Tag: Marriage

Writing the Truth in the Moment (and a link to my short film!)

I started keeping a journal when I was about 15 or 16 years old.  I embraced my writing at around 23.  Most of the work I’ve done has been self-reflective or inspired by what I have already experienced – ‘write what you know’.  Through this, I always thought of myself as fairly self-aware – able to point out my flaws and make fun, able to understand my inner workings.  This is much of the reason why coming out and coming to terms with my sexuality at 35 was such a jolt to my system – I thought I knew myself.

Looking back, I can see there were topics I shied away from.  For instance, I don’t have any written record of my feelings for the first woman I really fell for – even though I remember it so well.  I avoided.  I pushed it away – it was the kind of thing I couldn’t quite admit on paper.  Or maybe I didn’t want anyone to find out the deep truth.  I didn’t want evidence.  I am not sure.

I let those moments pass and carried forward with my ‘hetero life’, but the feelings stayed in the back of my head.  She stayed in the back of my head.  I couldn’t explain it, I couldn’t figure it out.  The simple answer was too hard to admit.

About 5 or 6 years ago, I started working on a feature film screenplay about a closeted gay woman stuck in a marriage – this later would become the first feature I would produce (currently in post production and in need of funding) titled “Writing Kim”.  Prior to producing the feature, I  wrote, co-produced and performed in a short film with similar themes titled It’s Not About Kate.  When I watch this film now, I can see in my writing that I was too afraid to set the central character free.  I wasn’t ready to go there personally, and I wasn’t ready to go there as a writer.  I knew my truth lingered under the surface, and that frightened me.

I look forward to writing something where my protagonist allows herself to be.  Where she is queer, and it’s no longer an internal struggle.  However, for many, not being out is the reality – and I think there is a place for these stories – there is a place for the truth in the present moment.

 

 

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Just over one year ago I said to a close friend
“Is that it?  Will I never get to be with a woman?”

I realize now that it was a belief in a label that kept me “straight” for all these years.  I was straight.  Never mind the fact that ninety percent of my sexual fantasies were about women.  Never mind the fact that I always knew I was different – I always knew I didn’t quite belong.

Sex and sexuality are not the same thing.  One can have sex with a toy.  One can have sex with themselves.  If there is drive, one can have sex with a person outside of their sexual orientation.

There are so many little details that make each of us up.  It is not necessary to justify all of our little quirks in order to fall into a pre-conceived category.  However, if one is an over-analyzer, it’s difficult to resist.

I have “come out” the other side since that moment last spring. Or more accurately, I am continuing to come out the other side.  I am myself in a way I have never before experienced.  I have a home.

 

 

white picket fence

Is there a scenario where this ends well?

 

I think I have been turned.  I have turned myself.

My imagination isn’t holding up so well anymore.

 

So what now?

How long do I wait and see?

I didn’t like that

I was pretending

I did not like that

I was lying

For love

For self preservation.

 

—

 

Art imitates life.

Art has blown the top off of life.

What is true.

The chicken or the egg.

 

—

 

I try to live for – or with integrity.

She lives with purpose

I don’t know if the means justifies the ends.

She is all about the end

She plays this game so well

I think she will win

Nice guys finish last.

—

 

“You have secrets”.  He said it in passing.  He said it in passing.  He said it in passing.  He said it as a challenge cloaked in a joke cloaked in “I don’t care” and hidden behind “What?  I didn’t say anything.”

–

I don’t trust her.  I maybe did once.  For a day or two.  When it felt like we were in it together.

–

Water is healing.  I am myself – whoever that is.

I am still angry.

I think he can tell.

But we aren’t good at talking.

Not about the real stuff, anyway.

 

—

It’s only been 5 days since I’ve seen her.

I think I was using her.

I think we were using eachother.

—

 

Her brown eyes invite me to a world I have only imagined.

But I cannot reach her through this white picket fence.

 

Is this for real

Perhaps the dramatic me never left the building

Perhaps the wild me was simply me

An animal can be tamed, but do they ever lose their instincts.

What kind of damage would I cause this time.

 

That heat has not lived inside me for so long.

—

There is ritual

There is tradition

There is the game

And there is the truth.

All the world is a stage.

Unravelling

 

It is and it isn’t.  It’s a loop hole.  It’s an exception.  Maybe.  It’s an excuse.  It’s an opportunity.  It’s a choice.  It’s a thing.

 

—

Maybe I should have just one glass of wine.  I went swimming.  He got high.  We are travelling in slightly different directions.

 

—

The smoke filled air

Creates a haze

Erasing the smell of her

 

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