Married? Yes. Monogamous? Yes. (sigh)

First up in my open forum on what do you want to know about this bisexual (because lord knows I can’t speak for all of them!), question one:

How can a person who is bisexual be married (and monogamous)?

In thinking about how I would try and answer the question, I thought I’d would try and come up with an analogous question. The best I could come up with was well put by my sweetie:

How can it be that a dog can sniff another dogs butt, without wanting to have sex with it?

Sound silly? Yep, I think so too.

I guess I should start at my definition of bisexual. For me it means that I am able to be in a sexual relationship with a person regardless of their gender identity or genitalia–male, female, genderqueer, trans–it all works for me.

This ability however, does not equal necessity. Or even desire. It does not even mean that because I can, I should. It only means I am able. Gender, sexual organs that accompany a person, are not a factor in who I find attractive–sexually or otherwise.

Marriage. Now there is a tricky concept eh? I mean, it seems lately that the whole definition is up for discussion. So what kind of marriage are we talking here, Brittney and K Fed? Perhaps a marriage of convenience (don’t for one second kid yourselves to think this doesn’t happen anymore)? Are we talking civil marriage or a religious ceremony? For me, I prefer the “traditional” understanding of two people, in love, committed to being in a lifelong partnership of laughter, sickness, joys, hardships, triumphs and struggles. I honor and prefer the practice of monogamy; I am a one on one kind of gal. What I find ridiculous is that had my lifelong partner been a man, instead of a woman, my marriage would be recognized by the US government, and all the strings attached—from taxes to hospital visits. But I suppose that is another post altogether.

Now let me say this as clearly as I can: being bisexual (in and of itself) does not affect ones ability to be in a monogamous relationship. One (being bisexual) just is, it is not a choice or preference or request. It just is. The other (monogamy) is about a choice and commitment, fidelity and honoring an agreement. I would contend that anyone who wants to choose monogamy, can. I did not ask, choose or request to have the capacity to love—sexually and emotionally—anyone. I do however, consider it a gift and blessing.

Next up “Do men (people) call themselves bi when they can’t (yet) admit they’re gay?”

Intro to Queerying: Your questions, my responses

I am not confused. I am not going through a phase. I am not experimenting. I am not half gay and half straight. I am not greedy. I am not lying. I do not need to make my mind up. I am not just trying to be cool. I am certain. I'm not saying everyone is but I Am Bisexual.

So, the questions are in. The responses will start next post (tomorrow). I hope to keep posting, without the really awkward delays (sorry about that), at least twice a week. There I said it out loud. Twice a week.

So here is the line up to come.

1. How can a bi could be married (and monogamous)?
2. Do men call themselves bi when they can’t (yet) admit they’re gay?
3. As identifying bisexual, do you feel more accepted in the straight world or gay world? Why?
4. Do you have two partners? Or simply attracted to both sexes?…I have always found it a bit confusing when someone married identifies themselves as bisexual. Is it just attraction or 2 actual relationships going on?
5. Isn’t bi sort of a redundant label when you’re married and, ideally, settled with one person for the rest of your life?

If there are more–please do ask in the comments. Nothing is offensive (MB), so just shoot. And this is for those of you who might have missed what Dan posted in the comments last post. Thank you Dan. Really well said.

We have names and we have labels. I use my name so that people will know who to talk to, whose books to read, who to send the checks to, but thse are pretty much material things. As to labels, we use those to identify with a larger group, those who are not me but who have the same feelings, share the same experience, and seek many of the same things.

By identifying with others who share these similarities, we are neither alone nor abandoned. We identify ourselves with labels because we want and need not only support from others, but to give support to others as well.

Your last line hits the nail on the head for me, its why I started this space. Beautifully put.

open forum

The other day sweetie and I were out with friends. We happened upon a conversation that has got me to thinking, and its been a while since I’ve written (and I miss it, and you) so thanks for indulging me in my wondering out loud with you.

So we were with these really smart, quite savvy, quite supremely awesome friends when one asks something like: look, I have a fair amount of understanding with the GLB part of the LGBT community, but I’m sort of stuck and feeling like I need some help with the Ts—can I ask you about it?

“Well of course you can” we said, although not being a Ts we suggested that perhaps they could talk to the T persons directly, especially if they knew that you were not asking to be an ass, and were really wanting to help or understand better. It might be a really kind thing to do actually.

You know what they say about bisexuals ...

So, it got me to thinking; as an openly bisexual person who sees a lot of horrible stereotypes out there, I wonder if you, dear friends, readers, random people searching the interwebs, have any questions about what it means (for me, I can’t speak for all bi people) to be bisexual? What kind of stereotypes to you see about bisexual folks? Do you wonder how I can still be bi and be married? Is being bi about sex mostly or is it something else? Do you wonder why not just settle on being one or the other—why be both? What kind of questions do you have lurking and just have not had a place to ask them?

So, its open forum time. Leave me a comment, send me a note or email. Ask me what you have been just dying to know about. No holds barred (unless you are an asshole or are abusive, I don’t respond well to those requests) ask away, anything. As the questions come in, I’ll post. And if you don’t ask, I’ll probably make something up so I don’t have to look like a lonely jerk (read, please ask).

Black Friday and Keeping Those Kettles in the Red

Keeping the kettles in the red on Black Friday and the rest of 2009.

Bing-a Bing-a Bing-a Bing-a Bing-a Bing-a Bing.

Today, its Thanksgiving. Tomorrow is the all important US Holiday, Black Friday. As you walk into your mega stores and shopping malls, you’ll hear the binga binga of those Salvation Army Bell Ringers. You can hear it all the way back in Row Z level Florida at the mall, really. Its loud and its ring hangs in the air with just a twinge of guilt and an all too familiar sound that Christmas is near. So—I want to talk to you about these little quarters, cents, dimes and dollars that you stuff in there, looking sweetly at the kind “homeless looking” man or young adorable child who is bing bing binging the bell and blessing and thanking you as you enter your shopping destination. (to spend oodles and oodles, like $450 BILLION, on presents… another topic, another post, anyway…)

Do you know what the Salvation Army has to say about homosexuality? Well, you should. Here I’ll give it to you right here.

Homosexuality

The Salvation Army holds a positive view of human sexuality. Where a man and a woman love each other, sexual intimacy is understood as a gift of God to be enjoyed within the context of heterosexual marriage. However, in the Christian view, sexual intimacy is not essential to a healthy, full, and rich life. Apart from marriage, the scriptural standard is celibacy.
Sexual attraction to the same sex is a matter of profound complexity. Whatever the causes may be, attempts to deny its reality or to marginalize those of a same-sex orientation have not been helpful. The Salvation Army does not consider same-sex orientation blameworthy in itself. Homosexual conduct, like heterosexual conduct, requires individual responsibility and must be guided by the light of scriptural teaching.

Scripture forbids sexual intimacy between members of the same sex. The Salvation Army believes, therefore, that Christians whose sexual orientation is primarily or exclusively same-sex are called upon to embrace celibacy as a way of life. There is no scriptural support for same-sex unions as equal to, or as an alternative to, heterosexual marriage.

Likewise, there is no scriptural support for demeaning or mistreating anyone for reason of his or her sexual orientation. The Salvation Army opposes any such abuse.

In keeping with these convictions, the services of The Salvation Army are available to all who qualify, without regard to sexual orientation. The fellowship of Salvation Army worship is open to all sincere seekers of faith in Christ, and membership in The Salvation Army church body is open to all who confess Christ as Savior and who accept and abide by The Salvation Army’s doctrine and discipline.

Scriptures: Genesis 2:23-24; Leviticus 18:22; Mark 2:16-17; Romans 1:26-27; Romans 5:8; I Corinthians 6:9-11; I Corinthians 13; Galatians 6:1-2; I Thessalonians 4:1-8; I Thessalonians 5:14-15; I Timothy 1:15-16; Jude 7

So queer friends and allys—how does that make YOU feel? Me, well those dimes and dollars I know they add up. And the thing is, I’d like to see them add up for organizations who are doing direct care, who DON’T feel this way. And there are plenty of them. So—I am asking you to join me this year in a little science experiment.

1. This year I will carry around with me a letter, and every time I hear the bell ring, I will walk proudly to it, and deposit this letter, instead of my money. This is my letter. Feel free to rip it off.

Dear Salvation Army:

The holidays are upon us and that means there you are ringing your bells outside of almost every place I shop. This year however, I will be placing this note in your kettle instead of my money—no matter how small or large the donation—to remind you that your position on homosexuality does not line up with my understanding of the God of love and inclusion. Because your understanding of scripture forbids me, I cannot in good conscience support your causes with my money.

The money I would have placed in your kettle will go to another organization like yours, who does not hold the same position statement as you do.

Faithfully, in Christ,

[Your Name], [Your City]

2. I’ll take whatever I had to give from my purse or the change in my pocket and I will put it into an envelope. On Monday December 28th I will count the coins, dollars and lint bits, write a check, and send it to a local direct service charity. I am thinking of Open Arms MN, District 202, or ________. (still not sure)

So, if you are so inclined, join me. Tell me how it goes, how does it feel?

Spread the idea if you like, as the saying goes, the more the merrier.

(I have made an easily printable download of the letter—Salvation Army Kettle Note 2009—for you to use and share!)

my sweetie’s gift to me

This poem:

Three Years: the “leather” anniversary

To my one and only beloved, my anam cara, my best friend and sweet sweet butter brickle:

Today marks three years of minutes, moments, seconds and star struck nights that we have been in this thing we call marriage. Its funny really, its been 3 years and yet its been like a whole series of “week ones” one right after another, still new, still giddy with doe eyes and flittery longing looks across rooms or grocery shopping isles. 3 years time, strung together, its hard to believe how many beads we have strung on this life long rosary already. Time, it does fly. It flies when you are in love. And I am. It feels like just yesterday we were donning our kilts, nervously pinning broaches and trying to remember to take mental snapshots all day long.

They say (OH they) that after 3 years of marriage, the gift that says I love you all over again, is leather. It seems like a strange gift, killing another life to say I love you. But I have tried to move further out than that, to wonder what it is about skin—all worn and pounded, tough and pliable—that could say something about love. Here’s what I got.

After three years, you my dear, are thoroughly under my skin. I have lived a thousand lives before you even met me, I have had a lot of hurt and heartache, many tears, laughter, failures and foibles. Loss and grief are no strangers to this body of mine. I have some tough skin—leathery—around my body, around my heart. And then there is you–tending to it, to me, working it, loving it, loving me. There is not a single day where I do not have your heart against mine. You and I now share DNA, life, at the micro and macro level—your love has permeated my skin.

Its funny, and its been said a thousand other times before, so I almost hesitate in offering it. But I will, adding my voice to the billions before us, like a profession in G-d. I here profess, each day I love you more, desire you more, my heart grows bigger, the smile I wear looks more like yours. You are my light, my best friend. I never thought that actually really and truly each day I could love you more, but I do. Your jokes are always funny to me. Your smile, your kindness, your willingness to love all of me—its astonishing, whack-a-doo indeed.

You call me out on my shit, and turn around and call my shit pretty, beautiful even. Who can do something like that? You. And G-d.

You know, I know that G-d exists, because I hear her small soft voice all tangled up in your whispers and strokes across my forehead after a hard day. So, today, before G-d and all these people, I reaffirm my vow to you.

In the name of God and before this congregation, I, Rachel, take you Karen, as my beloved, my partner, my own; to honor and cherish you; to share with you in life’s joys and triumphs, and to stand with you in times of grief and misfortune. I will be truthful in all things and strive with you to create a home filled with reverence and hospitality. I will love you all the days of my life. This is my solemn vow.

On Justifying My Existence (in 140 characters or less)

The other day, a person I follow who also follows me on twitter asked me a question. It read:

How do you justify your existence? Some find this question insulting & others feel they do not have to.

Wow. You should have seen the look on my face. It was like she dug deep and pushed that one button, you know the one, of anger, hurt, frustration, invisibility, proud to be all the labels I have attached to myself but how DARE you attack and toss them back at me. You know that button, I know you do. I flared up and shot back some thing like “I do NOT have to justify my existence to you or anyone else for that matter! WTF.”

In my depression work right now, I have been struck with this one story. It is about a woman, Elena, she’s depressed too. She grew up in another country and does not speak english well. She has had a difficult time making friends since she has moved. One day Elena went for a walk with her husband. On their walk, they happened to stop past a friends home, a friend who she knew from the old country, and that friend had invited another friend over for tea. Immediately (instead of being happy to see her friend) Elena felt left out and hurt. To make matters worse, she confronted her friend about feeling left out, and on the way home got angry with her husband for not understanding why she was so upset.

Eeeerrrttt. (car braking sound goes here) Wait a minute. Hold up. Do you see what happened?

She sadly, is a lot like me, or at least the me I am trying to shake off. When I hear a question like the one above, I could not hear the goodness in it. I only heard the accusations, suspicion and attack of who I am in it. I only heard the underbelly of this persons question–something like “who do you think you are QUEER, and how will you account for yourself (as you stand before the Lord Almighty on that judgement day, yada yada yada…)?” You know what she said in reply to my harsh tone? It was so kind really. She said “Sorry you feel insulted. I do hope your day is fabulous!” and “I find reasons to justify my continuation through inspiring and motivating others.” and “My apologies for tapping you on the shoulder standing in my positive skin.” and “Its amazing to hear others thoughts and how they view life.”

I want to stand in my positive skin. I long for it really. But you know what I think might keep dragging me down, back, under the gigantic undertow of this whole process? Two things really.

I know you are but what am I?

One: Haters. Shit I wish I didn’t see them, hear them, or (sometimes at least try and) listen to them. But I do. Its like a tempting war on words, and I have a silver tongue and quick wit and smart mind that knows exactly what scripture texts people are going to lob across the divide at me, and I am ready for the return fire. Ick. War? I am a person who deeply believes in peace. And love. And justice. And here I am, caught in the trenches of the “I am Christian and queer, and yes this is not an oxymoron” war. I want to call a truce, but these people, the more they call me sin, the louder and stronger I want to shout back “HEY you! I know you are but what am I, (expletive)?” And also, “I love you cause Jesus makes me.”

Two: Me. I am standing in my own way. Its time to shift. Downshift perhaps a gear or two.

My beloved stands next to me, and she reminds me its hard to be your own speed bump. Ride with me friends, I could use a backseat driver right about now.

A year later, the day after

A year ago, I wrote about how I felt the day after Vote Day. A year later, we as a LGBT community have much to celebrate, and much to still be raising our fists, shaking wildly, for.

I woke up and checked the Maine race first. Heartbreak before even rolling out of bed—a practice I most certainly do not recommend. News trickled in here and there, Washington, then a wonderful piece of news from my friends in Kalamazoo, MI—with a very cool ad to go along with it. And as the day rolled on, so did the comments, the rhetoric, the ups and downs. I engaged in some conversation, and should have damn well stayed out of others. I should know better—too close to the heart, to my LIFE, to my love–to be impartial or kind perhaps.

Friends I ask you: why are we putting civil rights, human rights, to a vote? Why can’t the state issue civil licenses for domestic partnerships, and churches bless unions—call them marriages or whatever you will—for whomever they choose? This is not about morality. This is about basic rights of people—all people. My relationship, my love, will not adversely affect your tax life, your sex life, your family.

There was much to capture out on the interwebs today–much posted over on facebook, but I wanted to capture some of it here. So here are some noteable quotes:

From my beautiful friend Naomi:

“Can you imagine where we would be if we had let people vote on civil rights and women’s rights? These are human rights, right, Right?”

A new friend Susanne, as an idea on how to move forward:

In order to achieve equality, some clergy refuse to act as agents of the state – something I am definitely in favor of – keeping the legal agreement at the courthouse where it belongs and the blessing in the church….where it belongs.

My friend Rex offers this while considering Maine, homophobia, and misogony.

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Archbishop Desmond Tutu

The very wise and always gracious Wendy says:

Take heart from Dante, “the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in times of great moral crisis maintain their neutrality”

The amazing poet and friend, Mark Fleury reminds me of some beautiful words:

As John Lennon said: “The world is just a little town. Everybody’s trying to put us down.”

And just a quick and very special thank you to Makeesha and Chris for engaging the conversation and being so damn smart.

Twitterverse:

“These are not issues, these are our LIVES we’re fighting for.” Harvey Milk

and From @jaybakker

“In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

And from Makeesha’s blog: timely thought from Wendell Berry via David Hayward

it is unfortunate for gays and the rest of us that the government has been invited to make a judgment on people’s private sexual behavior. It isn’t the government’s business, so long as the behavior is not abusive to others. The government should support “domestic partnerships” which gives the same legal protections to bachelor brothers or widowed sisters or friends or partners living together as if married. Justice for all is the government’s business (Berry, The Way of Ignorance, p. 145)

And perhaps a wee harsh but what else can I expect from my dear friend MJT? I dig it.

What about you–what did you hear today that gave you hope, rocked your world, needs preserving for posterity sake?

Christianity 21 RoundUp: a few thoughts from backstage

Last week in an unlikely place of beauty—Edina, MN, known for its wealth and whiteness—a whole bunch of people gathered to listen, contribute and participate in Christianity 21. This is my reflection on that time. A word/warning–I was a volunteer. I missed out on sessions I really longed to hear like Debbie Blue, Makeesha Fisher, and Lisa Domke. I bounced in and out. I spent time seeing and participating in stuff around, and not necessarily IN Christianity 21.

So, like so many others from the event, it has taken me quite a few days to process what this feeling is that I am sitting in, left with, hanging on to, watching unfold. What I can say unequivocally is that I feel deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to participate. It was a bit like watching history get made. Here are my standouts:

1. Mike Croghan and Amy Moffitt. Mike has been a bloggy friend for a long time, and asked if my beloved and I would be able to host him and his really awesome friend. I had been holding the space in our home open for just such an ask (could insert a stewardship lesson here, but I will save that for another time). For 5 days my home was filled with laughter, tears, kindness, intelligence, and goodness. I got some serious hang time with people who have forever helped me be a better person. Christianity 21, like the Great Emergence event last December, has first and foremost been about new, deeper, unexpected relationships. I met a lot of people at #c21, and am left with this reminder of the gifts that lie ahead when we open our selves, our homes, our lives to one another.
2. I was a concierge, which means I was assigned to a few presenters to help them get from place to place, and made sure that their needs were being met (like, do you have enough food, water? Do you need anything that I can get for you? Etc.). I was assigned to my friends Seth Donovan and Nadia Bolz-Weber, as well as offering rides and other duties as needed to 11 other folks. I can’t imagine a time where I will be someone up there, presenting on something, sounding all smart and innovative. And I am ok with that. But what a joy to be out here, doing what I DO do best: hospitality and helping. I love that I got to be a part of something that for me flattened the hierarchy and said that what each of us brought was important–vital even–to the conversation. No, I wasn’t able to be in each session, but I was invited to take part, and I did that, and it feels like a little glimpse into what Kingdom work can be about. In listening to others, it seems like everyone felt like they got to do this, in their own way. And isn’t that a beautiful thing? participation in deep, true, authentic, transforming ways.
3. I don’t want to gush and gush about JoPa, but in order to really get at the heart of this thing and I have to gush a little bit. Seth Donovan said “i watched two straight, white men spend (and disrupt) their privilege.  they had access to venues, connections to people, support from sponsors, budgets to watch, and reputations to maintain, and they organized an event that supported the leadership and voices of folks who have been asked to take the backseat in the church.  and asked other folks who have similar privilege to show up for it.  and we were transformed.” So right on. They dreamed up an event that may not have made economic sense, but for sure made Kingdom sense. They could have done the same old same old and given the “big names” top billing, more time, more _____. But they didn’t, they held to this crazy ass economy of G-d, that there was an abundance in “unlikely” places, we sat at the feet of each other, all of us. In the Kingdom sometimes the last are first and the first ARE last, right? And the thing is, the rewards of this may not even be realized anytime soon. Brave. Humbitious. Beautiful. Well done, JoPa.
4. Queermergent. I had the privilege of spending time with a new and good friend, @mojojules aka The Wonderer. After Jenell Paris‘ presentation, in which she posed the question “Is homosexuality a sin?” there was some chitter chatter on the tweets, some butts (like mine) shifting in the pews and a real desire to continue the conversation about being queer and Christian. So–again, like at the Great Emergence in Memphis–we made it happen. Jules offered us a place and time to meet. So, late on Saturday, about 15 (??) of us gathered in the lobby of the hotel and spent time. We asked questions and came out about where we were in our own journeys of the faith and queer wondering. The conversation was honest, rich, and challenging at times. I was reminded again why having a queer voice and presence in the 21st century church is so vital. We are a gift, we are a part of the Body of Christ, we are an other to some, a friend and family member to so many.
5. I am torn; I want to name names, gush and go on about people. I want to give props to people, not for what they said but for who they are. You each warm my heart and spoke to me, whether we met and spoke, or in many cases, not. I connected with some, others I just observed awkwardly. I don’t want to name names, so as to not forget anyone. So if you were there, whether we connected or not, you are on my list. Thank you, all of you. And a special wink and smile for you who I call friend. You shaped me most of all. I look forward to next time.

I will be purchasing the C21 Multi-Media Pack. I look forward not only to hearing more, listening more closely, but to looking for (like JoPa did) those voices that are shaping the 21st Century church. Perhaps one of those voices, people, ideas, things is right here in my possession and its dying to be shared. I feel invited. I feel connected. I am so grateful.

Check out the #C21 hashtag on twitter for other blog posts, links to resources, and some killer quotes and people. So very grateful. Thank you (you know who you are, yes you. Thank you. And you, and you and you.)

Guest Posting

So here it is, the guest post I mentioned. Please do make time to go visit my friend Becky at her wonderful virtual office at http://www.livingsexuality.com. She is doing a whole series on periods, on being and becoming a woman. A number of really beautiful stories are told, and I have loved participating and reading.

Tuesday’s Underpants

I was one of the lucky ones. My mom sat me down before the big red day of surprise came, intent to give me the big talk about my body and how it was going to be changing soon. 

It was a summer day, not much earlier than my 9th birthday. I don’t know if she sent away to Good Housekeeping or if it was from the dollar store, or what, but she brought home this now-you-are-becoming-a-woman-kit, filled with: a 1974 booklet complete with drawings of women and their bodies (that looked nothing like mine), stories about what an amazing and scary time this is, a belted and belt-less maxi-pad, a tampon, instructions on how to use these items, and some really smelly bubble gum lip goo from Bonnie Bell (not sure what the inclusion of this last item was about).

She sat me down, looked at me in a sort of I-am-SO-sorry mashed up with oh-how-precious-is-my-little-girl-woman, and told me about how my body was going to change. She said that it was going to grow things like hair in funny places, breasts, and I would smell funny. She told me not to worry, that all women go through it, I was not alone. She would teach me how to shave (which is a whole other horror story) and be there to answer my questions. Then she sent me to my room to with my new menses kit, to read and “play” with my new womanly stuff.

Now something you should know about me is that I am not an instructions reading kind of gal, never have been. I am a very kinetic and visual learner, tell me a story or show me the movie and I am all good. So there I was, in my room, unwrapping each item, sniffing them, plunging the tampon in and out of its little rocket like contraption, and well, exploring what this whole new world was supposed to be like. I tried on the belted maxi pad and thought it was just a glorified diaper that made me look like I had pooped in my day of the week underpants. Next up, (duh duh duh) the beltless maxi.

I pulled the paper strip back, exposing the gluey adhesive and, again not reading the fine print, just stuck it on the place that made the most sense–my little barely old enough patch of fuzz, down there. Well, let me tell you, it did not feel good, or right. As a matter of fact it sort of pinched a bit. “Ow. Ow ow ow,” I thought. I tried to pull it back, slowly like a tenderly placed fat band-aid. That was not working. Tears, streaming down my face I started to feel panic setting in. The pouty lip quiver, the mom question through the door “Is everything alright?” and “ahhhhhhhh, sob sob sob, no mom, it isn’t!” I ran out into the living room, with guests, and my sister who loves to retell this story, and my mom–roaring in laughter. This was my first memory of the journey with Aunt Flo. Pain, a total lack of natural ability to understand what goes where and how, and worst of all–humiliation, big time.

So it stands to reason that my little red friend has been more like my gigantic crimson nemesis, nearly my whole life. Until last week.

About a month ago, visiting with my doctor after having endured the cold wand of the vaginal ultrasound, she gave me the big news. What I had experienced: the pain, the cramps, the moods, the whole icky smelly, G-d I really don’t understand why I have to endure this each and every month thing, was because my uterus had grown 5 sizable fibroids–one the size of a large orange. She said I needed surgery to either remove these fibroids or remove the whole kit and kaboodle–the uterus–in short the H word: hysterectomy. I feel like I had been waiting to hear this word since the first time the red stuff had shown up on my cute clean underpants.

Two things happened to me that day. One, I was given permission to not feel like I was crazy, and to know, and not doubt anymore, that there was indeed something wrong down there and I wasn’t just another whiney woman who just needs to up her advil intake, suck it up, and move on. No. Something was and has been wrong, seemingly for quite a while. And two, I could let it go. Get it removed. But for me this is much more than letting my uterus go. This is letting go of a lifetime of pain, sexual abuse, memories and relationships gone awry.

Of course I am also letting go of ever being a biological mother. There is somewhere maybe, some place that will grieve this, but as far back as I can remember I have never felt this pull. There are plenty of ways to be a mother in this world. Not having the equipment to get the job done myself, is ok by me. I am letting go of the stories people told me, I am letting go of the stories I let myself believe that were not true. I am letting go of a good deal of what has been a part of me my whole life. Just because I never loved it or appreciated it, doesn’t mean I am not grieving it. I am, with glee in my heart, letting go.

I don’t know what the next phase of life looks like, but I think I’ma go and get me a new set of day-of-the-week underpants, not bleed through them ever again, and see what comes.