About Courtie

Hey there I'm Courtie. My blog is mostly just thoughts and lessons that are bouncing around in my mind. I believe heavily in beauty, freedom, love, and truth. I hope you enjoy!

Nightmare land

I stood in our room, tears fighting to release from their dungeon. I watched as you threw all of your things in a suitcase you swore you’d “bring back” to my father. Words bubbled in my throat, only to suicide on the floor as I opened my mouth. We had been so happy for the last three years…and suddenly you chose to go.

“You aren’t the same person as before,” you answered my unspoken thoughts. “you parade around like everything is okay, and when you come home we don’t talk. You just hide in our room under the covers.”

I want to tell you I’m sorry, that I’m trying to get better, but the words don’t come out. I finally free the tears as I watch all of our future plans fade into smoke. You turn to me and I can read all of your thoughts like a book, “I need someone stronger” “you stress too much for me” “I can never seem to make you happy”. I want to tell you you’re wrong, that after a day full of grey clouds you are my sunlight, but I can’t.

As you grab your well packed items, my heart shatters. This is really it, isn’t it. The day I have always dreaded, the day I become a memory. My tears flow at such an alarming rate, I’m sure any moment I will drown, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I can’t beg you to stay, I can’t promise to get better. How can I get better when my sunrise is leaving, dooming me into a world full of grey skies and personal demons.

“You promised to stay…” I selfishly choke out. There I go again, playing the victim. In a calm voice you look at me and say “you promised to try,” before walking out the door.

I crash into the bed, now empty as I hear your car start, knowing now is the time to run after you. To say all the thoughts that were building a dam in my throat. My body refuses to move, but you don’t. I hear you pull out of the driveway for the final time. The tears have stopped flowing, almost to say that they are going with you. Why would they stay with a monster?

After a year I am feeling a slight bit better, and I return to my every day Life. Work in the morning, attending my son’s events at school, only to return home to my very lonely empty bed. It’s a never ending cycle. A monster can’t love, and it will never truly be happy.

My heart races at the thought of you, then breaks knowing I drove you away. I can’t help but feel like I’m in a never ending nightmare, until I hear your voice, I see your smile, and I feel your warm embrace. I don’t want to tell you about the events in the nightmare, I don’t want to hear promises that can’t honestly be kept. I turn to your side of the bed and hope to keep you there for just a little while longer.

Life in a nutshell

I apologize for the lack of posts! I am here but I’ve been spending my time living life.

I’ve been working and raising my kids. One of my children is in baseball, and I’ve been honored to watch him grow as a member of a team. My other child likes learning things with me, so I’m happy to have a little assistant. 

I left a job that didn’t allow much time with my kids to go back to a job that I never really wanted to leave. As far as a worker, I think I’ve found my permanent job, at least until I feel comfortable enough to go to college, and that won’t be any time soon. 

As far as friendships, I have one best friend d who is there for me when I need him, and I’m there when he needs me. If you would have told me I’d have a best friend again after the death of my only best friend, I would have laughed in your face. Congrats Spencer, you’ve earned the title. 

Regarding my love life, I’m very happy to be arriving closer and closer to my three year anniversary with a man who takes me for how I am. He doesn’t expect me to sugar coat how I am. He doesn’t expect me to wear a permanent smile on my face. 

I have finally reached a happiness in my life that I never thought was possible. It was all around me but always out of my reach. 

My lesson for today: love your life. Perfection is all around you. 

Why?

This morning I was relaxing in bed, watching Todrick Hall’s “Straight Outta Oz”, when the following question crossed my mind: WHY. 

Now, before I get going on this, the question was not about the video. As a matter of fact, the video made me feel so many emotions at once, and it was truly a wonderful experience. If you decide you don’t want to listen to a whiny almost 26 year old complain and question things, I suggest you go watch that video. Yes, it’s over an hour, but it’s story will captivate you from beginning to end, and the tears will flow. Please, by all means, enjoy this journey. 

For those of you still with me, let me elaborate on the “why?”. As I was welcomed into Todrick’s masterpiece I noticed I was picking up on the lyrics more than usual. Let’s start with his song “Black and White”. It’s basically stating that we live in a world that wants us to dream, but the dreams better fit into today’s society. No dreaming of better, it needs to conform and be normal. Why?! Nobody in this world is normal, because there is no such thing. My definition of normal is someone who isn’t boring, they have random bouts of silliness. To my boss, normal is someone who is quiet, but not too quiet. To my coworker, normal is working out after work, remaining calm, and being slightly social. There, prime example of three different definitions of normal, proving normal does not exist. 

How about the song he sings about gun violence? Yeah, he talks about that. He’s saying that we need to protect each other from the pain and suffering that comes from careless, violent acts. Why, in 2017, is this still an issue that people cannot comprehend. If you want to have a gun, fine. But don’t be a fucking moron with it. Don’t wake up one morning and decide to kill someone. Is this that hard to figure out? And before you say that he’s talking about gun violence towards people of color, I urge you to educate yourself. Watch the video, hell I’ll even provide it for you, and notice the name Christina Grimmie painted over some graffiti. If you still don’t know who Christina Grimmie is, learn from Google. Or allow me to sum it up. Christina Grimmie was a young, aspiring artist. She started her career on YouTube, the same place Mr. Hall found his, and she found herself on the Voice, then found herself singing at her own concerts. If you noticed in my small summary of her the word was, congratulations. I said was because she was murdered. Why? Because someone with a fucking gun got a little trigger happy and couldn’t leave his weapon at home.

Let’s explore his song “Dumb”. This song has to be my favorite. He’s talking about artists flipping music left and right, with no heart in their work, and they make millions. He tried to be recognized for his talent, and because he is “made of burlap” people expect to hear rap from him. He also takes a glorious jab at women being less paid. In one song, he’s picking apart everything that is ignorant and outdated, and calling it what it really is, dumb. 

Why in the hell is all of this shit still a problem? Why do we sit by, quietly watching while hate is pumped into us. Why?! 

During one of the songs, “Expensive” I noticed something. Drag queens are walking down a runway, looking glamourus as all hell, and some are bigger than size zero. I started thinking that the standards society set for women may be just straight people being dicks. Now hear me out. Models are expected to be skinny, perfect, essentially a walking Barbie doll. But women come in all shapes and sizes, so why don’t models? I keep hearing “bigger women can model too” but the women aren’t that big! It’s still an issue of size! Now with drag queens? Oh honey, in the “Expensive” video, there are queens of all sizes, each looking phenomenal, and I realized that I was looking up to the wrong “women”. Why in the hell would I blindly worship a woman who counts calories, willing stays the size of stick knowing young girls are looking up to them? No baby, the drag queens are the true idols here. They know their beauty and they flaunt the hell out of it. Yes mama, that is who inspires me. So the question I have, why, in 2017 are will still allowing companies to market products on women the width of a number two pencil? Why should these companies be allowed to make strong, beautiful, intelligent women feel like they are worthless because they aren’t fitting into the cookie cutter beauty? Nah, fuck that. 

Why, why why? I don’t have the answers, and when I think I get close to a break through, everything explodes in my face. I don’t understand anything when it comes to why things are still an issue. I’m raising one boy to respect women are all sizes, to know women are the same as men, and to respect everyone, no matter how high or low they are in life. I’m also helping my boyfriend raise a daughter to know that she isn’t expected to stay at home and cook while her man brings home the bacon. She doesn’t need to be toothpick thin to be beautiful, and she uses her brain more than her looks in life. But what are we supposed to tell them when they ask us why? 

“Mommy, why are people saying women should stay in the kitchen?” “Courtie, why can’t my best friend feel safe coming out to us?” “Mom, why can’t a black man feel safe walking down the road?” “Courtie, why does a woman have to be so careful at a party, why can’t she have a good time and boys leave her alone?” 

What do I tell them? If you are a person who has problems with women, LGBTQ+, people of color, bigger women, or anything that doesn’t fucking involve you, tell me what I should tell my children. Tell me what to say when my step daughter is getting ready for her first drink at 21, and she is spending three days beforehand learning self defence with her father, only to come to me who teaches her to hold on to her drink. To make sure she is at a safe place, that she’s in a group, that of she feels like something is off to find an out. Tell me what to tell my son that is being taught by bigots and racists that it’s okay to hate people of different races or religion. Tell my son why he got beat up for standing up for his gay friend. Hell tell my son how much of a piece of shit his bisexual mother is, I’m sure that will go over real well. 

Tell me why this is still an issue. 

Tell me why we can’t fucking mind our own business and let others be happy. 

It’s 2017 for crying out loud. It’s time to put your nose back on your own face, and stop putting it in other people’s business. 

(Videos will be added later, once I get my laptop up to par once more.)

End rant. 

Things we all need to hear 

To those who desire more, I will join you in your fight. You should never be afraid of an outcome.

For those afraid to ask, I will stand by you and be your voice. I will be your voice until one day you project your thoughts as though your mouth is a megaphone. 

To those that are tired, the fight is almost over. You are strong, but if your strength is hiding, I will move the boulders for you. 

For those who feel alone, look around you. I will be standing by your side. Your tears may sting your cheeks now, but know that I shed tears for you as well. 

To those who have tried and were shot down, I will be your mob. I will really around you and fight for another chance. Your bravery will not go unnoticed. 

For those who feel like they are nothing to anyone, you are everything to me. Your smile is the reason I fight every day. 

To those who need someone, look no further. I am here. I will sing through the night, shade you from the blinding sunlight, but only if you ask me to. I will listen with open ears about the things that others shut you down about. 

Please don’t forget, I am here. 

Heaven or Bust

When I was younger, my father took me to church. While he sat upstairs with the other adults, I was downstairs with the youth group. The only thing I can really remember about Sunday school is that I asked a lot of hard hitting questions that the teachers really couldn’t answer, which made me start to think that this church thing wasn’t for me. The church I went to was rather small, and it seemed that everybody wanted to know your business outside of church. It didn’t help that I was from a small town, and that this was normal. I remember asking a lot of questions, much like adulthood I was a curious child. If there wasn’t evidence, I was less likely to believe it.

At the beginning of every Sunday school session, a video was always played. One song was the go-to:
“Jesus loves the little children ………. – red and yellow, black and white…..” being the curious child I was, I immediately raised my hand.
“Does everybody have the same God as us? Like everybody in the world prays to the same God as me?” I had to be nine or ten at this time, but the look I got from my teacher began feeding my doubts.
“Of course! Didn’t you hear the song? God created all of the children, and expects them to sing his praises to other people, people who may have strayed from Him.”

This reply, of course, got the wheels in my mind turning. Strayed away? How can someone stray away from God? What makes people decide to stray away? If God created all the children, why do certain people believe in other things? I needed answers! I didn’t know at the time, but the questioning made me a problem.

I recall coming home from school one Wednesday, and my step mother told me that I need to go to church with her that night. I choked up, not wanting to go. “But why?” I managed to choke out.

According to her, I was straying from Jesus. I later learned that the Sunday school teacher was concerned with my constant barrage of questions about religion. I learned at a young age, long before the teenage years, that adults don’t like to have to explain something like religion. You blindly follow, because that’s just what we do.

After a couple months, the church as a whole learned why we never seemed to expand our small church. Our pastor was skimming from the collection tray, using the money for himself. My mind went spiraling with questions again. If he is the voice of God for our church, why did he do it? The answer was always “he strayed from God”.

I have to give major props to my dad. He asked my step mom why she made me go to church, if all I did was question. “Why force her? Let her choose on her own,” I heard him tell her, and her reply was her famous exasperated scoff. In the end, I didn’t have to go to church anymore. When the rest of the family would leave the house, I would jump on the computer and turn to the one place that would always answer my questions without trying to derail my thought process – the internet. Over the course of a month I learned that not everyone prays to the same God as me. There are people that believe in many deities, and some people that didn’t believe in anything. My mind was singing with this newfound information, and I just had to know more.

There came one Sunday where my stepmom wasn’t feeling well, and nobody went to church. Instead of diving into the internet search, I launched the encyclopedia we had on our computer and started looking up other religions. Buddhism, Paganism, Catholicism, the list went on! There were so many religions, and I was swimming with knowledge. I remember that night at dinner, I was bursting at the seams, ready to share the information with my family. My dad listened intently, happy that his daughter was finally getting answers. When he walked away, my step mother scolded me for believing the lies. From that day forward she watched what I did on the computer.

I didn’t understand what was going on. Not everybody believed in the same God…not everybody was willing to follow something so blindly. I resented religion with every fiber of my being, and specifically mine for lying to me, for never answering my questions. I couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to be curious.

Now that I have a child, I swore to myself that if ever he wanted to go to church, that was his decision.  I wouldn’t force him to go like my stepmom did with me. If he has questions about other religions, we will approach those as they come. Because I know how his mother was. His mother was curious, and naturally he will be too.

Update

Good morning people of the internet! I’m currently on my last day off for this week and decided to go back and read some of my old posts, granted there aren’t very many, and I noticed a pattern. 

On the later posts, I noticed I’m not my chipper and happy self. I’d be lying if I said that I was okay, just moody. Over the past month or so I’ve been pulling away from things that make me happy, and kind of falling into my own little bubble of sadness and self depreciation. Things happen sometimes, and I figured instead of posting more little posts that are basically just me complaining, I’d not post until I could find myself again, and go back to being happy. 

Boy was that a tough journey. It took a lot of spoken word poetry, watching gamers play some amazing games on YouTube, and self talks to get me to where I am now. I don’t ever want that feeling of sadness to come creeping up again. The feeling of being sad all the time with no indication as to why you are sad is just monsterous. 

I can’t explain why it happens, nobody really can. Sure scientists and psychologists will say it’s the makeup of the mind, but nobody can explain why the mind does what it does. 

I’m pulling away from my real intent on this post. My real intent was to a) apologize for the depressing posts b) apologize for the lack of posts and c) to let anyone reading this know that no matter what you are dealing with, it isn’t permanent. Eventually everything will be okay. You just have to hold on tight. 

That’s all for now! My posts may not be daily, semi daily, or whatever I decided, because I want these to be true and genuine. So ill be posting more often, but without a set schedule! Have an amazing day! 

Reset?

wp-1489577295481.jpg

Found this gem on Facebook, thank you to whoever posted this for the post inspiration. 

If you were given the opportunity to reset your life, would you do it? This is a question I get asked a lot. I have many questions, but never the answer. Do I get to remember everything I’ve learned so far? Will I get to right my wrongs and still have a decent outcome in life? I guess now is the time to start thinking of the answer.

There are a few things in my life that I’m not proud of. I’m not proud of giving my all to people who didn’t give a damn if I was there or not, I’m not proud of quitting school when I was younger, and I’m certainly not proud of how I handle the stresses of everyday life. But would I really reset? This reminds me of a line from another great Spoken Word poet, Neil Hilborn, from his poem “The Future”. He says “I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map, but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave”. Resetting your life is essentially killing the old you to make a new you, right? Or maybe that’s just my morbid thinking. Maybe this is why I love slam poetry, it makes the morbid thoughts of mine seem normal. Let’s get back to the main topic, shall we?

If I were to ever reset my life, how far would it take me back? Would I get to pick the age where my life started sliding into fuck town, or would it be an automatic reset of life in general? Would I get to choose my gender? That would be nice, not being a woman, but then I’d never have my son or the man who loves me today. But I’d be paid more and treated less ignorant than I currently am. Then again, I’d never be able to show emotion as a man without being told to “man up”, which leads me to another poet, and his “ten responses to the phrase man up”. The problem is, like Neil said, my life is a show that isn’t bad enough for me to leave. Despite how much I bitch and complain about my life, it’s never that bad. I don’t even think it’s that bad, at least the normal part of me. There is always one part that wants more. But what more could I have? Most people would kill for the job I have, or at least the pay. I have a very loving and accepting boyfriend who takes each and every break down in strides. You see, he isn’t used to someone like me, someone who can go from happy and content to sad and morbid in just a matter of days. He isn’t used to someone who’s mind thinks that everything will be fine, just as soon as you blow all of your money on things you don’t need. He now understands why I am so persistent on making sure all of the bills are paid, because if there is ever a moment I cannot control the constant nagging of my mind to do the dumbest shit, at least I’ll know we are set for that month. You see, he has dated normal girls before me. Now these girls danced dangerously over the line of ignorant and selfish, but they were normal none the less. Now that’s something I’d kill for – normality.

How many people do you know can’t go to a funeral of someone they don’t know? Well, if you came to this post not knowing anyone, you will leave knowing that I can’t. That’s right. Hypersensitivity is one of the WORST  things ever. I remember getting a call from my friend, begging me to come to another friend’s funeral, someone I had never met. She needed moral support, and more importantly a designated driver. I got ready, picked her up, and made the quiet drive to the funeral home. It took five minutes of being in the room, and I was whisked away by my own emotions. Tears streamed down my  face, my chest tightened, I felt like it was my best friend that died. Needless to say, my friend got upset. She couldn’t understand that I, being in the same room as roughly fifty distraught people was enough to send me over the edge.  That is a moment I would love to reset.

I struggle with my makeup, making sure it looks perfect. My sister sits next to me, talking me through each step. She smiles as I complete each step correctly, and she explains where I messed up. By the time I am finished, she is beaming. It was just a small amount of time spent with her, but I treasure it forever. Don’t take this away, Reset.

Or the time I came to my boyfriend now, when we first met, and told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I wasn’t ready for someone to treat me right, because at the time, I didn’t know I was worth being treated right. Hell let’s be honest, there’s still moments I don’t think I need to be treated right. But there’s something so special about someone who wakes up at 2:00 am when he should be sleeping to roll over and hug me tightly, no words spoken for a long time because he knows that all I need is to be held. He does this because he knows I can’t hold myself together, so once again he needs to be my glue. I wish I could tell him I get better. I wish I could tell him that this is the last time he needs to piece me back together after I have slowly destroyed myself from the inside out. This is a moment I wish I could reset.

My boyfriend and our children are preparing to head to the lake, and even though I can’t deal with cold water, I go with them. I haven’t smiled this much in a long time. Our children are the best behaved kids in the water, and we are still so much in love, much like the first time we met. Our fingers laced with our children’s, we floated there together, as if we were all slowly floating into space, dancing among the stars. I would not change this for the world.

My son comes home, throwing his backpack to the floor with such a high amount of sass that I am taken aback. I’ve noticed a pattern, this only happens on days that I have to leave before dinner is finished to go to work. He is angry at me, but I hope that one day he will understand, but until then he holds his anger inside. He learned this from me. He bites his tongue to drive the tears back to the deep well inside, but that well is about to overflow. He is only seven, but he is already learning how to numb himself. Part of me wants to pick up the phone and call work, telling them that I can’t come in because my son needs me, but they wouldn’t understand. I’d have a point against me, one less point to use when absolutely needed, and one day less that I may be able to pay the bills. Please let me reset.

I am standing on stage in my graduation cap and gown. My mother, father, boyfriend, son, sister, aunts, and uncle are silently holding their breath. This is a moment we all have waited for this moment. The announcer slowly says my name and I glide to the small black X located center stage. I hold my breath as the two people I’m standing in the middle of hand me my diploma. I finally did it. There are cheers from my family and I am shaking, fighting the happy tears. This is a moment to remember forever.

My father and I bond over a cup of coffee after he takes my child to the bus stop. We talk about life, or listen to The Beatles, or bake, or just sit in silence. I remember a time when I looked at him and said that I wanted to live with my mom, because I didn’t like the woman he married. I remember watching his eyes flash and pain replace them. I am not proud of myself. This man taught me how to be happy with what I have, how to love people for how they are, and because I didn’t like his current wife I am abandoning him. Perhaps that is why I’m afraid to start my own life, because I don’t want him to feel abandoned again. Please reset!

As you can tell, life is a mixture of happy and sad times. But for the life of me, I can’t find any reason to press the button. Resetting my life would mean killing every moment that has made me who I am. In some cases, resetting seems like a great idea, removing the extra stress on those I love. But they love me, and they would help lift the metaphoric boulder on my shoulders that I seem to feel that I need to carry. Resetting isn’t an option, moving forward is. And as Neil said: “I saw the future, I did. And in it…I was alive.” My future will not involve a reset button, because my memories and lessons need to be kept alive.

Enjoy “The Future” – my ultimate go to spoken word poem.

Thus Far

Over the last month, I have noticed that I haven’t been feeling right. My mind is nothing but a storm cloud, threatening to strike when I need a moment to be happy. I have tried imagining myself in what others refer to as “happy place”, but even there the storm cloud hovers, bringing with it vengeance and anger. Even my happy place isn’t safe from the demons of depression. Yes, I’ll come out and say it: I suffer a terrible concoction of Bi Polar Disorder, Generalized Anxiety, and Severe Depression. This unwanted combination is trying at times, since the depression and anxiety like to team together and make my life a living hell. Meanwhile, the Bi Polar disorder is screaming in my head “WE AREN’T HAPPY, GO BUY THINGS AND DO STUPID SHIT THAT WILL ULTIMATELY RUIN YOUR LIFE, BUT HEY IT FELT GOOD AT THE TIME”.

I know your first thoughts, “go to therapy”. As much as I would love to, I work midnights and I don’t know of any therapists in my area that are open 24/7.
You’re probably thinking “What about medication?”. You see we have tried medication. It’s become apparent to me that whatever is going on upstairs, medications only aggravate it. No, that is not just another excuse to not get treated. I’ve tried many medications. Most made me shaky, made me not hungry to the point I lost a lot of weight, and some even made me suicidal. No thanks, not about that life again.

To those that are not judgmental, you’d probably like to know how I’ve gotten along with no help of medications. My friend, I’d like to know that as well. How in the world have I made it this far without crumbling to bits and giving up? I don’t even know. What I do know is that learning things about yourself is a wonderful thing.

The things I have learned thus far:
~Music from the time of The Beatles is essential if I am to get through whatever the upstairs decides to throw my way.
~If the sun is shining, there’s always something that Pig can capture to remind me that life is beautiful.
~I need to accept that people see good in me. The upstairs is what sees the bad.
~I don’t need to be perfect, in fact, my imperfections are kinda nifty.
~Positive is good, I need more of that.
~Arrows are somehow very empowering to me. Don’t ask me why, but when I see an arrow, I’m driven to do my best.
~Spoken word poetry is a gateway to happiness. I refuse to go one day without watching either Sarah Kay or Phil Kaye.

You see, I have dug into the depths of my mind to figure out who I really am. I am happily taken by an amazing man, I’m a mother to my two wonderful children, I’m a hard worker, and I’m a loving daughter. But on top of that, I’m a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I’m a woman, and if you dare tell me that God would be displeased with whatever I decide to do with my body, just know that I’m agnostic. Your threats of your supreme being do not scare me, because it is not my supreme being. I love and accept everyone that comes into my life for how they truly are, and if I get confused, I ask for more time to learn about things.

I used to have these dreams where I’d wake up and the world was dark. Stars would twinkle all around me, leaving no doubts that I was in space with my feet planted firmly on the ground. I’d spin as fast as I could, watching the stars slowly attach themselves to my body until I was dusted head to toe with twinkling lights. The stars replaced every inch of skin and soon, I began dancing. A mixture of Virgo and Libra, I formed a new constellation. The more I danced, the less fear I felt. I’d dance for years, sometimes centuries would pass. When I came back to earth, I was in my star skin. My family was beaming as they hugged me, telling me my inner beauty has finally reached the surface. There was no anger, no sadness, no second guessing. I finally became who I was intended to be.

I’ll get there one day, I just have to take one starlit step at a time.

 

As an added bonus, my favorite Spoken Word Poet performing my favorite poem:

SoCS – Project

Welcome! When I read the prompt for Saturday I decided why not try a poem? I hope you enjoy! This post is a part of SoCS~

The mirror shows a face

Of a girl I don’t remember

The makeup hides the flaws

That I know so well

My pale skin seems brighter

My thin lips are fuller

Yet I feel like an empty bucket

Once filled with emotions

I have gone numb lately

A feeling which I hate

Or do I enjoy it?

I haven’t taught myself yet

I have learned from many

The lessons of life

Yet I fail to learn

From my past

I am yearning for reality,

But it never comes.

I am an empty room,

When all the lights are low,

And all the music stops playing.

I am the unsettling silence.

I am but an empty notebook

Begging for the ideas to flow

Longing for a sense of wonder.

I am a picture with no color

I am a joke with no punchline

I am empty

I am an unfinished assignment

I will continue to be

An unfinished project.

Apologies for the spacing, mobile isn’t being too friendly today!

Coming out 

Many people will tell me that I’m not bisexual because I only date men. Others tell me that I’m just confused, and that I can’t be attracted to girls because again, I’ve only dated men. 

I came out when I was in high school. There was a small group of people I would sit at lunch with and I figured it would be okay to come out to them. I wore my black I love Lucy shirt and now that I think about it, it must have been best to keep everything to myself. Only one of the four girls were accepting. The others called me names, and even told me they didn’t feel comfortable around me. Feeling wounded and scared, I told them not to worry, none of them were my type. 

As the day dragged on, the word got out that I liked both guys and girls. I counted how many times I was called a dyke – fifteen. I figured it was best to just keep it from my parents for as long as I could. My friends didn’t accept me, so my parents certainly wouldn’t. I would have fake Christian values shoved down my throat, of which I decided to pass. 

The secret of myself held me down as if I were in a lake. My sexual preference was the mucky bottom that had gripped at my ankles and refused to release me. Each passing day of this secret being buried deep within me was another moment that I was losing air. I became depressed, and turned to the internet. Maybe I was confused? No, that couldn’t be it. I remember dating a girl at fourteen and remembered I felt more alive than when I dated a guy. I felt nor.al during those four short months. I smiled more, laughed often, I was truly happy. But she wasn’t. She left me for her ex girlfriend and I wondered if I would find a girl who did that to me again, or even a guy. I decided to lay low, take the awful names as they came, and just live with my secret. 

I don’t know what prompted me to tell my parents that I preferred both men and women, but I remember when it came out it wasn’t pleasant. I remember trying to tell them I wasn’t confused, and they still didn’t understand. 

Fast forwarding to 2014, I found myself in a gas station, paying for a pack of cigarettes and four gallons of gas when suddenly the cashier saw a pin I wore on my jacket. It was the gay pride rainbow, and the bi pride pink, blue, and purple. As I shuffled for the $15 in my wallet, I heard it. “It’s because of people like you that gays get no respect.” No respect? People like me? I asked him to repeat himself and when he did, my heart dropped to my stomach. “You people date both genders…You can’t be happy with just one. My partner and I get no respect because of people like you.People who are bisexual ruin things for gays? I threw the money at his face and stormed off. Doesn’t the B in LGBT mean anything, or was I told wrong? I sat in my car, hot angry tears soaking my face. No support from my family, my friends, and now even fellow members of the LGBT community were metaphorically shitting on me. Why was being bisexual such a bad thing? 

In 2017, I don’t care what people think of me. I had been written off as confused for far too long, to the point I was afraid to date who I wanted. I am now in a relationship with a man that I love very much. I still find women attractive, but I am loyal to my boyfriend, and I am in love with him. I don’t use my sexual orientation as an excuse to date many people, though I will not cut down someone who does. You see, we are responsible for our own happiness, and I failed to see that. I allowed other opinions to make me think that I was broken. I’m not broken, I’m unique. I will stand my ground and making sure that nobody feels like they are not normal, that they are broken. You are beautiful, no matter who you are attracted to.