There’s two sides to every story

 As Chris picked up the wheel barrow from his family and the garden tools he used as a child I cried.

With shame. And I felt really sad. 

His father gave those to us. To work in the garden. 

My dear friend Chris. They didn’t know I couldn’t have sex. That I was in the closet and sad about it. 

I really wanted a family to feel like I fit in a family. 

I am crying for the life they thought we had. 

I am crying for Chris.

I am crying because after 8 years this house is so much work. 

I am crying because Chris’s parents still want us to be married. 

I am crying because that is painful. 

Letting go of this house is also letting g go if the dreams Chris’s family had for us.

I am shamed again feeling the pain of my choices even though I’m free to have them. With compassion and tact I move forward today. 

This is my best friend Chris we have a child together. 

What looked like piles of frustrating shit is also very important to him & his family from the Midwest. 

I tried my best, but could not be 100% genuine as  the beautiful married women in my family growing g up.

It looked so idyllic. They had full time house keepers, gardeners, Nannie’s, full calendars and they were straight. They weren’t potters wearing overalls. 

I wanted to be them. I wanted to go to old navy, but a skirt and forget all my problems. Problems being who I am.

What was shunned about me. Who everyone wanted was not me.

The beam of wood above my bed like a log cabin, I drifted. Only caring for my guys. I bought this house for them, for family gatherings, for family, for fame nights and togetherness. To get peace I thought I could go vegan. I could be straight if…. Year after year a plan.

But a genuine life is worth living. I had to take a stand. 

Chris gave me a hug in the garden as I cried. 

“Tell your dad I’m sorry”