Adjusting Focus

For a long time, I believed my religion was enough; it was all I needed in life. If all else failed, I had God. I had this organization I so devoutly believed in and followed. What I didn't realize was that the day would come I would feel this wasn't enough for me, that I was feeling isolated, resentful, and overall unhappy with where I was, and religion played a rather large part in that. And though I am much happier with where I am now, happy to be leading my life as an openly bisexual woman, leaving wasn't necessarily an easy choice. My therapist pointed out that I spent my entire life within this organization, and have only spent less than a year out of it. That meant my thinking wouldn't change over night, and it would take time. I expressed to her the guilt I often felt when I did the things I was always taught not to do-date women, for one, get tattoos, pierce my ears more than once, drink coffee, and a lot of other things, a lot of which are relatively small in ...

I planned to upload a very different blog post today, but at the last minute, decided I had to write about the recent events on police brutality. As one of my goals for this blog is to create a supportive, welcoming community for all, I want to express to you the heaviness many of you are feeling- but from my perspective as a person of color*. My news feed has been filled with white people posting about police brutality and being "white allies," and while I appreciate the support, I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few months ago on the frustration I often carry in situations like this. i don't need a white person trying to fight for me i don't need your white savior complex to rescue me or your guilt from the way you've treated my people to finally move you to take action   where were you when i sat on the bus and a girl told her friends to not sit next to me because i am brown? where were you when i was followed in a store because a worker thought i looked suspi...

I believed I was a good person. At the same time, I felt dirty. Disgusting. Unworthy. Ashamed. Guilty. My sexuality was devilish. Carnal- something that would never allow me to be with God. But when I wrote my poems, it was freeing. Beautiful and who God made me to be. It was nothing to hide. It was as real a love as anyone else's. Wasn't that how it should always be? Coming out honestly seemed like a lot of effort when fundamentally, I stay the same. I love that scene in " Love, Simon " where people have to come out as straight , because that's a little bit how this feels. At the same time, it also seems right that I do it. My blog is so much about letting others know they aren't alone and there is always good to come. Suffering doesn't last a lifetime. My goal here is to create a community; a welcoming environment where people feel they don't have to hide. That's why I decided to write this post. I've denied my sexuality off and on for...