I was born in Mississippi to biological parents who cared for me materially, but were not warm or loving. I am an only child. Sad, yet true story, when I was 12, while on vacation, my parents left me at a gas station in Arizona. I had gone to the bathroom and they did not notice I was not in the backseat when they pulled out. Did I mention I am an ONLY child? Who knew supervising a single child at a gas station bathroom in the middle of the desert was so difficult?
I share this, not to paint them in a negative light, but frequent episodes of oversights like this affected me as I was maturing. My parents are not “bad” people, just self-absorbed people who felt a child was an accessory and not a gift from God. Their love was always performance based. By that, I mean as long as I acted the way they wanted or expected me to act they showed love to me. Any deviation caused shunning, loud yelling and all in all a crappy day. We are estranged and have been for years. I do not see that changing. Oddly, we are not estranged for the reason most people suspect … we are estranged because “I am the most disappointing and ungrateful daughter ever born.” Ironically the elephant in the room was never discussed … but more on that later.
You might wonder why I refer to them as my biological parents. Well, first it is accurate. Secondly, it is because God sent AMAZING loving families into my life who adopted me through compassion into their families. They were love when no one else would show up and stepped up to the plate and did incredible things for my heart, my mind and my soul. During those periods, every family became my chosen family and I treasure each of them to this day. What a difference a willing heart can make.
In the late 1960’s when time came for me to enter school, my parents enrolled me in a Catholic elementary school. I stayed in Catholic school through the fourth grade. During these four years I would attend school Monday through Friday and on Sunday I would be dropped off to attend Catechism, then attend the Sunday service at the local Methodist church with my mother. Needless to say my religious training was multifaceted and often confusing.
After four years of dissention, my mother finally insisted, if my father was not going to a practicing Catholic, she was not going to allow me to continue going to Catholic school. My father decided he did not wish to regularly attend Catholic mass; subsequently, in the fifth grade I transferred to a local private school. I wanted to go to the public school with my neighborhood friends, but my parents gave a resounding “NO”. I did not understand their decision and was sad I was not allowed to attend school with my friends. To this day my mother will say she supported the decision because the private school was safer during a time of civil unrest and racial tension and my father will say it is because the education was better in a private school. Both, in their own vernacular, were speaking “code” for a school with only Caucasian students was superior.
I accepted Jesus Christ into my heart and life when I was 14 in 1977 at a Billy Graham crusade. I remember getting out of my seat and walking down those stadium steps to the football field. As a 14-year-old it seemed like a long walk to take alone. But I was decided. I have had many struggles in that relationship for many reasons, but finally have found an incredible peace in knowing and accepting I am loved just as I am.
I knew from the beginning, I was different. I knew I thought differently. I reacted differently. I saw the world through a dissimilar lens than most of the kids I knew. My perspective was unique as early as kindergarten. As time passed, I realized I had unusual heroes. My dreams and goals were atypical of those of my classmates. I came to realize I was a misfit in Mississippi, as if being from Mississippi was not liability enough.
As I entered junior high school, it became painfully, and I do mean painfully, aware to me that I was not in the least romantically attracted to boys. I had no desire to go to dances, or date, or be a cheerleader, or anything else the rest of the girls wanted to do. Consequently, I immersed myself in sports and found a world I loved and in which I excelled.
In high school I discovered I was romantically attracted to females. Yes, I am a lesbian (the elephant in the room). I was a pudgy female who was attracted to girls. I had zero fashion sense and was attending a Baptist high school. Not exactly the environment to blossom or question thoughts or feelings. Consequently, I did not … blossom or ask questions. During my high school years I was very fragmented. I made good grades, always making the honor roll … but I was not valedictorian material by a long shot. I was the classmate the cool kids wanted to sit next to on test days. Fortunately, my athletic ability provided a small arena of acceptance.
As each year passed, I learned to navigate and hide my fragmentation more effectively. I made myself fit into the norm. While I never had a boyfriend, beginning my sophomore year I had a date to each high school event, homecoming, prom, athletic banquets, etc. By my senior year I had camouflaged myself into a role I became comfortable playing. I was student body chaplain, most likely to succeed, class favorite, and most spiritual. I suspect the Baptists would have stripped me of the most spiritual label had they known I was a lesbian. Not an “active” lesbian, but a lesbian nonetheless.
I never consumed drugs. I rarely drank and never abused alcohol. I smoked cigarettes, from time to time but never became addicted. I stored my cigarettes in the freezer so they would not go stale. The last pack of cigarettes I purchased cost .55 cents and lasted over a month.
I graduated with honors and enrolled in a local junior college, where I obtained an Associate Degree. While in junior college, my life began to spin out of control. I was very active in a charismatic church, where in the height of the AIDS epidemic, often taught that gay and lesbian people were an abomination and irredeemable. I carried a full-time class load and worked part-time. I met myself coming and going. I was deeply conflicted about my sexuality, but strangely never doubted God loved me. Even in the midst of my confusion, it seemed inconsistent with the character of Jesus to damn me to hell for something over which I had no control. But I had become convinced, from the teaching I had heard, that being a gay or lesbian was a “thorn in the flesh”. An affliction to be endured and I was just thankful my thorn in the flesh was “invisible” as long as I kept it a secret.
With my life feeling like it was out of control, I desperately searched for something I could control. I was still slightly pudgy and thought I could stand to lose a few pounds. I could control what I put in my mouth, so I put all my energy into losing weight. I was exceedingly successful in this endeavor, so much so that I became anorexic. I was 5’7” and eventually weighted less than 100 pounds. I wore a size 5 pants, tucked my sweaters in and wore belts to keep my pants up. At my lowest point I would break out in hives when walking through a kitchen or smelling food cooking. My hair thinned, I stopped menstruating and my skin was dry and cracking. I remember laying out by a pool and pulling the top of the leg hole of my swimsuit and hooking it over my hip bones so I could get more sun.
I remember one year in the midst of this period, my parents gave me a digital scale and weight loss drink mix for Christmas. I named the scale the “magic machine” and was able to forego the grocery store for months. My parents never asked if I was sick. They never mentioned I might need to go to the doctor. The only conversation I remember about my significant weight loss was my biological father telling me he was proud of me for losing “all that fat”.
As I think back on this now, it was clearly insanity. But curiously and sadly at that time my life was less chaotic than it had ever been. This self-destructive behavior continued for several years.
After graduation from junior college I enrolled in a Presbyterian college. I majored in psychology and Christian education. I graduated on time, with honors. During my junior year I entered into my first relationship. It was a 10-year relationship with a straight woman. I remember her saying she was not a lesbian, but she was in love with me. We had a good relationship. In fact, if I were honest it was the healthiest relationship I had experienced up until that time. I liked having someone to love, to take care of, to dote on. It felt very normal to me. Very comforting.
When that relationship fell apart; I spent 5 years alone, praying and seeking God about being a lesbian. I wanted His thoughts on what a lesbian should do or be. Was I really an abomination? Did I really have a thorn in my flesh to be endured? I never prayed for God to make me straight, but I did pray “God help me be what YOU created me to be.” This period ended when I felt God say, “You are as I created you. You are not broken and you do not need to be fixed”.
So I began counseling with the hopes of finding fun in life again and putting the dysfunction behind me. Twenty-five years later I am finally able to stand up for myself, love myself and love others. I have also done a great deal of studying the Bible and discovered it says absolutely nothing about loving, same-sex relationships. It says plenty about incestuous relationships, sexual relationships with minors or sexual relationships based on societal or economic standings. But it says not one word about loving, same-sex relationships between consenting adults. The word homosexual did not appear in the Bible until 1946, and then as it is now, was sloppily interpretated. Further, homosexuality did not become a topic of debate in the church until the very late 70’s or early 80’s when the AIDS epidemic made it politically advantageous. Homosexuality, if viewed honestly, is a secondary theological issue. It is in the same boat as dancing, drinking, smoking, tattoos, divorce and remarriage, etc. Issues that separate denominations, but in no way separates a soul from God.
Between then and now I dated some wonderful women … and I dated some not so wonderful women. I dated some women because I did not want to be alone and I dated others because I genuinely cared for them. I dated a few men, testing the waters to see if I could make it work and I dated a few men to appear straight. I even dated a gay man and wondered if we could make some type of relationship work. As you can imagine, the answer to that was a definitive NO.
For the most part, I was searching for a mate whose demons played well with mine. Not that I was looking for a broken or flawed person. I was looking for a person who was not totally comfortable in their own skin and had processes to work through, because I had processes to work through. When all along I should have looked for someone who had the confidence in themselves and love for me to assist me in silencing my demons.
As time passed, a light bulb went off and I finally understood it was far better to be alone than to be with the wrong person. Within a year of making that decision, the perfect person for me walked into my life. She did not regularly need me … but she always wanted me. She found me to be sufficient within myself. She believed and still does believe in self-improvement, always becoming a better version of yourself. But she loved and accepted the current version of me without conditions. She was not demanding in any shape, form or fashion, except in her expectation for transparent and honest communication. She was careful and patient with my insecurities because she could see my tender heart. She helped me understand I deserved to be treated in a kind, humane and descent way and proceeded to treat me as such.
We dated for a year, then moved in together. At the time we moved in together it was illegal for us to get married. Within a year of same-sex couples being given legal marital rights, we got married. Two years later our marriage became legal in our home state. We have a really good life. It is not perfect, but our marriage is rock solid, we are committed and encourage each other to become better humans. Equally as important, we give each other room to stumble in the process of self-improvement. My family is the most important, sacred and cherished human relationship in the world to me. Somehow, I think that is finally as it should be.