I'm just not feeling it today. It meaning "well" I suppose. I don't understand what the problem is, at least - not well enough to do anything about it... and I hate that. I think I might hate not knowing what to do even more than I hate feeling less than good. I can't stand not knowing what's wrong or what action to take. So, yes, I don't know what to do and that sucks. Officially.
Some transitional information to help anyone attempting to follow my life through this journal: the doctor received an emergency page Friday, causing him to miss the appointment we'd rather been leaning on, considering the can of worms we opened Monday, the wedding Saturday, and the fact that my mom was gone from Friday evening through Sunday noon. I had an insanely bad weekend, at least, up until Sunday afternoon/ evening. I didn't go out at all, didn't go to the wedding, didn't go anywhere that wasn't the wedding, did not have an enjoyable time, in general. I tried to suck less at juggling (still no) and I finally saw Casablanca. other than that? less than productive. then yesterday, I had my only appointment this week (damn holiday) ... which just ... hurt. I don't even want to talk about it. I mean, I want to talk about it, but I don't want to actually go through doing so. I don't want to be going through this. This for the moment being the gay-thing. I am so pissed and so scared and sad, and it's making me nuts. In a week, I'm going to be in NY, supposedly telling my siblings about this. And it's not like... it's not like I'm not ready for them to know... I mean, shit, I'm so tired of almost letting it slip, just as part of a passing comment; I would really like to stop talking so carefully. And it's not like I think they'll respond poorly. I just... hate this. I really, really hate this. The term "coming out" makes me sick. That is not something that's supposed to be part of my life. And just, the personal, non-labeled, letting my particular family know about this particular aspect of my particular self... I hate that, too. I'm scared of that, too. And I'm angry because I feel like I'm giving in. (That's going to sound like the most stupid thing I've said in a long time.) I feel like, once I tell them, it's done. Once I tell them, those opportunities that I've been waiting on and begging for, the opportunity to just cut this part out of me and keep living... those opportunities will disappear. It's not that I've seen any evidence they exist. But now they never will. Telling people feels like really accepting it, and I don't want to accept it. I just want a be a little kid. I don't want to do this. Have this. Be this.
And I'll just state for the millionth time - because I know it's confusing - I want to get rid of my sexuality. Not somehow shift to hetero, ("straight" sexuality being the only thing that scares me more than homosexuality), that's not my problem. Yes, it would be really nice if I were not in a minority here, if the world did not assume everyone was straight by default, if this were not a topic I even had to bother covering with people. But it's not the specifics that get to me. I *like* girls; I don't have a problem with that. I just don't want anything to do with this in general.
And the doctor's so patient and so sincere, and he keeps telling me how it's not a disease even though it's hard to know that when I'm talking about it in the same place where I've talked so much about illness, how it's not fear-based (I don't like girls because boys are so fucking scary), how it's just one facet of me and once it's integrated it's going to be something good, really, how just like every other part of my life/ self - I'm eventually going to say that - despite pain, breakups, relational difficulties, confusion, etc - I wouldn't give it up if I could. Instead of "please please please please please let me give this away." Instead of "it isn't fair. if I don't want this to be a part of who I am, it shouldn't be." But it is. It is and there's not one damn thing I can do about it, and that pisses me off. That scares me a lot.
He reminded me that, impossible as it seems, painful as it was, I actually do not wish I'd never gotten sick (most days) because I've gained so much in getting better. He said, if an illness can end up with that kind of worth, imagine how valuable something healthy could be, ultimately. And he makes sense, and I believe him, and it doesn't matter. It still hurts. All of these years listening to gay musicians and having gay friends, and I feel like I'm on the outside of my own life now. No one I know is doing this. No one I know feels this way. I didn't sign up for this, damnit. I'm supposed to have some power, remember? If I can't have control? Goddamnit, I want some control right now. It's my life. It's my...
It should be my choice.
I'm sorry. To everyone. To myself and everyone else. I suck at this.
~me