Monthly Archives: June 2016

I’m coming out, I want the world to know. . .

. . . got to let it show. . .

So, I work in food service. My station is outside the kitchen, and I have to pass through multiple doorways every day. Now, when you do so, kitchen language (something every food service worker in America should know about) demands that you say “Coming out. . .going . . . {wherever. The location is not important; the communication is} ) so that everyone is safe. It’s a necessary thing. However, one day, my Chef heard me call out, “Coming out, going to ice” and had the interesting response of “I thought you’d already come out.”

I ignored him and kept walking.

Two Thursdays ago, we had a representative of the LGBT community sitting in the cafe, videos playing about what it’s like to not identify as the gender you physically represent; about what it’s like to find yourself attracted to people that society says you should not be attracted to; on his laptop as he explained to passersby why he was there. My chef chose the “They/Them” sticker, while I chose the “She/her”.

I was really confused.

I don’t know if he understood what he was partaking in. He presents as a purely hetero male, and one of limited exposure to the complexities of society, so his choice stuck with me. Had he chosen “He/Him”, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

I’m very attuned to bigotry and other forms of abuse; coming across something like this (someone behaving, in my perception, completely unlike what I’ve come to expect) unnerves me.

Then. . .




49 people lost their lives because they had the courage to “live their truth”.


If they weren’t living their lives to the fullest, they wouldn’t have been at Pulse. If they weren’t homosexual or bisexual, chances are, they wouldn’t have been at Pulse.


And so, they died.


Because someone else (perhaps closeted; perhaps completely hetero) decided that they deserved to.

For whatever reason soothed his own psyche.


Let’s let THAT sink in for a moment, shall we?


I’m bisexual and polyamorous. I’ve always felt that I had to hide those two aspects of myself in order to live safely. Turns out that I was probably right.


I really don’t like that.


Were I in Denmark, I wouldn’t have to worry about my sexuality potentially causing my death. . .


(I will follow this post with another later; this subject is too complex for one post)



Categories: Social Mores, writing | Leave a comment


One of the adjustments I’m still working on is having a social life again. I’ve been so isolated in the past couple years that I forgot that there are amazing people out there who can improve your life simply by existing. Of course, you have to meet them in order to know the caliber of person they are.

The job I have now is at a very large company, and though the clientele of our cafe is not a numerous as some of my former jobs, I have to say that I’ve found more good people in the last four months than I have in the previous two years.

“We’re like a family here.” The first time I heard that from my boss, I had to work to not roll my eyes. Now, I realize that she was right. Dysfunctional, yes. With members leaving and being replaced, but still, like a family. We have our own dynamic, our own culture that is unique to this particular location. We care when someone leaves. We care about those who stay. We are invested in each other, to one degree or another.

It really is a comfort.


Categories: writing | 1 Comment

Boom, Baby! I’m back! ;)

If I may quote the Emperor 😉

Sometimes, when you are used to being powerless, you can find yourself giving up.

Giving up on growing.

Giving up on healing.

Giving up on things that make you, . . . well, . . . you.

When that happens, finding your way back to a healthy place can be the hardest challenge you’ve ever faced. It doesn’t matter how old you are or what horrors you’ve faced; this can Trump (ha ha [not 😦    ] ) them all.

In order to survive, steps must be taken.

The first thing you have to do is identify what it is in your life that is causing you to behave in the ways that are making you unhappy. You have to identify when you gave up your power over yourself, and why you did it.

Then, you have to decide if you matter enough- to yourself- to take the necessary actions to put yourself back on a healthy path.

It’s hard.

Extremely, and sometimes, insurmountably. Sometimes, you just can’t fathom that you mean that much to anyone else; why should you matter that much to yourself?

I know.

It’s also soooo easy to sacrifice one’s self for others. To believe that they are more worthy of existence (and the best of it, by the way) than you are. But, my dear, in this instance, you are so, so wrong.

The truth is, you matter.

You matter to those who love you.

You matter to those whose lives you’ve touched, or will touch.

Most of all, you matter to you. . .

Or, if not, you totally should.

Let’s let that sink in, shall we?

Um, yep.

Letting it . . .


Now that that is over, let me clarify:

I’m not advocating selfish behavior that puts everyone else on earth beneath you on the priority scale; that’s just nasty. People like that make me cranky. 😦

There is no reason to accept abuse, no matter how old you are, nor who it comes from.

With that said, I reclaim what was mine: my writing. My love of cooking. My love of music. My confidence in the fact that I AM a good parent. My love of Life. My love of myself. My love of humanity.

-Good night; it’s late here. 🙂




Categories: writing | Leave a comment

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