What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
All in all, I should count my blessings. I am a spiritual person, I meditate often, I’m pretty healthy, I am mostly in love with my body, I guess I could floss more, but it could definitely be worse. I’m not seventeen anymore. I don’t live with my parents anymore. I’m not homeless and I’m not hungry or looking for food and shelter. I’m not even living paycheck to paycheck. When I look at so many stories of others who are coming out, or thinking about coming out, they have so many things to worry about. I even live in New York. In a city like this, it’s almost par for the course to think twice about your sexuality and gain an open mind while doing it. Almost. I really shouldn’t complain. I don’t have any of those hardships, and I don’t have to be a pioneer. All I have is a husband…and a child. But somehow, I can’t stop the fact that it’s all sending me for a loop.
I’ve known the truth about my sexualtiy in the back of my mind for years, but was always too afraid to explore my sexuality in my parent’s house. Now, I’m living in another house, as a mom, as a wife, as a friend, as a life long partner, but I don’t feel completely myself. Not yet. I’m not exactly sure who said “honesty is the best policy” first, but I’d like to pull up a chair, sit beside them and describe this one. There have been countless nights that I’ve laid awake frustrated with my own life because of the simple fact that I can’t express all of who I am.
Reading dozens of self help books, I’ve been angry enough to throw them across the room when they’ve recommended that I “live my truth” and all that. But what happens to that truth when so many others are dependent on it? At least I feel that they are. And then, I look at my little girl. I look at what I would like her to know. I look at what I would like to teach her. The first thing I would love for her to know is that everyone deserves love. True love. And it’s out there. Despite my desire to become more cynical in order to protect my heart, I remain a hopeless romantic. I believe in soul mates and love and all that mushy stuff. I’ve seen it exist too many times to completely denounce it, but the bigger question is whether or not I have the courage to follow it? I have often done what I was supposed to do. I have done what would make my family proud. I have done what is right. How do I suddenly deal when it feels as though it’s been ingrained in me that everything I would now like to do is wrong?
Attraction isn’t a choice, I know because I would never choose to be as hung up as I am now on any given issue. I feel as though I have way too much to do with writing, and cooking and cleaning, and raising to spend time pontificating on this one issue. But it is the biggest issue of my life. Outside, my life is perfect. I have an amazing husband, who is still amazing despite whatever it is that I’m feeling. I have a wonderful child who, although two now, has not seemed to fully realize that she should be throwing tantrums and has kept her cool. I have a large family of which I am the baby. Think: siblings who are more like parents. It’s a blessing…and a curse. Where do I fit into all of this? Where do my desires and my wishes go? Am I Mom, Sister, Wife, Daughter? Or am I more than the sum of all my titles? Do I dare to be more?