associated in random thought

open all night.

whew. what a night. before helen went to bed at 10, she joked, "you'll probably be going to bed when i get up at 4." she was right. i was still awake at 4, and woke her up and made her tea. we smoked cigarettes on the porch before the sun came up, and the clouds were moving fast across the sky. "what a weird morning" we sighed.

so why was i up until 8 am this morning? i blame it on marlei. okay, not really. but after writing her bloggy birthday card, i found myself back in time, immersed in my own archives. i have not read back in a long time. i started at the beginning: 2002, as i was about to leave my cushy job with every intention to wake up as a real writer in ireland. and then i came back, and it was 2003, and my world was turned upside down. i came out then, but not out loud on the blog, for a bazillion different reasons. i was afraid: of losing friends and jobs and readers. i was afraid of condemnation via internet trolls. i was afraid to be a publicly lesbian christian writer girl. (god help me if someone googled those exact words.)

last night, i encountered myself again in that dualistic place, trying desperately to find the balance between my increasingly public sexuality and my suffering faith. i wept in memory of that nomansland, and how lost i felt. on the blog, i wrestled to maintain a hopeful voice. i left my struggles ambiguous and universal. however, in my journals, my voice was wavering, and my words were more about anger and fear and hopelessness. that duality nearly killed me. and in order to save myself, i attempted to sew together the disconnected parts: the hope with the hopelessness. the fear with the bravery.

"the struggle is not worth your life," i was once told by a wise redhead. and it's true. there is freedom in telling the truth and letting go of the fear that you will be disowned for it. there is still estrangement, to be sure, but so much more room to stretch and yawn, and say good morning to myself. here i am. still in the thick of that cloud of unknowing, but it's not all-consuming anymore.

i am living the truth in love. i am sussing out the truth from the rhetoric. and so i stayed up all night, reading my own story. four years later, i clearly see that i have been on a path. a real and righteous path. i couldn't see then. i was an israelite spending unnecessary time in the desert, i thought. but now i see that it's simply a labyrinth i'm walking. into the center and back out again.

i told amber earlier today that i am so relieved to see the wall of storm behind me. it's still rumbling in the background, but this big one has passed. and i'm still standing.

as i re-enter the world of academia and constant writing, i want to remember the story of a girl trying to be who she is in a world that says she could never be whole. or holy. it should not be so. it should not be so excruciating. i am committed to casting my little stones into the pond. i've been collecting them for years. and i've got them in my pockets. i'm readying.

i'm awake.