I really don't know that I want to start this - writing this. I feel like I began physically crashing on the flight back, and that an emotional crash has been just behind that the entire time. Somehow, I've delayed it; I guess to some extent I've been so tired, and to another I've been keeping myself distracted. Talking to the doctor Monday, I was pretty much a court reporter reading back the record. I could run down all of what happened in New York, but I didn't - and don't - feel like it had sunk in, entirely, and I think part of the fear around that is the idea that it involves "sinking"... I feel like I'm in a Looney Tunes cartoon, watching the anvil hang in the air for that moment just before it falls on my head. I just feel so unsafe and so raw, so vulnerable to any little thing. I have a phone message that I know about but haven't listened to, that has to be the most gorgeous thing to happen to me in awhile, but I'm terrified to pick up the phone. I don't know what will happen if I do. I don't know what will happen if I take this moment in which I already feel so scared, so exposed, and so needy - and add to that a wonderful person who's choosing to be in my life in a way I never would have expected (but definitely would have hoped for) ... only to realize that person isn't here-here. And neither is my family. And neither are my friends. Etc. I guess it's possible that part of what's making this difficult is how well most of the trip went. When's the last time that I slept in a room with all of my siblings? When's the last time we were piled on top of each other like that, spending that much time together? To have that, and to have it actually working (with a few exceptions)... felt really good. Even if I did wish for my friends, for someone to stay close to me, for the pace and habits of my own life. One of the reasons I don't like to leave is because I finally feel like I'm building a life here, but it's something of a let-down to come back here all the same. What I want to have will not feel lacking, and I know that. But I don't have it yet. I still don't have that space, those friends, that learning, that work, and so forth. At a time like this, it's so easy to feel desperate and starving and run to someone and beg them to love me until I stop feeling hollow (which won't ever happen.) It's so difficult to feel desperate and hollow and starving and not run to someone, not beg for that. I know I can go to my friends; I'm just talking about asking someone to restore my soul, my peace, my value ... I'm asking for some ever-so-extreme dependence.
(To my credit, it's only a metaphorical starvation - an emotional, not physical, reality that I'm working to change. Food in New York was basically a non-issue, other than how much I will miss food-in-new-york. Being vegetarian is a very, very different experience on the east coast. Also, Sarah's new apartment - which rocks my entire collection of kneesocks - has many a mirror, and I made a point to look at myself more often... because I'm pretty certain if I could get a more accurate mental picture of how I look, I wouldn't feel so awful when I happen to see myself. I think the discrepancy between what I expect and how I actually look makes it harder. And that discrepancy only exists because I don't look the way I did a year ago, or five years ago - the way that I looked throughout adolescence, I guess. Anyway, the body image shit that came up when I went shopping a week or so ago - which was also the money shit; it's all the same shit, really - is getting better. I just keep talking to myself, drowning out the voices that still break into my head at times.)
Ok, so - that's already more than I knew when I started writing this. I thought how I was feeling was a result of the New York trip - as in, a reaction to what happened there. The idea that it might also be about the difference between New York and this supposed city, between having my family (minus my dad) all around me and having them all around the nation. I didn't have any real alone time in New York, and the really strange this is - I didn't particularly miss it. I'm sure I eventually would have, but the way things worked out, I really didn't feel a need to go somewhere by myself and do my own thing for awhile. And now I'm here again, with nothing but alone time. And yes, it's December and there's all kinds of schtuff to do, all sorts of things going on, and many a gathering to attend if I so choose. Plus, I'm using the time I have right now in an attempt to secure a non-alone option for the relatively-near-future. I just, obviously, for the millionth time, need people now. Not three months from now. Now.
And when you add that New York, with my siblings and my mom, was the first time I sat in a room, or walked down a street, or ate in a restuarant, with people who knew The Whole Truth (so far as I do) about who I am... Well, damnit that felt good. Which I guess leads me to say that, yes, I did tell them. The doctor is a total genius. Suggesting I go to New York just to have fun, just to be who I am, and not have this agenda was complete brilliance. I felt so comfortable and ended up 'telling' Sarah. I'm not sure I can really say I told her because the entire conversation consisted of about five words. Seriously. It was funny. We'd gone to a street fair earlier in the day, and my mom found juggling balls and told me to pick out three. (Yeay! No more practicing with socks!) That evening, we were back at the apartment, and I took out the balls, threw one to my mom, one to my sister, and kept one for myself. Sarah held onto hers for awhile; they're kind of addictive. I realized that the one she had was rainbow, and since I'd been wanting to tell her (I almost did it earlier, when I had a technical opportunity, but the timing felt really wrong), I grabbed the stool next to her and said, "Hey, Sarah. ...You know that... ball you have? It's a - symbol." She said, "What?" and I said, "It's a symbol" again. And then she said, my crazy how-in-the-world-will-she-respond wild-card-sister said, "Oh. Yeah, I know."
I looked at her like, "I seriously don't have to say anything beyond that? You already have it?" and she said something about knowing that's why I got it. Which annoyed me ever so slightly because, actually, I bought it because it was colorful... I even reconsidered it because the rainbow-symbol-aspect seemed so cheesy, and obviously, I'm just against assumptions. But honestly, Sarah's response went over extremely well with me, despite how close to "I knew it" it might seem. "Oh, I know," was actually very different from "I knew it!" ...I just sort of looked at her and she said, "I'm a perceptive girl." Then she sort of shrugged and said something similar to "I think you're a cool chica." I was like, That's it? Seriously? You thought so, and now I've told you, now you know-know... and... we're good? I was so giddy with relief. I hugged her.
Later, she told me that she'd been talking with one of her friends from work about it (which freaked me out just a little... it just seems strange to think that she would have brought it up with someone) - and she was so all-but-sure about it that her friend finally said to her, "Sarah, you need to understand that your sister might be straight. No, really. She might be straight, and even if that's the case, she's still your sister. You need to love her regardless" which cracked me up because it's so in keeping with what I've thought and said and had said to me up to this point. I still wonder if there's anyone else who begged the universe to let them be gay, if they had to have a sexuality...
So, things - in that department - started really well. I was all happy about it. I still didn't know for sure if I'd be telling everyone, but I kind of figured I would. The way the trip worked out, we sort of ended up arriving in shifts. My mom and I came, the next day Dale came, two days after that Joe came, and John came in that night. So, I had awhile with just Dale. Again, there was a time when I had an opportunity, but it didn't really feel right. It would have been really forced, and it probably wouldn't have gone well. Dale was seriously tense about work; he's started a new company with a friend, and going out of town while you're building a company is no small thing. It was somewhat good for me to realize that what I so very much personalize, the pissiness that I assume is some sort of judgment on me, is actually just Dale being anxious. If I can keep that in mind, maybe I won't try so hard to get him to crack a smile or rejoin the fun - and won't fail at trying or piss him off further. I don't know; it's good information to have. We're trying, Dale and I. And honestly, that's pretty much the story of what happened when I did tell him. What happened wasn't what either of us intended, and the good news is that my end goal with Dale isn't to tell him I like girls; it's to have an actual relationship with him. If my final goal had been to tell him, how things went would really have sucked. With my goals as they are, this was mostly another experience we had of each other, where we got it more-right than we have in the past, but still nowhere near functional. Hopefully, we'll keep putting in the effort and eventually, we'll be better at understanding what works. Because we do kind of suck right now, for all our good intentions.
Here's the basic run down of how things happened with Dale: I was sitting on the couch with Sarah, Steve was sitting at his computer in one corner of the room, Dale was sitting on a stool at the counter, with his own computer. He'd finished saving the company for that day and was just playing around. Sarah and I were talking about how cool her apartment is, and how cool New York is, and I said, quite innocently, "Can I stay? Can I, like, live in your closet or something?" (This would not be a bad deal. It's quite possible her closet is bigger than Roo's dorm room. Perhaps I should pause to explain how incredibly cool her apartment is. It's in an old office building, which has a hotel feel. The apartment has a really modern, clean feel. Huge windows, 25 foot ceilings, stairs to a loft bedroom, bath, and closet. Downstairs there's a living room area, a little nook, a freaking fireplace, the counter - which basically connects the living room and kitchen, another closet, and a bathroom. And somehow, some way, they have this without promising their first-born child to their super. How I do not know. But it's a fantastic apartment.) So, anyway, we're sitting in front of the big window, with Dale at the counter, and I say, "Can I, like, live in your closet or something?" and at the exact same moment, Sarah and I both say, "No! No!" and laugh about how I just got out, and I'm not going back in, and that was so not what I meant. Sarah hushed herself a little because Dale was right there, and I hadn't told him; I quieted down too, and just made this "Oy!" gesture in Dale's direction, which prompted Sarah to say, "Just go for it." So I pretended I was twelve and followed instructions. (Kidding. I made my own choice.)
I made sure he wasn't still busy with work, that he was playing, that his mood was somewhat improved, and then I said, slowly, "So, Dale... Sarah and I were just talking, and I was asking her if I could move in, if I could live in the closet, but she said no, I'm not allowed to live in her closet because I just came out of one."
Dale said, "What?"
I repeated my story.
Dale said, "What?"
I began to wonder if I was being too vague. (I mean, I knew I couldn't throw him a ball and ask him to figure that out, but this wasn't *so* subtle.) I started to wonder if he was screwing with me. Sarah tried to help. "She's serious. She's trying to tell you something serious."
Dale said, "What?"
I said, "Dale! I like girls." He sort of tensed. Stiffened, maybe. He looked at me like I'd just promised him a joke and left out the punchline. Told a story with no point. I couldn't tell if he was just as cool with it as Sarah or if something was wrong. Something felt wrong. Especially when he said, "Great. Me, too," and went back to his computer. I was like, "Well, great, I feel a hell of a lot better now," (silently.) I was like, what the fuck just happened?
Now, here comes the really great part. Next day. Joe has arrived; Mom has insisted we go ice skating. Of all possible tortures. I'd never been ice skating, and here's the thing: I really don't enjoy sucking at things. I especially don't enjoy sucking at things in a public arena with lots of people around. I was not into the idea of skating, but we were going skating, so what the hell. I took the last shower, and I was getting all this crap about not getting ready fast enough - because obviously, by the time it got to me, everyone else was ready, and I ended up really pissed off because I felt like everyone was just cutting at me all morning, and it sucked. And on top of that suckage, we were going to walk to Taiwan (or therabouts), and I was going to put on skates, and attempt to stand up in them, even though I didn't know how, was already exhausted from three days of intense walking, and oh, did I mention my toe's infected? (No, I didn't - because it's nasty. But I have some sort of hereditary predisposition for that; it happens a couple times a year. Suck.) So, yes. Happy day.
By the time we got to the rink, I'd decided to be in a better mood. I'd decided to put on skates, and suck, and own the fact that I sucked. I felt fairly decent. So, we all went out onto the ice - Sarah and Joe were on hand, holding me up, et cetera, for a whole, say, forty seconds before my mom fell. And for some reason, maybe because nothing had really gone terribly wrong in the trip so far, she didn't just fall. She fell hard. On her tailbone. She has a hairline fracture in her tailbone. And if you haven't ever bruised your tailbone, you might think that's pretty bad. But if you have bruised your tailbone you have some idea of how incredibly bad that really is. She spent an hour with her head between her knees, trying not to pass out; her color was awful, and at one point she was curled up in the fetal position, while I petted her and watched to make sure she kept breathing. It was, to understate things, really uncool. She insisted she didn't need to go to the hospital, that she'd be fine, that we all go off and have fun. Dale had never intended to skate, so he stayed with her, and eventually Sarah, Joe, and I went back out. I proceeded to have six or seven of my own falls. I don't think I've ever fallen that much in one day, unless it was when I was learning to ride a bike. Seriously uncool. I have these massive bruises around my left knee. They're really pretty. But anyway. I eventually made it around the entire rink, and one of the falls wasn't my fault. I was actually balanced and some idiot who'd decided to skate backwards flew into me from behind, and I hit the ice again. My first thought was that I had to get up before one of the employees skated over because I was not going to let them think I'd fallen *again* when really I'd been knocked down. (Sing the Chumbawumba, baby.) Anyway. I did eventually get to a point where I said to Sarah, "I can actually conceive of how this could, potentially, be fun" ... which was progress. Still, I felt I'd had enough after about forty minutes. I went back over to where I thought my mom would be, but she wasn't there. I found Dale and he told me she was out in the masses looking for Sarah and Joe, while I was in a different part of the masses looking for her. Eventually, Sarah, Joe, and Mom found each other, and Mom once again baffled all of us by explaining that she wanted to go skate. Again. You know. A few minutes after fracturing her tailbone. Ok, a few hours. But still. We sent the three of them skating, and Dale and I sat together on the bench. And that's when the real fun started, let me tell you.
[Interruption because my mom is going to be home any minute, and I just listened to my phone message. Which was from Dwight. Dwight! Dwight called me! Eiiieeee! And it's so beautiful. I love him so much I almost kissed the phone. I'll probably write down what he said before erasing the message. Even though he gave me the number to call him back. Eeee. He called me! He said he was giving me "a jingle back" and that it sounded like I'm growing in leaps and bounds... and that he's proud of me. Does that not just fix everything, give or take a few crises? Godd, I love him. I write him a little note and he calls me! And he says the most beautiful things, which just makes things crazy-good because in Dwight-speak everything seems beautiful...and... aiy! My heart grew three sizes today. Love is so so good.]
But back to Dale and I on the bench. (Back to the story anyway; I'm not exactly inclined to relive that moment right now, when I get to be in this one! Dude, I can't believe how blessed I am. Squee, Dwight! Eh-hem. Ok. Back to story.) I sit down and Dale says, "About that conversation we had yesterday?" and I'm like, "Yeah?" and he explains that his response was basically a result of how I sprung it on him. He honest-to-godd told me that many people have come out to him over the years, and there's a way to do it (a right way, one infers) - which is not the way that I did it. He was explaining to me how to correctly come out. Dale. Explaining. Correctly. Yeah. (When I told the doctor this, he made that short sigh-pained-laugh noise that basically translates to, "Oh, for Godd's sake." I felt affirmed.) Apparently, when one decides to tell someone, let's say Two, that one is gay, One and Two should have a one-on-one conversation. (Now isn't that confusing.) According to Dale, it's wrong to tell someone when you're in a room with other people. Now, I do have some sympathy for this, but let's start with the rant. The doctor (good old doctor, living inside my head, shouting stuff at me, backing up my healthy thoughts) had told me that I didn't need to worry about being "fair" to my siblings; I didn't need to worry about them when I decided how to say this. Even though I still would, by default, try to make it easy for them, that was not to be my focus because, damnit, this is about me. And what's more (this part I figured out for myself), I had no way of knowing what Sarah or each of my brothers would need to feel comfortable. The only discomfort I could try and contain was my own - because I knew what I needed. There's no way to ask someone what they're going to need when you tell them something you haven't yet told them. You know? And there's just no way in hell that I would have pulled Dale into another room at this point. We never talk. We never have real conversations. Pulling him aside would have felt like setting myself up for a long, long disertation on how to exist. And so, even now, knowing how he would have liked me to tell him, I don't think I would have followed that handbook. And there's more. More. After explaining to me the correct way to come out, which he knew because he'd had friends come out to him correctly, he told me that he basically "went through that" at some point - I didn't catch when - growing up. I know this was an attempt at bonding. I understand that he was trying to connect with me, and I appreciate that, but like I said, I don't feel like what happened reflected what either of us intended. So, he told me that at one point, his best friend came out, and when that happened, Dale wondered for awhile if he was also gay. The problem with this information is that, on the tails of the orders around how to properly come out, not to mention the tails of nearly 20 years' of overbearing and controlling behavior, it felt - and to some extent, I really believe it was, an attempt to once again be ahead of me. I don't think he means to be controlling, really; I don't think his goal is to hurt or alienate me... but I think that's just his pattern at this point, and you know, he's not in therapy (and I don't believe there's a member of my family who can really get past our bullshit histories and coping mechanisms without it) and he doesn't know what else to do. But come on. Having your straight older brother tell you that he's been through this because like every other person on the planet, he questioned it for a time, is downright infuriating. I told the doctor it made about as much sense to me as it would if Dale talked to me about what it's like to have blue hair. This is something with which he can in no way have more experience than I do, and he still pulled up evidence of how he supposedly does. Because, for whatever reason, it's not safe for me to have experiences/ experience that he has not/ does not have. But seriously, what the fuck? I'm honestly sorry that he felt uncomfortable, as if he had an audience, when I told him. It never occurred to me that Sarah and Steve's presence would strike him as observational. And I'm really sorry that, he explained, he rally didn't hear a word I said until the, "Dale! I like girls!" moment. All of my jokes, all my introduction, all of my prologue disappeared into what are apparently poor acoustics. Sigh. Bizarrely, this mistake helped us cope afterward (from my perspective) - because what Dale was basically saying to me was that I'd done something wrong, which if I agreed would be reason for me to apologize. Since I sure as hell was not going to apologize for any of the things I'd chosen to do (the doctor was relieved to hear that, too) having this "oh, shit; I'm so sorry it worked out that way" aspect made it easier to comiserate with him. I could focus on how much what I hadn't intended had sucked for him, something I was sorry about but not responsible for. As opposed to the things I was responsible for but not sorry about. Right. Anyway, we'll see how that goes. One good thing I learned is that it's apparently not incredibly weird to Dale to go up to someone the day after a conversation and discuss an issue you had with it. I would not have expected that; I would have guessed he'd resent having it brought back up. Maybe he does; maybe it only worked because he brought it up, but if not - it's a good thing for me to know. It occurred to me, after I spent some bitter moments venting about how infuriating his comments were and imagining blurting it out to Joe and John in the middle of the living room with everyone present (just to prove that, damnit, I make the decisions in my life) that I could approach him and work through the conversation further. I didn't actually do it. This time. But I think I might the next time...
So, at the very least, things between Dale and I aren't any worse for my having told him. We even ended up joking with Sarah and Steve about how, unless Joe or John had something to tell us, Steve's cornered the market on potential brother-in-law. (At which point someone threw in that Steve might also have something to tell us. Or Sarah might. But I don't see that happening. They've reached their five-year anniversary, and they're still so cute, although it's more comfortable and not so sickeningly so... ok, they were never sickening. But they were very mushy. Now they're just adorable. Adorable and really used to working with each other, which is a nice thing to witness. My mom says they're under all sorts of pressure from Steve's family to get married; his grandma wants a ring on Sarah's finger for the holiday, et cetera. Which sucks. Because what they have is so good; people, in my opinion, should just let them have it. What they decide to do with their relationship is up to them. I consider them as committed and more functional than most married couples. However, I did promise my sister that if she ever decided to marry, and did anything remotely traditional, I'd be her maid of honor. My suggestion for Christmas is that they both wear ring pops for his grandma. Too bad it's really not a situation to make light of in that manner. I'm assuming decoder rings are out also. Damn.) Whoa, tangent. Where was I? Going down the line, I suppose. I find it almost amusing that I made a point to have this trip be about more than telling my family, and that's all I'm talking about. But I can do the normal "what I did on my vacation" entry later. This is what I feel the need to debrief around, and hooray, it's my journal. So it works out.
So down the line, we're done skating, we're done with whatever we did afterward, and we're back on the train headed to Sarah's. I'm thinking about what Dale said, about how I need to tell Joe and John, and I'm a little worried that he's right. I know - to some extent - that this is about me, but I wonder if the difference between Sarah's response and Dale's wasn't, to some extent, about the gender difference. Up until that point, I'd assumed their responses were different because their personalities are, but as I got closer to a point where I assumed I'd tell Joe and John, I worried that it was just going to be more difficult and suck more with brothers than it did with my sister. Happiness? This was not at all the case. Rock.
I ended up telling John before Joe, which broke my "in the order they came" streak, but the opportunity showed up more quickly, and what's more I've been ready to tell John since... well, for awhile now. He went out to smoke, and I caught up to him on the hallway. I told him that I had something to tell him, that was just awkward no matter how I said it, so - here. I think when I told John I said I was gay. Which would be testimony to the "you don't want to tell people until you've accepted it, but telling people helps you to accept it" theory, as I'd pretty much stuck with "I like girls" up to that point. Don't get me wrong; I still believe the label's a bit misleading... but I felt ok saying this is something I am for the first time. John was freaking awesome about it. Seriously. The great thing about John (well, there are many, but one great thing about John) is that it's so important to him to be a good big brother, but - with everyone except me, he's the younger brother. So although he's protective, and although some of the advice he gives me I don't feel inclined to use, it's just a really sweet dynamic. It's the kind part of him that not too many people get to see, the reason I could not understand for the life of me why people in Highland thought he was a jerk. Because he is so not. Anyway. I told him sort of flat out, and he basically nodded and asked me how I was doing. So, I let him know how it was kind of awkward, but not bad, and that I'd known - in our nuclear family - everyone would be ok with it, eventually... meaning no one was going to stand on their tiptoes and yell "Sinner!" at me. That made him laugh. The fact that I chose "sinner." Because it's true. In our nuclear family, it's freaking impossible. Then I joked about how the relationship I supposedly have with his best friend (a fabricated romance John created years ago because at the time, it made both me and his best friend nuts) was a sham, an attempt to cover this up. I told him how Dale's response had been hard, and how telling Sarah was hilariously simple. I told him I still needed to tell Joe and Dad, but everyone else knew. He said, "Oh, so - Effie and Nana know? And the entire [Mom's side] clan?" I laughed really hard, and followed him into the elevator. I told him that of course, I'd gone to [our three most conservative aunts/uncles] first, then told him that I planned to postpone being officially disowned for awhile, which also made him laugh. We had a really long conversation then - a bit like being on the phone with him - but most of it was great. He actually talked about relationships and sexuality and all of that shit, and how it's hard for everyone, and confusing for everyone, and some of his own struggle with that. Which was interesting; I didn't expect anyone to go into that. ...From there we started talking about his alcohol overdose and why he hasn't told the rest of the family about it, and my eating disorder, and how it was when people found out about that. Basically just telling people difficult things, with the understanding that this particular thing, unlike the other two, did not suck. Eventually, we did end up back where John is right now; he was just venting about the things he's been pissed about for weeks now, and I was just listening... But it was good. He gave me a hug (something the doctor was really proud of, I think... I'm telling you, I'm way too exceptional in seeing the sweet John) and I thanked him for being so cool about this, and he shrugged and said it rocked that, with something like this, all you have to do - basically - to be cool is to not care. "Not like apathy," he said, but I understood him right away. And it's true. He did cool things on top of that, but the main thing is to not give a fuck. I don't want people to dismiss it or pretend it doesn't matter, but I don't want it to matter more than any other part of me. And I think my siblings just... got that. Almost instantly. It's crazy to me how quickly they integrated it, and how at ease they seemed. (Ok, so there's that one exception, but that wasn't about the information, it was about the relationship needing work.) Unless I was missing something, they've probably joined my mom in the camp of "officially more ok with it than Mary is." For better or worse.
(Almost) everything about being with Joe this trip was freaking fantastic. We so bonded; it was crazy. I spent practically my entire childhood wondering how he and Sarah were so close, when they were so very different, and in New York, I was just like, "of course they're close; they both rock"... Joe and I have started to have a relationship in the years since he went to college; he's started laughing at my jokes, so I've started making more of them. (He heard me tell Sarah I actually made him laugh, and seemed surprised that this was considered such an achievement. Someone said he was the litmus test of humor...) And basically this trip was all about joking and connecting. Joe and I have been tortured for as long as I can remember by this accusation that we're twins (despite the nearly three year age difference) because we're supposedly so similar. And somehow, on this trip, that stopped being a bad thing. It was so, so cool. Similarity in my family, according to the doctor - who, let's face it, has seen quite a few of us - is considered seriously dangerous. Being different, being unique is so important (and at the same time, you have to be One of Us; you have to be different within the family - for instance, you can choose which art form you prefer, but you will be an artist) that we've always resisted it. (Plus, it's annoying to be told you're just like someone else.) But there was just all this joking about it in New York. Joe even said something like, "I guess we are twins" and he wasn't upset. It was really strange. And I was like, cool! We're like brother and sister! My brother likes me!
There was one point where we were sitting on the subway, and I looked up and realized we were in the exact same posture. It was rather strange. And then later, we went to this kickass bakery to pick up unjustly delicious desserts, and I chose the chocolate mousse, and Joe gave an approving, conspiratorial nod and chose it as well. So back at the apartment, we were hamming up how incredibly rich and painfully tasty it was; Joe started giving Sarah crap about how she was jealous because she'd gotten some stupid cheesecake thing, while we'd picked this kickass chocolate mousse. T'was amusing. They were the tiniest little desserts, and neither one of us could eat it in one sitting. When Joe went back to work on his for the second time, I said, "Round Two. Bite" - which is a Mortal Kombat reference, and which *again* made him laugh, which made me all giddy... and not long after that, I went up to him in the corner of the room and asked if he was ready for his time in the hallway. (John and I had been gone for over an hour; I figured he might have caught on that we were talking about something.) But he just sort of looked at me, and I told him I needed to tell him something, and he just sort of looked at me like, "Ok. What? Just tell me." Well, there's an ongoing joke - mainly between my brothers - that Joe is gay, basically because he fits the Queer Eye/ "metrosexual" criteria. And ages ago, a joking match between John and Joe resulted in the conclusion that while John "wrote the book on Gay" the book "was about his brother Joe." I've never known quite how to feel about all the joking; obviously it made me kind of uncomfortable. My brothers aren't malicious, but they have made jokes about people being gay in the past, and I guess I never knew what was behind it and worried what they'd think... Plus, I was never quite clear whether Joe was defensive about being called gay because it wasn't true or because it was something less-than-ok to be. I don't know. It's difficult to explain because I know they're not judgmental... I guess I just didn't know exactly how accepting they were. But anyway. I went up to Joe and explained that I had something to tell him, and then I just launched into, "Not to... infringe on your territory or anything... but... um... I actually am gay."
He looked at me for a moment, nodded, smiling said "not to infringe on my territory" and laughed. I said, "So. That's the not-such-a-surprise ending to the Book on Gay," and literally five seconds later, we were all sitting around the coffee table joking. I remember all these times over the past few months, when I've been inclined to make that sort of joke, and not been able to, and wished that it could just be that simple, that ok. I was totally baffled at how quickly it happened. It was integrated almost instantly into the joke, it was added to the reasons we're twins, and bam! we were back to talking as siblings, not avoiding the issue, but not giving a shit. I told everyone how John had asked if my mom's family knew, and they joked that one of our extremely conservative family members would actually throw me a party or some shit, and I said, "Dude, if they throw me a party, you're coming" because it's so not happening. But hey, I have my siblings and that's good. And I don't intend to walk away from my extended family, so I expect some relationships won't be severed there.
I still need to tell my dad. I was thinking I might ask if he has a day this week when we could get together and watch Christmas movies because there's never time to do it over the holiday, and we both like to see them. I think it'll be better if I tell him in his apartment than if I tell him when we're out somewhere. Unfortunately, I'm just so fucking tired. And everyone's telling me not to push myself, and I know that makes sense, but... well, in large part, it's the fairness thing. I want him to know because everyone else does. And I have this fear that someone will let it slip, and then he'll have found out from someone other than me, and that'll be horrible, like I was keeping it from him... I'm just paranoid. I don't want him to feel more cut off than he already does. But maybe it's just too much to push myself to do it this week. A normal visit with my dad - especially at his apartment, where it involves seeing my grandma, too - is a lot for me to manage; maybe it's just too much right away. If I let myself look back a week, I was having a hard time before New York, and then there was New York, and now there's now. Maybe I just need to rest...
But there's so much I want to do! I don't want to spend my time resting, even though I'd like to rest. Whether I'm in a hyperproductive mode because I was doing more in New York, just honestly have all sorts of things I want to work on right now, am trying to avoid stopping long enough to see where my head goes, or a combination of all that, I don't know. I'm glad I finally listened to my phone message. I feel a little guilty, which is sad. I feel bad that it's so wonderful to hear from Dwight and that his words mean so much to me. He's one of very few obvious adults in my life, by which I mean I really feel like he's older than me, an uncle or father figure or something. And he's not really a father figure... I mean, technically, that doesn't make a lot of sense...but he is one of a handful of men I've known who are consistently nurturing and supportive. A really small handful. I don't want to feel guilty for appreciating him; I don't want to feel sad over a perfectly good relationship. Maybe I should look into that guilt-as-a-substitute-for-anger possibility, and see if I'm not actually upset less with myself for knowing someone like Dwight than I am with my dad for not being more like that himself. I love my dad, but he just... he gave up. Way too early. My dad is one of those nurturing, gentle, kind men... and it's gotten so lost and been so compromised by all the bullshit he won't change. Maybe can't change now. But could have. At one point, he could have changed it, and he chose not to... And if that means I need a week's rest before I can tell him something important, or I unintentionally stack him up against someone who's managed to be so good to me... I'm sorry. I guess it's not my fault. I guess maybe it can be ok to love someone who isn't my dad, along with my dad. I guess it can be ok to appreciate someone, partly because how well they love is a rarity in my experience, and want to keep them in my life.
...It's not my fault I know the best people in the world. And my dad's one of them. He's just not the only one.
Ok. Shooting off an e-mail to my siblings to remind them Dad doesn't know, explain that I'm tired, and ask that they keep it quiet until I give them the ok. And to call dibbs on the gift I bought for Sarah. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk about what it was actually like to be in New York again, instead of what it's like to talk to my siblings. But come on. It was kind of a big deal.
Kind of. It hasn't hit me yet. It's too surreal. I don't believe this is really my life, so I certainly don't believe I'm telling people it's my life. I'm kind of scared to let it hit me. This week will probably be rather interesting. I have a suspicion Friday's session will feel quite a bit less like "just the facts, ma'am." Er. Stay tuned. I'm a human epic these days.
~me