A Distant Fire Burning Bright

I feel like I should be making a confession to my grandmother. I never worried much about her opinion of my religion (or most things, really, because, man could she be so critical) while she was with us. But I think of the person she was and the denomination she chose, and I can't help but think that her values weren't ever in line with the way churches of her denomination behaved. She was critical. She was that way I think because she had such crushing faith and pride in me. I didn't realize at the time that real love is being disappointed. When you really love someone, you believe the best of them. And no one can be the best, even their best self, all the time. But she was also so accepting, loving, welcoming, forgiving, empathetic, kind, nurturing, and tough as whale bone. I can't even get this far without tears streaming down my face. I wake up at night with her loss in my heart. I fall asleep praying. I think she'd love to know that.

Someone once said I was the most superstitious atheist he'd ever met. And I proclaimed that atheism loudly. But I had a gospel playlist and would quote scripture in times of moral or ethical dilemma. I grew up Church of Christ. I was not just washed in blood, I was steeped in it, drowning in it. We were in church three times a week.

My last glimmer of faith was when my father died. I began to think of God in an odd way. Either he hated me or he didn't exist and it was so much easier to accept the second. And before you get started, I know there are so many people who have had it so much worse than I have. I was lucky in so many ways. But I felt like God took my person. I felt like God left my Daddy's person here without him. We were each other's favorite. My greatest fear was that I'd disappoint him. And I'd read enough scripture to know that God is a jealous father. And maybe that's it; I loved my father more than I ever loved God. 

I began to hate the machine that took him from me too. That's not to say at all that I am not a Patriot. I love my country. I always supported soldiers and veterans. But I don't know how anyone in my generation who lost a parent the way that I did could possibly believe that war and patriotism are the same thing. I love warriors but I fucking hate war. Probably why I ended up over at G.I. Garage and cannot leave to save my whole life.

Even that was hard for too long. The one part of me ripping myself to shreds in my heart, with absolutely no outcome that would make me feel any better. And today, this struggle with who I am versus who I love. I don't understand. I kept thinking that they've pulled me back to the place I wanted to be. I move towards the center. I realized that good people are just as misguided and fucked up as the rest of us, just the opposite direction. I also learned that the best people, my people, can see different views and instead of becoming angry, become pensive. Even when we disagree. I'd hoped that I had done for them what they have done for me. And tonight, I feel like I've failed in that too.

I knew who I was at 13. Vanilla Sky came out and Penelope Cruz had this little mole and I realized that whoa, I like boys and I like girls. That girl makes me tingly. And to this day, warm skin and dark hair and something the opposite of myself makes me feel the same way. I will never not be in mad love with Salma Hayek. I mean...I like snakes because of her and take that anywhere you want. I would trade several organs to have been that brass pendant on her bikini. The shake in her hair, the power in the denial of her mouth. Tequila, surely. That's what I call a fucking show.

I'm angry at myself right now. I'm angry because people who look exactly like me are the reason I'm sitting here with my glass of wine and tears down my face. I heard a table talking about January 6th at dinner tonight and my whole nervous system reacted. And I tuned it all out. A table of older folks, six of them or so, drinking wine and having dinner. I was so afraid that they'd just be more of the same. And I'm tired. I am so fucking tired. Then I heard one woman say "I remember the date because that's when they attacked the Capital." And I breathed. The word "attacked" is all I needed. Because that's what it was. 

The truth is that I've felt very alone here this week. And I've tried so hard to hold on and be...what? Better. Good. But goddammit, I am exhausted. I feel oddly as if I've been hiding. The guys are quieter about specific attitudes. So strange that they don't want to talk about the things they are doing to harm the person who saved their little dream. And those aren't words of arrogance. They all tell me so. So how can they still make these choices that hurt me?

I'm just exhausted. I'm going to the Marine Corps Birthday celebration held by local veterans tomorrow. I'm wearing the color I look best in. Also seems to represent who I am. I had a manicure. The first one since the day before my engagement. He maybe telegraphed. I'm gonna make my hair extra large and put stars in it. I smashed my face. Yeah. Ugly ass bruise down my right cheek. And I can try to cover it up, or I can just let it be. They'll ask who did this to me so they can be angry about it and the funny thing is, they already voted their anger at the person who did this to me.

For the most part, they've had the decency not to rub it in. But I did hang up on someone I love tonight because I asked three times to change the subject and he blew past that boundary. Okay, but I don't have to sit here and take it anymore. And I won't. I am proud of myself for that. That started with my mom the day she called me a bitch on the phone in the grocery store on my birthday and I just calmly hung up on her. I do not have to take abuse from people who do not understand boundaries. I've learned so much and I am proud of myself.

I think that those boundaries are what keep me sane. I wasn't in 2016. I was rabid with anger. It poisoned me. It ruined me for years. I won't do that again. I won't sit and argue with strangers on the internet. I will continue to go out and do good and make the world a little better and count my starfish and count my boys.