I just graduated law school. That's right, I can officially call myself a lawyer.
I still have a long road ahead of me. There's bar prep and then taking that grueling two day long test, then waiting (way too long) for results, and then somewhere in there I have to hit the ground running to try and get a job.
It's all happening. It really is. These are the things I've been dreaming about and preparing for since I was fourteen years old.
Something else really, crazy big is happening, too.
This amazing, thoughtful, talented, generous, beautiful girl. And I am completely in love with her. I can see myself building a life with her someday. And it's been so amazing, this journey I've been on with her for the last few months. I don't think I have the words to describe just how much she means to me, but I'm gonna try.
Do you know all these cheesy rom-coms about people falling in love with their best friends after dating all the wrong people for so long? Yeah, this was nothing like that, and yet I'm dating my best friend nonetheless.
We knew each other from work. And by knew each other, I mean we had sat in the same room with a bunch of other interns a couple of times. We never even made eye contact and so (despite my awkward best efforts), we never did the stereotypical "I see you, too" queer person head nod thing.
I didn't know it then. I never would've guessed or imagined that that girl would change my life.
Like so many bored and slightly lonely people out there, I used Tinder off and on over the past year or so. Never too seriously. I talked to a handful of people and went on a couple of dates, but, back in February, I was literally only on there because I was bored. I wasn't looking to start anything, mostly because Tinder is a strange, strange universe full of shallowness, awkwardness, and weirdly amusing shenanigans. So I was bored. And, while I would sometimes take my time in reading people's profiles and looking at their pictures, that one day in early February, I was just in a particularly bored and antsy mood and I just swiped right on pretty much everyone for a couple of minutes. I would like to make up some sweet story about how I saw her picture and felt butterflies or something corny like that. But that wouldn't be true.
I once tried telling her this part of the story and she told me to just stop digging...
So, no, I don't have a specific memory of that one magical right swipe. But, man, am I glad I did swipe right.
She immediately recognized me (for reasons that are hers, not mine to tell) and messaged me with something along the lines of "yay for another lgbt intern at our work." Being the awkward idiot that I am, it took me two whole days of non-stop messaging and one completely fabulous date to realize that she wasn't just "networking" with me...
Yeah, I'm that much of an idiot.
So I kept seeing this girl, and she kept telling me how she likes to take things slowly and that we weren't going to label whatever this was. Even though I already knew I was falling for her, and falling hard, I told her I understood, and that was fine. I didn't want to scare this amazing girl away.
Thankfully, she actually sucks at taking things slowly.
Within basically a half a month of that first fateful Tinder message, we were "official." And, let me tell you, as I dated this girl and got to know so many amazing things about her, I not only fell in love with her, but she became my best friend. I can tell her anything and everything and I feel so incredibly comfortable around her.
I'm not someone who makes friends easily. When I do become close with someone, it's usually fairly instantaneous. There are two other people in my life who I have instantaneously clicked with. And when I click with someone like that, I immediately know that they are going to mean something to me for the rest of my life.
So, yeah, there's this feeling I get when I meet someone new and I just "know." It's always been like that with her. Maybe not from day one, but definitely since we put labels on things.
She's let me express parts of myself that I've kept hidden for a very long time. She helps me bring out my inner little kid. She might even one day see my hyper side. She challenges certain thoughts I've resigned myself to and encourages me to have faith in myself, despite my issues and scars.
She lets me love her and do my best to protect her, even when I know that's not something that comes easily to her.
There are parts of parts of my life that I've learned to compartmentalize. I do this because of certain priorities that I've chosen to have in my life.
This post is about growing up. And part of growing up is realizing when you have to speak up, when to confront situations that aren't healthy. And part of growing up is realizing when you have to change some priorities in your life.
I've mentioned my family a lot on this blog. My family, specifically my parents, and I have been through a lot together. They've stood by my side through twenty years of school, through countless doctors appointments and random, seemingly inexplicable medical issues, and through unspeakable physical pain. My mom, through so much of that, has been equal parts my compassionate companion and emotional punching bag. I'm not proud to admit that last part. I think I've tried to apologize for that, but here's the thing about my mom: she has the wisdom to realize that that wasn't me, and that I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it. So she took it in stride. And never left my side (even when I thought I wanted her to). My dad has always been my rock, the voice of reason, and the one who can always calm me down.
My parents and I also carry around some major baggage in our relationship. Throughout my life growing up, but especially in high school, I felt that my parents would not truly love and accept me if they knew what I really thought, how I really wanted to act and speak. So I hid myself away and became increasingly bitter and angry and depressed. I eventually became suicidal, and blamed my parents. I'm not rehashing this to try and refocus blame or even to explain any of it away. From my perspective, that's our history. And it took me a very long time to get to a point where I could accept the fact that they do, in fact, love me unconditionally.
Whether or not they accept me, truly, accept me, is still a work in progress, especially since I came out.
In fact, I know that they don't accept me. My dad told me soon after I came out that if and when I start dating someone, he will never invite my girlfriend into his home because to do so would be to display "approval" over our relationship.
That hurt. It hurt so much (and still hurts so much) that I shut down and stopped talking, really talking to my parents again, to a certain extent.
I love my parents so incredibly much. They have been there for me through an incredible amount. And I know that they love me. I also know that they do want what's best for me. But the problem is that their version of what is "best" for me is nowhere near my life.
In fact, there's a giant fucking chasm between the two, and I don't know if anything will ever be able to close that gap.
I've been dealing with accepting and processing all of this for a couple years now. And I honestly thought I was ok with the status quo. With the "don't ask, don't tell" life we had set up.
Part of growing up is facing some harsh truths.
This isn't okay. Any semblance of a good relationship my parents and I have is a farce until they are at least willing to accept the fact that this is the life their daughter is pursuing, it makes her happy, and nothing is going to change that.
More to the point, the status quo is hurting my parents, it's hurting me, and it's hurting my girlfriend.
There are so many little things that are different now that hurt so much. When my two oldest brothers met and started dating their now-wives, my parents were engaged and wanted to meet and get to know these amazing women that my brothers would one day build lives with. When we had family dinners or even went up to Canada to visit extended family, the women my brothers were seeing were welcomed with open arms. When my grandpa died a few years back, my sisters-in-law weren't able to make it, but they were more than welcome to attend the memorial service. And anytime there was a graduation in the family, my brothers' girlfriends-turned-fiances-turned-wives were expected to attend, if they could.
I graduated from law school yesterday and my girlfriend wasn't there to celebrate with me. Not because she didn't want to. She would've loved to be there. But I made the choice to not force an incredibly awkward meeting between this amazing girl that I'm in love with and my parents, the two rocks who have stood by me through it all.
I shouldn't have to make that choice. But I did. And it sucked. For me. For my girlfriend. For my family. Because they're missing out, too. They're missing out on this huge journey that I'm embarking on, and they're missing out on this amazing girl that I am hopelessly in love with.
They know so little about her. They don't know about her adorable obsession with pigs (or the fact that she wants to teach their grandson how to oink properly). They don't know how she caught on to Dutch Blitz (my family's card game obsession) faster than anyone else I've ever seen try and learn. They've never played Dutch Blitz with her. They don't know about the cat we rescued together or our amazing bowling skills (actually, Grandpa Scheerer would likely be disappointed by our horrible bowling skills if he were still here, but still...)
They don't know how happy she makes me. With just a look, just a smile, just a simple #luff text message. It's hard for me to be happy. I lived so much of my life wallowing in the dark, hidden places. I felt a measure of this happiness when I first came out. But like I said then, that was more about finding peace (at last). I have that here, too. But I also have happiness.
But then I go home. And I can't let my heart gush over with all the things I want to tell my mom about this amazing girl. I can't tell my girlfriend, "my dad really isn't intimidating or scary at all, I swear!" I can't get excited for the first time my dad cracks one of his incredibly dry and hilarious jokes around her and she realizes there's nothing to be afraid of.
I also spent so much of my life nervous about my dad finally revealing that he actually is in the CIA when I finally start seriously seeing someone and he breaks out the interrogation tactics. Because I'm his little girl. And he wants to protect me from ever being hurt.
That's what I don't get. I don't understand how someone who has always vowed to do everything in his power to protect me would let his religious-based, moral objection to the gender of my significant other stop him from being my dad, stop him from wanting to protect me. I definitely don't get how he could let himself hurt me like this.
And I know I have utterly failed at communicating any of this to my parents. But every time I tried to even mention the tiniest morsel, like saying what we were doing that weekend or telling them something funny that happened, both my parents just shut down, stare straight ahead, and then change the subject.
I want so badly for my parents to understand and accept that this isn't about morality, it's not about religion, it's not about their convictions. It's about real life people who are hurting. It's about their daughter who dreads coming home half the time because she knows that the moment she walks in the door, that happiness she felt all weekend is going to evaporate the moment no one asks about this girl that has stolen her heart.
I love this girl, and I want to build a life with her. I want my parents to be a part of that life, I really do. But part of growing up is re-evaluating your priorities. I would never cut my parents out of my life. That's not in any way what I'm saying. But there will come times, there will be life events, seasonal celebrations, and just everyday family gatherings where, if they don't start engaging in and, yes, accepting, this part of my life, they will stop being my top priority.
I don't want to have to make that choice. And I know that I shouldn't have to. I know we need to have a conversation. I also know that my parents need to meet this girl. That meeting her doesn't mean that they've changed their moral or religious views. It just means that they love and accept me and want me to be happy. And that they want to be engaged in my life. But mostly, it involves them making the choice to stop hurting me and hurting us.
