Posted on by palmtreemomma

Alone

For all who are weary of pretending, those scared to go home, or alone and forgotten, this story is for you…

Unseen and alone

He sits alone, anxiously rubbing his fingers over the rim of the worn cup. The diner has long emptied. Holiday shoppers with full bellies and full cars, driving off under the twinkling lights to warm houses full of warm glows.

He sits alone, swallowing the lump in his throat that grows and grows. Thoughts swirl in his head faster than snowflakes and darker than the midnight sky. It’s almost Christmas.

He sits alone, agony turning his stomach upside down while tears tumble down his cheeks. Dare he go home this year? All his life he has felt like an outsider, his body betraying him. He just wants to seen and loved for who is. Not having to hide or fake smile or keep calm when the family debates politics or drops snide remarks that cut like the knife he carries in his bag.

He sits alone, the smooth cold blade calming his heart and he wonders again why he is here. Why the heck was he birthed on this earth? If he were honest with those who even now are cooking and baking, getting the tables ready for feasting – he knows he would be more alone. Cast out. Forsaken. Hated. Scorned.

Barn full of shit

He sits alone, so tired of hiding. The diner is closing so he stumbles outdoors. Bitter air freezes his breath and pushes him forward. As he passes the nativity by the old church, he pauses, surprised to see a plastic baby shivering in a fake barn. He smells the shit that isn’t there and wonders at the wonder of a baby in a barn. Who would put a tiny perfect baby in the cow’s supper dish? Did this baby not want to belong, to be held, cuddled until the day breaks and the warmth of the sun filters through?

He steals the plastic baby and walks, no longer alone. In the safety of his apartment, he turns up the heat and wraps them both in blankets. He cuddles the cold plastic baby until the words spill out and he speaks his truth. Every last bit of secrets held tight, the years of pretending and trying to look right. He is who he is and embraces her, pronouns and tears jumbled together in a dance to remember.

Christmas morning dawns red in the sky as their heavy eyes shut. Peace and belonging wrapped tight as their blankets. No longer alone, they breath air that is clean, washed sweet with the truth. The plastic baby in the hands that rescued it from the barn full of shit.

The question of whether to go or to stay has faded away. As he sleeps, the baby whispers softly into his ear.

“Thank you. I’ve been in the cold for so many years, Your honesty and bravery have brought us both home.“

Truth about the holidays

A couple weeks ago I wrote about Austin coming out publicly. There weren’t too many surprises for him, as to who was supportive and who was not. If he spent much time around a person, it didn’t take long to get a sense of how they felt about people like him.

Which brings me to the here and now of the Holidays. We know it is a lonely time for those who have lost loved ones but we may not realize how lonely it is for LGBTQ+ folks. That niece or nephew at the big family gathering who hasn’t told anyone yet. The aunt or uncle who has decided to take their secret to the grave rather than risk being cast out. Cousin Benny who is thinking the world would be better off without him because he knows that the same family hugging him now will throw him out or proclaim that he is demon possessed if he speaks his truth. The friend we share drinks with who wants to find the words to tell us she feels like a fraud in the body she was born in and just wants to be authentic.

They are more than you think, closer than you know. Beautiful butterflies being birthed in cocoons not yet ready to open.

Our posture towards them matters. They read us like a book. It doesn’t take long for them to know if they can relax in our presence or if they must be on their guard, anxious and wary. Our gathering spaces can be barns full of shit or places of belonging.

Now, more than ever, is the time to be an ally. To show that you value authenticity more than cold plastic fakeness. You don’t have to agree to welcome, love and be a safe space.

Tips for creating safe spaces

Start with a heart that loves each person, no matter what. Decide to listen and learn when you don’t understand. Value honesty and forget about perfect public images. Be who you were born to be and accept when other do the same. Shut down conversations that are homophobic and/or transphobic. Perhaps even set ground rules that there will be no political discussions. Even if you think everyone is on the same page, don’t risk it. You may be surprised to know that the leaders you praise may not embody safety to some of your guests. There is a great article here that unpacks what LGBTQ+ people struggle with as they head to family gatherings.

If you are Queer, please know that the most important person for you to care for is yourself. It’s okay to skip family dinners that are stressful. Years of traditions and expectations are hard to break from, but you have more value than tradition. Listen to your gut. If it’s churning, turn around and go “home” to a space that is safe. Queer Theology has 8 tips here to get through the Holidays.

As always, I’m here to listen. Drop me a line if you need someone to talk to. Or if you want to be the first to know when a new post is up.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Listen to the Suffering

Because my husband chose to marry me, a woman, he can easily pass as straight. And he did, for many years. We settled into our life together, raised our kids and grew our business. Whenever I would bring up the issue of his orientation, he would sort of shrug it off. He was okay with his life. We both worked on our stuff and made great strides toward wholeness. The depression from earlier years diminished and life was almost good. As good as it can be when you are starting a business and raising 3 wild boys in a small house with very little money. But we made it though every crisis that threatened our existence and it felt as if maybe life was almost normal. Whatever that means.

Then, out of the blue, we hit a rough patch. Tired of hiding, Austin started coming out of the closet to more of his close friends. He was always very candid with me about these conversations. While I was grateful to know, I was also puzzled because I sensed depression growing in him again. Something had changed and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The Painful Truth

The more we talked, the more I began to realize that he hadn’t been as happy all these years as he had led me to believe. Though he said he was fine, things were not always fine.

Once again, I felt the rug being yanked out from beneath me. This time, though, I wasn’t just shocked and scared, I was angry. I had believed him when he said he was doing okay. I trusted and thought we were in a good place. But obviously we were not in a good place if he was feeling miserable.

While my brain knew it was not about me, it still was another blow to my self esteem. The healthy part of my self knows it’s not my job to make him happy and I can’t change his orientation. It just is. But I also feel terrible if my partner is unhappy. It’s pretty hard to be a feeling person and not take it at least a little bit personally.

I was sure this time that we were headed for a divorce. As a big-picture-carry-the-world-on-my-shoulders kind of person, I turned every scenario over in my mind. Who would raise the kids? Who would stay in the house? Would we sell the business? What would I do for a job? On and on my brain churned and my broken heart reshaped itself into tears dripping down my cheeks.

It’s pretty damn hard to see suffering in another and not be able to do a single thing to ease that suffering and bring happiness.

I was still angry too, that he let me think he was happy when he wasn’t.

It’s a weird place to be in – broken because you see the suffering of another and can do nothing but suffer with them. Yet to be so angry you kind of just want to walk out the front door and never look back.

Tired of Hiding

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering. Something began to emerge and slowly make sense as we did this.

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering.

Austin was tired of hiding who he was. He had long reached the place of no longer fighting against who he was or trying to change his orientation. He had accepted his bisexual identity but was still passing as straight. And he was not alone. 26% of bisexual adults are not out to anyone important in their lives, while 54% are out only to a few people.

It takes a heck of a lot of energy to pass as something you are not. There is a longing deep within us that wants others to see us and love us for who we really are. We all get tired of hiding and want to leave our masks and molds at the door and bring our true selves to the table. The dream of finding a place we can both be real and celebrated is in all of us.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system. One can only survive toxicity for so long before dying from the poison. Rather than die from the inside out, Austin was slowly bringing his whole self to the table.

Receiving the Gift

When someone takes off their mask and shows you their true self, they are offering you a priceless gift.

When I was a child, I loved to give gifts. There was one person I remember, that I could never seem to give a good enough gift to. No matter what I gave or how hard I tried, it was never a cherished gift. It stung my little heart but it also taught me a most valuable lesson. I learned to cherish the gifts I am given and to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift.

Are you able to cherish the gift of authenticity when it is given to you? Or does your religion cause you to argue and debate? Can you accept what you hear without trying to change the gift in some way? Are you able to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift even if it makes you uncomfortable?

I’ve kind of gotten a front row seat at seeing how people respond. Sometimes its beautiful – like the friend and mentor who got up from her seat and wrapped Austin in an embrace after hearing his story.

It can get ugly when people just want to prove how right they are or start hurtful rumors behind our backs.

Sometimes it is awkward when people don’t know what to say.

Sometime there’s a quiet “Me too” whispered back.

The gift of authenticity

So while you may wonder what happened next with us, I want you to sit here in this for a minute. I want you to think about how you receive the gift of authenticity. It’s a dying treasure, swallowed up by a toxic culture. But people around you are tired of hiding and long to be safe enough to show you who they are.

Sadly, some of you will never know the authenticity of those nearest you. There are doors that will always be closed because you have already shown that you are not a safe person.

We need to be safe receptacles for authenticity. We must create safe spaces where people no longer need to hide. If your religion has some folks preferring to hide than be real, maybe you should rethink your religion. If your God can’t love authenticity, maybe you are the one who doesn’t really know your God. When you must argue and convince the other that you are right, you show your own toxicity, along with a fear of authenticity.

It doesn’t need to be this way. There are many who are oh so tired of hiding. We can foster authenticity by living it ourselves and we can dismantle toxicity by being safe people.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.