I’m compelled to stand outside and tell the whole universe: I’m not giving up.
What? It’s hard to explain.
I am not giving up on the idea that this country can, at least at some level, agree that human rights cannot be nitpicked on the grounds of lifestyle choices, dietary trends, intensely personal religious beliefs, or handed-ness. This whole gay marriage thing should never have been as big a deal as it is, but here we are. Two men want to pledge to spend the rest of their lives together? Great! Two women want to do the same? Fine with me! What’s the big deal. If you think their bedroom choices are aberrant, then don’t watch them have sex. If you’re right, and they’re sinners, then it’s between them and god. What ever happened to "judge not", you know? They’ll have to explain themselves, and you’re not responsible for them. They’re not having sex with you, after all.
If you’re wrong, and god doesn’t give a shit how people go about experiencing their private little orgasms, then you’re going to have to explain to god why you thought it was righteous to deny another human the right to a hate-free life. What will you tell Jesus, who ate lunch with the diseased, the leprous? Jesus, who embraced prostitutes and reached out to the least of the population around him? What will you tell Jesus when he sits next to you and asks you to share a meal with him at the same table as the people on whom you spend so much vitriol and poisonous anger?
I’m not giving up.
Do you ever just wake up some days just itching for battle and confrontation? Ahh, the pendulum swings. One day I’m driving to work almost sobbing because the music is too powerful and I have to spend an extra ten minutes in the parking garage before the tide of sadness passes. Next day (okay, weeks later) I wake up and the skies are red and my head is fogged with anger and I find myself hoping the knife-wielding crazy person bursts into the office today so that I can just absolutely beat the tar out of a complete stranger. I wouldn’t, of course, but my inner warrior totally has her war face on today, and she likes to fantasize about that sort of thing. My outer admin just has her sleepy 8am face on.
Some day, maybe I’ll find a way off this roller coaster. Maybe I’ll find a way to still hold on tight to the highest highs that I feel, the almost manic periods of impossible ups and laughter and hilarity… and in that same solution find a way to be wholly rid of the crushing deep blues, the lonliness, the feeling of weakness, the sensation of stupidity, the hungry self-loathe. I’m not giving up.
I’m going to find my thumb drives. I’m going to keep looking for them. I’m going to stand up to my terrified, quivering inner 9 year old, and force her to be helpful and social and have fun this weekend. I’m going to end up not having to force anything because it’s going to be awesome. I’m going to trust that things are going well in the other areas of my world right now too, that my family will stay strong and healthy and that all future medical tests will continue to reveal big-fat-nothing-in-particular. I’m going to trust that in this universe, we’re on a path of healing and hopefulness. I’m not giving up.
I’m going to continue to eat better than I want to. I want to eat cheese, and burgers, and giant fried doughballs all hours of the day, oozing with sugar and chocolate. I’m going to continue to eat whole grains and vegetables. I'm going to eat lean meats and low sodium soups. I can be the size I want to be. I’m just lazy. I’m not giving up.
Someday, I will finally feel like I belong. I will finally shed this feeling of angst over when the day will come that I’m discovered for the fraud that I am. I will finally be rid of the impossible guilt over issues long dead. Long. Dead. Someday, I will fit in, and it will be more than just great pretending. It will be meaningful and lasting.
I’m not giving up.
Don’t give up.