Two weeks ago today we came out. Even just writing that blows my mind that it happened. Our life we’ve created entwined with lies and half truths is slowly unfolding and we’re emerging new daughters and sisters and loved ones to those we hold dear.
The dust is settling more and more and we’re beginning to see through to the horizon. We are in an incredibly fragile state, My Love and I, with emotions that range and vary one day to the next. Highs and low, low lows. We’ve learned in therapy to just let those emotions ride themselves out and to tightly hold onto one another until it passes.
We’ve been living in the moment, careful to process and vent every thought and emotion experienced during this season to one another, allowing the other person to be a sounding board, a support, a comfort. To say that the last two weeks have brought My Love and I closer would be a vast understatement. Our world is crumbling down but she is my rock and I hers.
I catch myself looking at her from time to time – really looking at her, her diamond blue eyes. Her pursed lips with a coy smile. Her gentle gaze. Her confident, beautiful self. She’s becoming who I believe she’s been waiting to be and without the weights of our secrets, she’s able to be her to her fullest. She’s reading the Scriptures everyday and fills my anxious ears with all her findings and learnings when I come home for the day, her voice littered with excitement and it’s not hard to see Jesus smiling in and out of her as the Holy Spirit is leading and guiding that tender heart. She is reading other books, helpful chapters written by those pioneers that have gone before us in the journey of being a gay Christian and shares moving quotes and thoughts on what she’s learned. She is bubbling with life and a hunger for more, more, more has manifested. She’s becoming a different person – one who I vaguely recognize but can’t wait to continue to get to know.
For most of our relationship, I’ve been the spiritual “head” of the household and it’s refreshing to step back and let her willing and passionate heart take the reigns for a bit so this weary heart of mine can rest, can process, can cope.
I’m still working through things and like My Love, having good days and bad days but feel I’ve been stripped down to the core again and am able to decide what this beautiful blank canvas will hold next. God is still my Papa and has been all and more than I need Him to be in this time. A gentle voice of encouragement. A peaceful calm in my rattled spirit. A right hand, leading me and gently pushing me to what’s next even when it’s uncomfortable and out of my element. I’m learning too, about myself and from others and feel free to finally tap into resources from various sources without abandon, wanting anything that resembles a life like My Love and I’s, someone who has made it farther across the other side and who is declaring that it really does get better.
I know it does. It has to.
I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family since that sunny afternoon two weeks ago. I’m overwhelmed and the introvert in me is terrified to contact Brother who has expressed support in fear that his heart has changed. My parents still haven’t contacted their daughter. I need to tell other beloved family members but just can’t get myself to yet. I keep promising “tomorrow” but the to-do list always gets in the way, even if it doesn’t include much.
More planning, more preparing, constantly moving forward.
All in becoming new. All in stride with the One who makes all things new.
I’m confident we’re in good hands.