Jan 192013
 

There is this space -  The careening road toward change

where we spend our time, in between

so long waiting, wanting to come in home to ourselves.

I’ve lived there as long as I can remember. I had never come home to myself. I told myself that this was not something I needed to do.  Something I could put off. Something that wasn’t really a priority.

To come home to myself would mean I would first have to die.

And I’ve been dying for years, by inches.

I’ve grieved the loss of each identity as I realized it no longer fit me, and they’ve come faster and faster and faster: the first twenty-five years of my life spent in denial, and then, like a hothouse flower under bloom I came out first as a dyke then genderqueeer then poly then kinky then trans then spiritual then… well, we’ll see what the future holds. But those last eight years and counting have been quite full, with gender running as a predominant theme throughout.

I denied myself for so long. I denied my right to beauty and truth and individual change: I had been dying by inches, scared to let go of the sure thing even though it was not the thing which would make me happy.

Finally, I hit my wall. Or the ground. Or some other hard surface upon which I would soon splatter with uncomplimentary results.

Amazingly, there were people there to catch me, pick me up, dust me off, and encourage me to face the spectre in the mirror.  Face myself, and realize that I had it within me to quite literally get the center of my discontent off of my chest.  I had it within me because I also had it without; I had friends and chosen family and community to help support me – and, when needed, give that refreshing slap in the face which returns a person from the brink of hysteria.

So I did the scariest thing I have done to date: I opened myself wide open and asked for help.  I put it out into the Loonyverse, and trusted that the outcome would be what I needed.

And I was overwhelmed by the response. I found that I was so blessed that I say thank you like breathing.  Thank you. Thank you, and you and you. Thank you, Loonyverse. Thank you trees outside my home, thank you friends and chosen family and community and you, reading this: thank you. I am so blessed to be here, to have received what I needed from people wishing to give, to finally, finally, leave this waiting space and become the person I am meant to be.  Moving forward. Changing positively. Realizing my own potential, and, hopefully, helping others realize their own.

I am beautiful, and realizing this has been the work of years. I am so thankful for that opportunity, and hope to help others realize just how beautiful they are. How beautiful you are. Thank you for this chance to be reborn.

 

  4 Responses to “Rebirth”

  1. You should always trust the looneyverse, Nik. Don’t be surprised when you hear a little voice. “You have always been wonderful, no matter what facet of yourself that you turn toward the light.”

    • Thank you for that, Floyd. And I hope that you get to hear/follow the loonyverse in the same way. It is much appreciated.

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