30

Note: I’m never quite sure where these posts will go when I start them, and this one definitely had a mind of its own. I meant to write something like “hey, look at the last ten years of my life” and ended up with this. That’s what I get for writing it at 2 AM. Enjoy…

So yesterday was my 30th birthday, which is a decent enough reason to post something after a while. I’ve had draft posts during that time, and I think the topics are pretty interesting, but the more complicated the topic, the harder it is to write something satisfying. I don’t want to keep repeating myself here, so when my life doesn’t have something strange or troubling happening I don’t have a bunch of new material to work with. And my life’s been going well for some time now. But birthdays are useful motivation and people can forgive some rambling in cases like this.

My typical birthday celebrations for the last few+ years have included things like getting some good food, taking the day off work, and treating myself to some gift like my first Blu-ray player or (this year) a new car. Because I’ve never been someone to throw a party, I celebrate alone, except for whatever online messages trickle in. And I’m totally okay with that, although I did learn my lesson not to inform the restaurant staff it’s my birthday, because a public “happy birthday” song is 100x more awkward when there’s no one else at the table with you.

This year was coincidentally different, because the Seattle Men’s Chorus I sing in has a yearly “retreat” weekend before the holiday concerts, which happened to line up with my birthday this time. So I got to spend the last two days surrounded by more than a hundred queer queens, complete with hot tub “bear soup” and all the innuendo you could ever imagine. I had told a few people about my birthday, but when the clock hit midnight as I listened to karaoke In a crowded hotel room only one other person knew, and I shook my head “no” when he asked if I wanted everyone to serenade me.

Because that’s how my head works. A month or so ago, the first time I told anyone in the choir that retreat was on my birthday, I thought of saying “I will resist any attempts to celebrate, but you are allowed to make a fuss anyway.” But in the moment when someone actually offered to “make a fuss” I turned it down, exactly as I had predicted.

I don’t like asking for things. I don’t want to tell people what I want when that thing is something sad or uncomfortable. I don’t ask for attention even when I crave validation. And I sometimes actively rebuff the efforts of people who are genuinely trying to help. One of the guys I was talking to tried to encourage me to be more outgoing in seeking dates, and I ended up shutting down the conversation by telling him “advice like that is nice but doesn’t actually help me. I’m working at my own pace. You don’t understand how hard it is for me.” I did a similar thing the day before when I was trying to talk about my recent weight loss efforts and someone else, in a perfect example of body positivity and affirmation, tried to both tell me I shouldn’t worry about whether or not I had a potbelly and give me good advice about using measurements besides body weight since muscle is heavier than fat. Both wonderful and accurate statements, but I felt rebellious and slightly annoyed because “I already know all that. I’ve thought about this for much longer than this conversation. If you’d just let me finish my story you’d realize I’m not approaching this lightly.”

These are some of the topics that cut me deep without people realizing it. They’re the parts of me I want to change, but it’s extremely important that I accomplish the change myself. Because I need to convince myself it’s possible to accomplish goals like this, that I’m able to take care of myself and be someone I’m proud of.

I spent so much of my life defending my soul from possible threats that I couldn’t really even see myself. For a very long time it wasn’t uncommon for me to muse about getting injured so that someone would take care of me. I wanted to people to know I wasn’t happy, but I couldn’t tell them. More than once I described it by saying I was struggling to keep my head above the water as I was carried down the rapids. I was reacting to the world and trying to hold myself together; I wasn’t in control of myself. I had no anchor to hold me steady, no one to turn to for help.

Then things started to turn around in the last few years, after consciously discovering and accepting my sexuality and learning to stand up for myself. My stopped-up emotions began to flow again. The sense of constant oppression receded. I began to honestly evaluate my desires and beliefs. I had found something to hold on to, a sense of who I am that gave me solid ground for the first time since the confidence of childhood.

But now I have to deal with the consequences of my poor attempts at emotional self-defense. I have not taken care of my health. I have not taken care of my home. I have not taken care of my heart. Now that my head is out of the water I can see where I am and where I want to go.

I’m separated from everyone. I have no close emotional bonds. So I’m trying to reach out and meet new people. I’m looking for dates and friends. I’m looking for people to pick up this scared puppy that pretends to be a lone wolf. Most of the time I’m okay being alone, but sometimes it aches.

I’m messy and lazy. My house is embarrassingly dirty, so much that I don’t even show my parents what it actually looks like if I can help it. I have no motivation to keep it clean, because I have no one to bring home and see it. So I’m telling myself to start small, to prioritize a few things at a time and work my way up. I’m reminding myself how good it feels to have a clean home. Most of the time I shrug it off, but sometimes I feel guilty.

I neglect my own health. I haven’t been to the dentist in years, I don’t do laundry nearly as often as I should, and I weigh a fair deal more than I need to. So I’m tracking my weight, and setting goals and reminders for important things. I think more people will like me if I like the way I look. Most of the time I tell myself I look great as I am, but sometimes I feel ugly.

I’m all these positive and negatives at the same time, swirling around and flowing like the tides.

Each of these pieces alone seems pretty simple, even to myself when I’m writing it. “If you’re having trouble finding motivation, come up with rewards for completing each task.” “Look for activities and hobbies you enjoy, and you’ll be able to meet new people with similar interests.” But that’s what makes it hard to explain.

Do I want to be saved? Of course! But I want to save myself. Because it needs to stick. It needs to come from me, because that’s the only way I’ll believe I’m doing better. That’s the only way I’ll be happy with the results.

So however strange it sounds, whether you believe me or not, I’m okay. I’m lonely and scared and shy and paranoid, but I’m okay. I’m working at my own pace, which might take a while. I’m making decisions you might not understand or agree with, but they’re my own, and that makes all the difference.

If you want to help, just listen. Just be here. Because that’s what I’m missing the most, the silent comforting presence of someone who knows my darkness and is okay with it.