I didn’t come out till I was in my late twenties.  My mother had been long dead and any reservations I had about being wrong about being lesbian were nil because I had met a Someone who felt some kind of way about me.

It was still difficult, because I had to contend with the rag-tag group of people I had cobbled around me.  The main ones were knee deep Bible toting Christians who came to know the Me I let them.  That wholesome, do right, God-fearing disabled woman, who was dependable as rain and as loyal as they came.  They had no idea that I was also a closeted, Gold Star, dyed in the wool, lesbian.  I valued their opinions so much that I had forsaken my own needs, carnal though they are, to keep them thinking the wonderful nice things I thought they thought about me.

Though I had a vast majority of poetic pieces that I could share with them, the ones that were the dearest to me, the ones about woman/woman relationships, the stories about women loving women, I couldn’t even broach.  I couldn’t let that vulnerability be mocked and shamed as I, in defense of my own same sex relationship was to be once I came out to them.

To say it was painful would be an understatement.  Imagine all the adult friends you came to make, falling away like you were infected with the plague.  Even a family member made me shut down to a certain degree over the whole concept that I love those who are my own sex.

Maybe it was too much for them to accept that even as a disabled woman, that I had needs that needed to be fulfilled more than what I was getting platonically.  Maybe it was the idea that I would love at all that made it so hard for them to accept.  Maybe they felt threatened that they would some how “lose” me as a friend/helper/do girl/confidante that scared them the most.  What ever it wound up being, I chose to keep some peace and sanity by breaking up with my one and only (thus far) partner.

To be certain, there were other factors that contributed to my break up but one of the biggest was that I couldn’t handle being torn down by the ones who at one time helped to build me up.  And I couldn’t continue betting on a relationship that seemed doomed to fail.  So I bowed out and have been Solo since.  It’s been five years.

In that time, I’ve done a lot of soul searching, a lot of crying, a lot of thinking and a loooot of healing.  I’ve finally reached a point where I’ve forgiven Her, forgiven myself and I am still working on forgiving those who hurt me at a time I needed them the most.  Hey – two out of three ain’t bad.

I’ve been setting intentions of cultivating my inner strength and inner peace – the two things that eluded me during that time.  I’ve also set intentions to be fully present and to receive the love that is right for me at this point of my life.  Yes, I am opening myself to love again.  I am hoping that being more mature will help this leg of the journey go a little smoother.

-S