Tag Archives: ordinary

nothing is ordinary.

I guess it’s about time I talk about some of the stuff in my life. I’m not yet ready to talk about my own health issues that I am currently dealing with. I feel like putting them out in the open would make it more real. And I’m not ready for that. Yet. So I will pick another topic that has been buried inside me for the last two weeks. I feel like it is eating me alive. And maybe, I hope, that getting it out will help me deal with some of the emotions. Quantify them. Break them open into the sunlight.

I have had thoughts of killing myself for more years than I can count. It is a known feeling to me. It is not out of the ordinary and I have come to know the feeling well. But I have never known the feeling of wanting to kill someone else. Now, please, understand I do not mean that in an absolute literal sense. You do not need to call the police or think that you will see me end up on the nightly news. But, hear me out. These emotions are new to me and I am struggling to find the words for them.

I guess I should start from the beginning. In a story that is not truly mine to tell, but I am a character in nonetheless. I am not a central figure, which is why I have never written about it. But it has become a part of my life and something that can, at times, consume me. As my emotions are not always my own. I’m sorry if this is going to end up being a long post. But I feel I need to get all of this out. Maybe in order for anyone who is reading this to truly understand. Maybe so that I can understand as well where these emotions come from.

The story, well, it probably starts when I was a kid. And my sister first entered my life. I was 8 years old and she was 6. Our mothers became best friends and, in turn, we became family. I have been protective of her from the beginning. I have always fiercely defended her. When I was 10, I punched a 12 year old boy because he would not stop making fun of her, even after I asked him to stop. I have never fought for myself. But I have always fought for her. Always.

Now that you understand that I can jump ahead quite a bit. My nephew’s father was a highly immature man and so he left the picture when Austin was only six months old. Which, in all honesty, was for the best. But as a fairly young mother, my sister was terrified of being a single parent. And so the first man that came into her life, she clung to him as if her life depended on it. In the beginning, I had no real issues with Adam. He was good with Austin and seemed to believe in the concept of family that we had. I didn’t have a good feeling when I was around him, but I chalked that up to me just being protective of my sister and not wanting her to settle for less than she deserved. Adam was quite a bit older than her and had a really good job so I went along with it because she seemed to be happy. At first.

Adam and my sister rushed their relationship fairly quickly and, within a year, they were married. There was just something about Adam that none of us liked, but we put up with it because he seemed to be what my sister wanted. Then, slowly, all of the truth about him came tumbling out. Finding its way to the surface for all of us to see. He was an alcoholic. He was addicted to gambling. He was emotionally abusive. He was controlling. He had nothing to his name, even though he had a six figure income. He hated us. All of it came to light. Slowly, then all at once we began to see him for what he truly was.

I can’t even count how many times I have received calls from my sister in the middle of the night. Hearing her cry breaks my heart. Every single time. I have had to go pick up her and the kids in the middle of the night so that they could get a night of peace at my house. I have held her as she cried. I have listened to her pour her heart out. I have seen the fear in her eyes. The words unsaid in what she does tell me. There have been countless threats of her leaving him. Of her wanting to break free. Of her wanting to get out. At one point she actually did leave him for a couple of months. And during that time, she became the person that I remember her being. Because that was the other thing, while she has been with Adam she has become someone different. Submissive. Dependent. For lack of another word, a victim. But when she left him, I saw some of her independence coming back. Her motivation to have a better life. But it was only short lived. She wanted to give her marriage “one more chance”. And so she returned to him. About a month later she got pregnant with my niece. And that’s when things really went downhill.

My sister then felt that she was “stuck” as she now had another child to feed. And she was completely dependent on Adam. And he, in turn, became even more controlling. The situation became even more of a nightmare.

A month ago there was yet another huge fight and we thought that this would finally be it. That my sister would finally leave. But, yet again, she said that she wanted to give it one more chance. She told me that she needed to know that she did everything she could to make her marriage work. That she wanted no regrets. And so all I could do was tell her that I would support her. But in my gut, I had a bad feeling. I get those sometimes. Just really bad feelings. And I never know where they come from. But they’re there. And I only know afterwards why. And I know now.

A week and a half ago, just as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed that I had four missed calls from my sister. Never a good sign. But it is also something I have become used to as she will do that when they get into a fight. So I called her back a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. I started getting really worried. I called one more time. She answered. Through tears she told me that she would need to call me back as she was with the police. My heart started racing. My adrenaline pumping. Fear raging through my mind. Was she ok? Were the kids ok? What the hell was going on?

She finally called me back. Adam finally crossed the line that I was hoping would never be crossed. To be perfectly frank, he beat the shit out of her. Mostly in the face. Punched her at least ten times. And attempted to strangle her. She was attempting to leave. And he finally did it. He finally had nothing more to lose. And he crossed that final line between emotional abuse and physical abuse.

So here’s where my emotions come in. I want to kill him. No, I’m not going to. But I have so much hate towards him that I can’t even think about it because I can’t control the feeling. Like I said at the beginning, I have always protected her. With no regard for myself. But this, this I could never protect her from. Over the last three years I have listened to her. Tried to give her advice. Tried to get her to see the truth of her situation. But as I looked at the bruises on her face, the bruises on her neck, her eyes almost completely swollen shut, none of that mattered. I had to walk into a back room and close the door so she could not see or hear me break down crying. I have known heartbreak before. But nothing like this. To see her so damaged and broken, it broke me. I could not stop this. And so the emotions course through me. And when I try and think about them, to break them down into their components, I find that I can’t. There is just too much. I have never known anger like this. I am not naturally an angry person. But this, this is something else entirely. I know anyone would have trouble if they were faced with this. But me, I can’t control the emotions. The rage. The hate. The pain. The sadness. It’s all a mess inside. And nothing about this is ordinary.


letter to a nation.

ImageLast night, as I was standing in my bedroom, I had a realization.  It hit me with the force of a punch and brought tears to my eyes.  But it was nothing but good.  And pure.  As I was standing there, surrounded by everything that I have worked so hard to attain, I had the realization that I have truly been blessed in this life.  For just a second, I took all of it in, and I realized that I have everything in this life that I have ever wanted.  For so long, it was never enough.  I always felt as if there was something missing.  Some piece that I couldn’t figure out.  I work at a job that I hate, but it has given me the opportunity to own a house.  I own a car, pink slip in hand, that always gets me from point A to point B.  I have a loving family that continues to support me and be there for anything that I may need.  I have had all of these things for a long time, but it never felt complete.  And as I stood there looking around, I realized that what brought everything together and made me feel complete was the addition of my fiancé into my life.  She made this house into a home.  She made my daily life into a fairy tale.  She was that missing piece of the puzzle that brought it all together to give me that feeling of satisfaction.  I had a relationship before.  I was in that relationship when I bought the house.  When my car got paid off.  When I paid off my debt.  But it was a broken relationship that made everything in my life feel just as broken.  But when I met my fiancé, it all changed.  I was at a place in my life where I could follow one of two paths.  The first path, I could’ve continued to deteriorate, to drink, to do drugs, and I probably would’ve been dead within a year.  The second path would be to fix myself.  To fix my life.  To mold it into what I had always wanted.  The second path seemed too hard.  Too covered and hidden that I didn’t even know where to find it.  But when my fiancé entered my life, that second path that once seemed so unattainable, became my only choice.  It became very clear to me that this life was worth holding onto.  I already had stability in my life in the sense that I never had to worry about money or where I was going to sleep that night or what I was going to eat.  But my fiancé brought me emotional stability.  She brought me to a place in which I feel fully supported for the first time.  It allows me to appreciate everything in my life in a light that I never was able to experience before.  So as I had that realization, I also knew that I needed to put something else out there.  There is a national debate currently going on regarding gay marriage.  Some states have decided that gay marriage should be legal.  Other states have amended their constitution to make gay marriage illegal.  Every state has a different viewpoint.  Just as every person has a different viewpoint as well.  So with that, I need to write this so that people can see into my life.  My life not only as a person with Borderline Personality Disorder.  But also my life as a gay individual.

You see, my life is not much different than yours.  My fiancé and I live a relatively normal life.  Most people who are against gay marriage don’t understand that.  They believe that we live this entire life of sin and horrible acts.  So to those who believe that, I say this:

I am no different than you.  My relationship is no different than your own. 

My fiancé tells me to take out the trash.  She tells me when I do not wash the dishes to her satisfaction.  She lets me know when I missed a spot when I was cleaning.  She has molded our house into a home with picture frames and other wall decorations.  She likes things to be as clean as possible (I have also found that having a clean house is something I truly enjoy as well, plus it decreases my anxiety).  She does our laundry and tells me when I did not put dirty clothes in the correct basket.  We argue about minor details of our life, and then make up moments later.  She wakes up in the morning to make me breakfast so that I start my day out right, even though she doesn’t have to be at work for hours after me.  She wakes up when it is 5* outside just so she can go turn my car on for me so it can warm up before I have to leave.  She takes care of me when I am sick.  She makes sure that I do not eat anything that will hurt my stomach (I have gastroesophageal reflux disease and so I cannot eat certain things).  She holds me when I cry, even though she hates tears.  She listens when I have something that I need to get out.  She forces me to communicate the feelings inside of me so that it can help me and also our relationship.  When she does not work, she cleans while I am at work and makes sure I come home to a hot dinner.  She works long days just so that she can make sure we have enough money in our account.  She tells me her stories and opens up her life to me, as I do with her.  She wants me to make sure I spend time with my friends.  She sits in the cold and windy rain during my softball games, just so I can know that she supports me and is there to cheer me on.  She handles my parents with grace, which is not always an easy task.  She strives to make sure that everyone in her life, especially me, are happy and taken care of.  You see, in every sense of the word, she is my wife.  My partner in this life.  We are the same as every straight couple I know.

Tonight we are going to an event to help feed the homeless.  We will be bringing a dish that will be served and we will stand in the cold for a couple hours to make sure that every single person that is hungry will have a plate of food.  The people that will come to us do not care that we are gay.  The clothes donations that we will be taking with us will not be turned away just because they were once worn by a lesbian.  The people that we will encounter tonight will only see us for what we truly are, fellow humans.  At my work, the clients on my cases do not care who I go home to at night.  They do not care that I do not wear dresses or skirts.  They could care less that I plan to marry a woman and have already put a ring on her finger to symbolize my commitment to her.  They see me as someone that can help them and that is what they need me to do for them.  They see me as a person, which is what I am.  I am saying all of these things because this is the truth of it, I am just a person.  My fiancé is as well.  Our relationship does not impact anyone else’s life.  Our love does not matter to anyone that we encounter in our daily life.  Our life is just like yours.  Denying me the right to marry the love of my life will not affect me.  I will continue to love who I want to love.  Perhaps you are just jealous of what I have.  That my commitment goes beyond any piece of paper.  Or maybe you just think that you are better than me.  Either way, if you ever truly needed me, you would take my help.  I know you would.  And that is okay.  Because I will continue to offer it whether you believe in my love or not.  But just so you know, I’m just like you.  My home life is just like yours.  My daily life is just like yours.  And if you ever doubt that or try to think differently, read this again.  I will still be here. Thanks to the woman who saved me. Who showed me what unconditional love is. Our love is real, whether you believe in it or not. I am just like you.