I respectfully do not care.

There are times when my emotions still feel like a hijacking. Today, seeing pictures and videos that Tina posted of the girls (my nieces) at the beach brought up grief that felt insurmountable for a time in the car. Then I remembered, that's what emotions do. They swell and recede, just like the ocean. Just like that salty expanse, I sometimes lose my bearings while I'm thrashed around beneath the surface, and a moment feels like forever while I'm waiting to get my next breath. When I am inside it, it feels exactly like being controlled by something much bigger, stronger, and more powerful than I'll ever be. My instincts are both to fight it and to succumb. I watch my attempts to right my position, kicking for the surface at times and also giving in and allowing the wave to just take me where it will. Both are necessary for survival.  There are moments when her absence is so profound, I can't breathe. I do think being physically removed from my family has allowed me

Charlie and I discussed my upcoming aya retreat. I don't know what my expectations are. I would like to come out of it with the pieces of myself that are lost. Shit Handler is in charge of keeping watch along that line. Fear also does its part to keep me back. I don't think I've ever talked with anyone about what lies beyond the wall/line/border/whatever you want to call it that my psyche keeps so heavily guarded. The best metaphor I have is a black hole. The fear is that if you get too close, it will suck you and everything else in, and you will never get out. It's like when I started treatment and the goal was to get me to let my guard down/allow vulnerability, and the fear was "if I start crying, I'll never stop." I suppose a similar fear exists with whatever is inside the void here. I'll never get out. It will control me and my life. The stupid thing is, it already controls me and my life. In my very avoidance of looking at it head-on, it is playin

It's June 1st. I've thought for a long while about how to acknowledge this day. Rainbows and platitudes are not how this month came to be recognized by the U.S, and eventually worldwide, as Pride month. This began in an environment that doesn't look so different from the one we're in today. 54 years later. I'll give you a Cliff's Notes history lesson here. In the 1950s and 60s, police raids on mafia-owned gay bars were commonplace. The FBI kept a list of known homosexuals, the locations they frequented, and lists of their friends. The U.S. Post Office kept a record of addresses where "material pertaining to homosexuality" was mailed. Routine police raids were a means to arrest gay men and women, shut down the businesses they frequented, and expose them in local newspapers. The goal was to rid cities of gay people completely.  On June 28, 1969 a police raid at the Stonewall Inn (the only gay bar in NY that allowed men to dance together) pushed our commu