Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

There are days when the sadness is so overwhelming, I have a difficult time even breathing. I don’t mean depression; I mean sadness and grief. I miss my mom! I miss my dad! I miss my family!

I want things to be the way they once were. I want to be that kid waking up at 5 in the morning to see what Santa left. He always knew just what I wanted: cowboys and Indians with a fort, a GI Joe, Johnny West and his horse, a saddle for my pony, Little Bit. Those awesome cowboy boots that no one could get me to take off. The bicycle, the ping pong table, those Carolina blue converse tennis shoes, my horse Buck. The Christmas stockings with apples, oranges, nuts, and those Life Savers enclosed in a book. The memories just seem to flow today.

My Santa was never a slacker, either. On Christmas morning, walking downstairs and into the living room, I found a Christmas wonderland. All the toys were set up and ready to play with, like maybe Santa and his elves had already been playing with the new stuff. I never understood why Mom and Dad looked so tired on Christmas morning; I guessed Santa must have been really noisy and kept them awake.

We always headed to my Nannie’s on Christmas morning, the car packed with presents. We’d spend the day at her house, packed full of aunts, uncles, and cousins. As a kid I felt so protected and so loved. It was okay being me, the little girl who loved all the wrong things—all the things most little boys wanted. I never had an adult in my family say, You really should play with dolls, or wear dresses, or anything of that nature. I was me, and free to be the me who was in my skin.

Oh, how I long for those days. I think if I could go back and freeze myself at one point in my life, I would choose this part of my childhood.

Growing up, and growing old, are sure not for the weak of heart. Life throws lots of curve balls your way. Sometimes you don’t read the pitch just right and the curve ball hits you right in the gut. Sometimes right in the heart, even. You begin to doubt yourself: doubt who you are and doubt that life is fair. Little secret, just between us: Life isn’t fair.

You deal with the curve balls as they come your way. For me, someone who spent my childhood and young adulthood being the apple of my parents’ eyes, I was devastated, overcome with self-doubt, and filled with a lot of self-hatred after coming out to my parents. All of a sudden, I was not okay being in my skin.

I came out to my parents when I was 19. That year for Christmas, Santa brought me a dress and a skirt. It was not okay to be who I was anymore because my parents did not approve and did not accept me. I have spent all these years, from then to now, really not loving and not accepting myself. Seeing myself as a second-class citizen.

But not anymore.

From today forward: I am me. I will fit into this skin again and be the me I am meant to be. If you have a problem with it, the problem is yours and you will have to deal with it. I am done contorting my life to help you feel comfortable.

I realize this whole mind trip has been of my own creation, the product of my need to feel loved. I guess that love needs to come from within first. And though I long for that childhood of carefree living, the curvy road of life keeps bringing me back to the need to fix the things within myself that have manifested from those days.

I miss my mom! I miss my dad! I miss my family!