Unloving You

Unloving You                    

There was a poem that I found by an artist called Sierra DeMulder her poem was called “Today Means Amen”. I loved it. I am such a fan of spoken word and the emotion trapped behind a single beings words. There was one part where she said “Do you remember the moment you realized they were watching? When you became ashamed of how much light you were holding? When you first learned how to unlove yourself?” That part made me realize time travel is possible. I traveled back to a time when I was about 5 maybe 6 tops. I was in Sunday school and this little girl was handing out candy to everyone and realized she had extra. She said tot eh teacher “Can I hand out the extras to my friends?” And the teacher said yes. That’s the first time I wondered if there was something wrong with me.  I remember her handing out pieces one by one and the hope that danced in my belly that she would stop at me and deem me enough to be a friend. But no I was not chosen.  You see I haven’t thought about that in years. And I am not exaggerating I haven’t thought of it since the day it happened. It’s been 20 years. You may think “Nikki that’s way too much thinking.” But honestly it took me a car ride to work to remember this. A car ride is no more than 5 miles. It’s amazing how something so little and so insignificant that can cause a wheel to start spinning. Can you remember when you “Learned to ulove yourself?” The next time was a bigger thing for me I was about8 and lightening had struck the tree out back and my best friend at the time was over to help clean up. And I remember thinking that how happy I as that he was my best friend and how I couldn’t love him more than that. I began to think if I could love any boy like that and I began to hate myself because in my world at that time that “Love” was wrong.

Now lets put on the breaks shall we? Yes as an 8 year old I remember these thoughts and I am not just saying this to make an emotional blog. 8 years olds are smart and thinkers. They have brain and emotions too and I remember that Nikki at 8 years old in her white shirt from VBS and worried that the dirt from the cornfield might get on my shirt from the struck tree. And I was raised Christian. And anyone who points their fingers at my parents and says they caused me to “Unlove” myself needs to have that finger broken. I made the choice to closet myself for 20 plus years and I chose to no read and study the scripture to see what it really says. No one forced me. I chose it and I chose to hide. My parents love me and love my wife.

Lets get back to the blog shall we? Oh yes I am 8 and dragging a huge piece of tree behind me deep in thought. So from then on I realized I was different and I saw how that was not normal. So I began to unlove myself and as I got older destroy my body. I was a cutter for a very long time. I have scars that paint across my arms to remind me of a battle I waged in my soul.

                Do you remember when you unloved yourself? When your beautiful dancing and singing became an annoyance to others? When you’re beautiful different became an ugly closet? I don’t care if you are gay or straight we all have our own closets to come out of. We all have that perceived ugly to mild back to the beauty it once was.

I remember when I began to love myself again. I was out on my own laying in my bed after my work place burnt down and I said to myself “Nikki you might be gay.” And then I prayed that lie away. It was a very long journey to accept my sexual orientation.  And even longer journey to accept my love for others. And a longer journey at that to accept my beautiful body. (still on that one by the way.)

Every time I come across someone different than I, I remind myself that they are fully aware of their difference.  I am sure that they have nights that eat them alive and the voices remind them constantly that they aren’t the same as me. But I hope to be the voice of celebration in their life that rejoices that they are different than I am. Celebrate that with those people in your life. Help them learn to love themselves. Don’t be that memory that helps them to unlove.            

I just got another tattoo that say  “NON OMINIUS MORIAR” It means not all of me shall die. I believe that we all leave an imprint in this world. Will yours be a slap in the face to those different, an ugly word of rejection to those who walk a different path, or will it be a soothing balm to the world that is so blistered but the burning hate inside humans? What will live beyond your years? Love?

You choose.

A time for everything....

    If you were raised in church you know the verses’ in the book of Ecclesiastes where it mentions that there is a time for everything. What isn’t explained is that the time for mourning and a time for rejoicing is at some times done simultaneously. As can anything noted in that passage. You see I feel like I am in the middle of almost everything mentioned right now.
    Have you ever seen a person on life support?  Try to follow me here guys, this will make sense I promise.  I have had the unfortunate opportunity to witness it. A part of you wants that person to just wake up and walk out of the room and things go back to what they were. And the other half just wants peace for the one laying there especially when you know it is their time. Relationships can be on life support too. And I find myself in a hospital room surrounded by people I wish would wake up and walk out and let things go on as they were. But a part of me know that its time to lean over kiss them goodbye and pull the plug. When you transition into any new chapter in life there are goodbyes involved. When you take a separate path they are immanent. When I came out I knew it would happen. But my heart can’t seem to catch up with my head and just accept it. I want to be selfish and have all these amazing people still in my life. Though some have blatantly chosen to allow a silent death to the relationship. Now I know I am not the sole victim in this I have laid to rest many relationships in my time I am not saying I am free of this judgment I am just as guilty. 
    But tonight I can’t sleep because I am sad. I feel like my heart is beginning to mourn my losses that surround me: that are dead on the machine in my heart called false hope but these people are far from dead. I see them daily walking in Target or walking anywhere in this town. Its hard to let go when that person is in front of you and you see life in them but no life in the friendship.
    We all want what we can’t have. I have known a couple for 11 years and I know this is one that has no life anymore. They have straight up told me that they have to keep a distance to protect their children from my lifestyle. I don’t see whom I love being a lifestyle but who I am as a person it is me one in the same. But I respect their wishes. However, it doesn’t stop my soul from shattering when these people were apart of my life for over a decade. You may be saying “Nikki! Stop being so negative! They still love you!” Oh my dear, don’t you see I do not doubt their love. I never have. But I can’t seem to turn a blind eye to distance and to a story that has turned it’s last page.
    You see you may think “Well it is your choice that drove the relationship to this. Or maybe my choice to come out.” Yes it was a choice to come out and be happy. But I didn’t choose to be gay. If I was presented with the choice to be straight when God created me I would have chosen the straight card. You may think “That’s terrible what would your wife think?” We have both mentioned the same thing. Sometimes I don’t like being Gay. Because its who I am and imbedded in me. And that thing alone cause distance between people and myself. I don’t like to be the cause of some one needing to protect their kids.
It makes me feel like a disease.  I miss my old friends….and yet I rejoice the new ones who have no distance. I know its time to let go and close these doors. But how do I mourn a person who stands in front of me? How do I erase this lump in my throat when I have nothing but good memories? And why is it so hard to finally be myself? Why does that require more heartache?
    It’s midnight and I have to work in 5 hours.  Writing helps me sleep sometimes.