In the last two months I have…
… reconnected with my estranged father, found my cousins whom I haven’t seen since middle school, entered into a swinger relationship with my husband, watched him sleep with someone else, came out as a bisexual publicly, began to be sexually involved with women for the first time, moved across the country and took the only granddaughter on either side of the family with me, told my first love that there was no longer room in my life for him, spent all of my savings until my account was negative $20, ate breakfast every day for a month at a local food bank, wrote two bad checks, helped my husband build his drag queen persona “Tes,” made my mother cry when I told her I no longer believed “the truth” she had raised me to believe about my grandfather, gained 12 pounds and lost my best friend of 25 years, made some amazing new friends, started an off-beat card business, decided I really want to become a surrogate mother in the future, got a new career, attempted to write a thesis, edited my first book, and tried to maintain sanity, all in the pursuit of “finding myself.”
These things were all set in motion long before the last two months. They were products of the same catalyst: my attempt to write my memoir. What I found as I wrote were my true feelings: about myself, about other people, about my families’ complicated history, about truth, about the existence of God, about loyalty, and about identity. I could not have predicted how much writing about my past would impact my present and my future. As I wrote chapter after chapter on the page, I made choice after choice in my daily life. The culmination of those chapters and those choices got me here: wide awake at night trying to make sense of the journey and pondering my next move.
Despite the fact that it seems my life sort of imploded on me, (which to some extent is true) I am oddly happier than I have ever been; freer. I am totally and completely unsure of the next step in front of me. I lay awake in bed, equally terrified and excited about my next step. I lay there wondering if I can keep what yesterday held at bay, just long enough, to ponder what tomorrow holds.