A couple of days ago, I posted an entry that I wouldn’t refer to as coherent. In fact, it was a rant full of anxious thoughts and befuddled thinking as I continue to work through the early days of sobriety. I mentioned something in it, however, that still troubles me – mostly it’s troubling that it still troubles me. My sexuality, is one of the most basic things about me, I believe, but has created quite a stir in my life (just wait until I begin discussing God again).
Truthfully, I’m much more accepting of it now than I was a few years ago. Some of you that have followed me on my last blog, and even the blog previous to that, might remember the absolute torture I put myself through in coming to terms with my sexuality. I have gone back and forth on this idea that I am bisexual or that I am not bisexual and that I was reacting badly to things in my own life. Many of you have been absolutely supportive and encouraging. I have not had anyone one person say anything negative to me about it. There have been people I’ve talked to over the past few years that don’t condone this part of me, but they have said nothing negative or mean to me.
Acceptance is an issue, though, like it is with most alcoholics. And it’s a place in our mind that is tough to face. Working the program, going to meetings, speaking with a sponsor, and reading the Big Book it becomes readily obvious that alcoholics are encouraged to accept life on life’s terms. Relationships are the most difficult thing we do and there is no relationship more difficult than the one we have with ourselves.
Honestly, I don’t think I’m explaining this to anyone other than myself.
The last post I had, there were some comments that were really helpful, but there was one comment that really stood out in my mind. A friend here on WordPress referenced a certain sexual activity I mentioned and said, “I don’t think it makes me any more of a woman, and it doesn’t make you any less of a man”. That has a profound meaning for me for various reasons, but primarily because I have always thought of myself as being feminine in many ways. In fact, as some of you might remember from my last blog, I spent a lot of time discussing this aspect of myself. In fact, I thought I reconciled that part of myself, until my last post where I almost started beating myself up for feeling a certain way. I’m not sure what it all means or where it all comes from, but I have discussed gender expression before and I have finally reconciled that I don’t believe in more than two genders, but there are various ways to express oneself – I have done that before and have even mentioned Stephanie and Hilda.
I think, often times, I have this constant need for an explanation, a deeper understanding of myself. It’s almost like I somehow unlock the mysteries of the universe, if I somehow come up with a definition of myself that magically answers any and all questions no matter what. I think this is misleading, somehow, because it gives a false security that I’m somehow accepting myself by forcing a reason, forcing a definition and forcing an explanation down people’s throats (ironically enough, the topic that prompted this very post was my history of giving oral sex to guys) – namely my own throat. But what I believe I’m failing to grasp is that I’m not accepting it as it is – what if I am nothing more than what I am? What if I am nothing less than what I am?
What if I am just me?