like I have a right to. There are still people that I work with that have not the slightest clue that I’m a lesbian. The ironic part is that when I came out five years ago in high school, that was all I talked about. For fifteen years I had hidden myself from not only others but from myself as well. And then when I came out, it was as if I finally was free. Everything that was built up inside of me just came flooding out. Five years later… I feel like a completely different person.
When the Pulse nightclub was attacked, my heart shattered. I stopped breathing and I swear my heart stopped beating when I heard the news, if even only for a split second. All I could think was, What the hell is wrong with this world?
I used to lay on my bed in my bedroom growing up and just cry. I would curl up in fetal position as if trying to block the hatred in the world from getting a hold of my precious heart. In retrospect, I think I should have squeezed myself tighter. Tears would flood from eyes onto my pillowcase which became saturated rather quickly. I would think of how I would never be fully accepted. I would tell myself that I was disgusting and worthless. I would take that blade out and slice away. I figured not only would it get my anger out, but that blade would destroy my body the way the world wanted it to be. After all, I was considerd a “faggot”. After the blood dried, and my skin
was all sticky from a mixture of warm red liquid and tears, I would pull out my phone. Instead of writing yet another suicide note to save for later, I would watch the It Gets Better youtube channel. Each and every time, my tears subsided and my want for death faded.
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How sad is that? To want to die because of the way others perceive you, that is horrific. In my mind, I was as worthless as people treated me and told me I was. A couple months after I did come out, I was harassed by so many people that I didn’t even know on twitter when school was back in session, as I came out in the month of June. Someone had mentioned to them that they better stop before I killed myself, and to my dismay, they only said more. And they basically told the guy that no one would really care if I ended my life and it wouldn’t have been their fault. That has stuck with me all these years later.
At twenty years old, I still don’t really talk about my sexuality for fear of judgement. Religion comes into play here a lot. I used to be really religious. And then there were so many christians that told me I was a sin, and my faith diminished. Yeah… because that makes sense. Christians want everyone to believe in God and be faithful, yet can be so bigoted that they scare so many away from God. It wasn’t until recently that I found God again. And our relationship is better now than it ever was. But it took me a long time to get to a place like this.
It sucks living in a world where everyone cannot fully be themselves. I have a best friend that I would do anything in the entire world for, and yet I am not full accepted by them. My love for this person is so strong that I try to ignore this, but my heart aches each and every time I need them for advice and am reminded by myself to not talk to them about the current situation because despite their immense love for me it makes them uncomfortable to hear about my same-sex love life. Fuck. I don’t even have words for how hard that is for me. I have to remind myself that I must respect their beliefs. My love for this person is so strong that I have to focus on that. Yet again, a piece of my heart shatters.
What I have learned is we have to keep on keeping on! We have to continue on. One day this world will accept all people in the LGBT community, but unfortunately today is not that day. What I can say is that in five years, things have gotten much better for me. Each day I become less and less ashamed of who I am. I am in a much better, healthier place and mindset and I thank God for that each and everyday. My struggles from times prior to now have shaped me into the young lady I am today.
I know this is a long post and is not full of my usual language, but I felt it to be better to type so others can feel not so alone, than it would be to engage in destructive habits.
I will embed in this post a song by Todrick Hall. It helps me to hear it, so I hope my sharing it will help others as well.
Be kind,
XoXo
