Hope

Today was the second time this year I had shorts on. It was sunny outside, not so warm, but just fine. The blue skies begged for peace, the green grass stated change. It's spring.

To be honest I hate springtime. I have allergies, and this season is messing with my face as well as my head. Sometimes it's just as if everything explodes. But I survive every time, miraculously.

I'm relieved. I don't feel like a new person, but I can see that I might've changed throughout the last year or so. Someone says coming out completely changes their situation. Maybe that's so. I'm not sure for certain. The last couple of years I've been withdrawn from everything and everyone; I've been hiding. Now I've at a sudden gotten the opportunity to be me and free. Maybe I really have changed...

We all wish life was more simple sometimes. Not that that's ever going to happen... But hope is what's keeping us going. We look forward, or we're just so happy with our lives as it is. If you don't got one of those two, you haven't got much. I choose to believe that hope is what's made me going. When I look back it's really hard to understand what made me keep on as normal as possible, but somehow I made it.

Even though it's tempting to say that everything is perfectly fine now, I don't think I can do so. I know there's stuff inside me that shouldn't necessarily be there. And I've experienced how bad it can become. That's why I see it as important to not be caught on the wagon going to the "perfect" world. I can't put myself in such a vulnerable situation; It's not worth it.

With that said, I must say that I look at the world in a more positive way now than before. I think my life has gotten much better now than one year ago, and I'm very grateful for how my situation is today. The present builds up on my hope for the future. My "goal" looks more reachable now than ever before. And that's a good thing.

It's just to remember the positive when the negative wants to take control. Not exactly my specialty, but I'm working on it.

I'm Coming Out

Diana Ross - I'm Coming Out


Yeah, that's probably the gayest song ever made. But I like it. Now, what happened this Wednesday:

My mother was driving me to my gymnastics practice, and while sitting in the car she just went:
– You've got some well thought out thoughts sometimes.
– Well, thanks... That might be because I've been going to a psychologist for the last half a year, I said.
– Oh... Well, I'm glad I got to know.
And then I got off for gymnastics...

So, after gymnastics practice my mother picked me up and drove me home. We didn't talk all "Oh my God! You're talking to a psychologist!!!" We got home, and in the kitchen we started talking a bit more.

– The reason I've been seeing a psychologist is because I'm a lesbian, I said.
– Oh... Really?
– Yeah...
And then there was this bad scary and awkward silence. I looked at her, and she smiled so weird.
– What?! I asked her
– No, it's nothing. Pause. – I'd really never guessed that...
So I assured her I am, and we started talking about our weird family. And then it was over.

I'm done! I'm freakin' done with it! I came out to my mother!

Yeah, this is the reason why I'm on a current high right now. But I'm done! It's weird, but it's real.

BJ Thomas - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

"Mom...? We Need To Talk."

OK, now it's finally coming. I'm considering telling my mother I'm gay.

To be honest, I never thought I'd say so. Or at least not yet. I'm a freakin' 15! I know one soul doing so before that age. Seriously?

Because I am really thinking about it — to come out to her. When my grandparents were in town for my brother's birthday a week ago, I listened to a conversation between my mother and grandfather. He's writing on (another) book, this time a "real" novel for adults. Filled with (way too much) sex, God, Christianity, condemnation, and homosexuality. Or the condemnation of gays. What a shocking move from him...

What actually is a little shocking to me is that my mother actually pointed out that, and of a sudden they two were discussing homosexuality for over an hour. Pure entertainment that should've been promoted in Big Brother, but that's so. Still, my mother argued pro homosexuals! Wow... That kind of made me speechless. Not that I can't see her as an ally (because I can, though I know a thing or two about her in advance nevertheless), but I've never really listened to her saying stuff like that. Weird, I'm totally aware.

So... This event has been what's made me to think about actually come out to her. The psychologist (I'm trying not to be "anti adults", which means actually listening to him (he really deserves it)) told me to try to establish an OK relationship with my parents, and then especially with my mother. Because I'm way too good at stripping down my emotions and be plastic (not popular bitch in high school plastic). So I'm supposed to allow them to get to know me, at least a little.

"Mom, I've been going to a psychologist the last half a year. And I'm gay. Now, I've accomplished to let you get to know me. I'm awesome." That's something that could easily come out of my mouth. If I decide to tell her. Chances? Am I a bitch if I say that I'll do it to take advantage of the stereotypes so she'll let me go to New York City Pride this summer?

We all wish things were easier than they are. My dream? That when I popped out of my mother's vagina at the age of zero, you could see a mark in my forehead saying "queer". But that didn't happen, and now I'll have to learn how to deal with that. Take the risk of coming out. It's not like she'll kick me out or anything. Or...

If I, hypothetically, come out to her tomorrow, should I go for a girly blouse or take the butch out in the open? Just asking...

The End Or The Start

Meghan Tonjes - The End


Yeah, I think we all need some music today/tonight(/whenever you're reading this). Always, actually. And it fits this day. Every day actually.


Yesterday I had my last session with the psychologist. Which means I'm done. I'm freakin' done! No more "missing" the buss, no restless hours thinking about what some dude I don't even know thinks about me. I don't need to think through everything a thousand times and answer weird questions. And I didn't need to break the deal. He finished it, so I was left with no choice.

To be honest I felt so good after that last time. We talked seriously, we talked weird, we were right and wrong all over. He told me his "thesis's", letting me into the process of deliberate if they were good or bad. And now I know what he really thinks, and what he was left with after this period of almost half a year.

I'm grateful. I'm so grateful it's almost as I don't understand it myself. But I really am. Who "me" would've been if it wasn't for this, I don't even want to know. Bad, I guess. So yes, it's helped me. A lot.

What's happening further? I have no idea. He asked me whether I'd ask for help if I needed it later, and if it's gotten easier. I was a wreck after every session for a while only because I was terrified of going there... To ask for help might not be the easiest for me, but hopefully some of the scary is gone now, as I've seen "how it is". But I really hope this will be the first and last time ever no matter what.

Me ending up as a wreck again is what scares me the most, I think. But when I'm able to go straight to the wrong end, I guess it's possible to go to the right end as well. That sounded weird, but whatever.

Remember the feeling. If I can remember this feeling, I think I can stay happy. The key to happiness is more complicated than x+2=5.

The Killers - I Can't Stay


Go dance!

News: I'm Weird

OK, now it's "out of the bag". Or the closet (?). The psychologist is finishing. He got a new job somewhere else (I know I'm not nosy enough to know where, and it kinda irritates me), and he's done by the end of April.

You know what? I'm kinda glad he's getting a new job. Because that means I don't need to be so "obsessed" thinking about when to stop having sessions with him. Still, I told him about the "I wanna leave"-thoughts, and he seemed somewhat worried. Yeah, my life is quite crappy sometimes, but I really don't need him to worry as well as me being afraid of what I'm capable of doing and whatnot.

Well, now right before he's quitting his job, we're sort of speed dating. Or if you ask me, that's the best thing to call it. Put in it whatever you want, but we're just seeing each other rather often right now (because I'm weird and have weird thoughts, and need to talk to somebody about my problems). So, yeah... Need to say no more.

Now (surprise, surprise!), I'm a very weird person today. And I use way too many parentheses in this post... And this is becoming more and more random.

Anyhow, I've been thinking about this with religion and stuff. This winter break, when my brother and I visited our grandparents in their cabin near Trysil, Grandpa said something. "You've already chosen what you believe in," he told me on the way to the airport. Oh, I have? And you're the one to decide so?

Maybe I get why he thinks as he does regarding homosexuality. In his mind your sexuality is something that can be changed (I'm not going to go further on this subject and include the bi's, transsexuals and other queers), and apparently he thinks you can just choose what you want to believe in. Is it so? Can you choose? I don't think you can. You might deny what you believe in, but I don't think you can choose if you got faith and can believe in God or not. Of course people might shift between religions; Religions is so much more than old books and gods. Still, that little thing regarding believing can't be changed. That's what I say.

And who chooses their religion or faith as brutal as he wants it to look like? Sometimes I just feel the situation with him is just hopeless. As if you believe your plant is this close being dead, even though you've done everything to keep it alive. It really irritates me that he thinks he knows everything about me, and that he can say he knows I've chosen when I don't even know it myself. Screw him. Though I bet you it's definitely not easy.

My grandfather is my plant. When am I going to learn that he can't be "saved" from his own hell. He's even decorated the whole thing! Yes, my grandfather is my plant. Or the weed around me. I bet the last.

Session Filed "Scary"

So, yet another day passed, yet another session done. Weird...

Today I was at his once again. We talked, we analyzed (I think we got our own psychoanalyzing club...), we wondered, and we talked even more. I think this session has been the longest thus far. At least it felt that way. Not so sure whether that's a good or a bad thing, but whatever.

Last time we decided that this session was to be about my family. Or, I asked if we could so. Because he kind of wanted me to be done. Poor guy, now I totally messed that up for him. Because I actually told him. That I was suicidal. Once.

I'm definitely low on sleep, and this day has been marked by that. When walking up to his office, I just had to stop for a second. I got tears in my eyes, wondering how I could possibly tell him this. The anxiety I've had before "invaded" me, and by a sudden I regret the whole thing. Why should I even care going in? But I did.

He could definitely see it. Smart as he is, he got that this was my way of showing him I wanted to tell him something. He asked. I said, "I want to tell you something, but I can't say it." So he suggested getting back to it. It's not like you're supposed to freak people out three minutes after you've met them.

We talked about my family. How my relationship with my grandfather is rather bad. How I'm terrified about my future. I don't even know if I'll have a real family around me ten years from now... Only future will tell. I really do have a bad relationship with them all. But I can't really see how it's supposed to become any better, as I've said before. If I'm to look at it myself, I'll ask if I really want any relationship with my family later in life. Maybe I feel I'm too vulnerable to manage hoping.

After a while he wanted to know what I wanted to tell him. So I spent 15 minutes trying to say it without saying it directly. In stead of sounding like it was supposed to, it sounded like I was about to say my father or grandfather raped me. Which wasn't the case. But trust me, it really sounded like that was the deal. He got it in the end, though.

"Sometimes I just wish I could disappear. Like, especially this Christmas." That's what I said, adding a lot extra, though, as I always do. But that's what I said. Then he got it. Thankfully.

I'm not going to go more into this part. My apologize, or blessing, depending on how you look at it and what's your outcome. Because I tend to be quite insensitive sometimes, and that might easily make people even more sad than this blog has already caused by it's nature. But we talked about this subject for a while, touching other things as well and putting everything into one (That sounds weird, and I'm totally aware).

Hopefully he gets me. I think he does. Though I can guarantee you I'm difficult to understand. So anything over 35% is approved. Maybe he'll let me understand how to get out of this mess I'm creating for myself. I'm crossing my fingers.

What To Tell The Psychologist Tomorrow

Now, here's my list. Totally just for my own randomness, but if you tag along, you do so. I just can't find anywhere else to write at the moment.

What I should tell the psych tomorrow:
My relationship with my father and grandparents sucks. I can't see how it's going to improve, and I have no idea what to do with it. Right now the only thing I can look at as an option, is to completely shut down my relationship with them. Not talk to them, not involving in their business. And, most importantly, not let them disturb my life.

I feel horrible sometimes. This one has to do with the first one, but it's really an issue in itself. When I'm around my father, grandfather and grandmother, I feel horrible. I end up thinking thoughts I really shouldn't think, and those thoughts could really scare the bravest. It's ruining me sometimes, and I can walk for days thinking solely about this case. It's not helping them either, I guess. Even though they try to change my feelings for them, it's really not working. Maybe, I don't know, but maybe they're really touched by this too. But it's not helping me, no matter what. Still, I don't want to "bring them down with me". Am I thinking weird?

I should confess. I should confess I was suicidal. Does it really matter? Yes, I guess it does. So I want to get done with it. Let it go, let it flow.

I wish I was done with it all. Maybe this will be the last time. I can't be at his forever. I got to live my own life, and learn how to deal with things happening. Become free.

Maybe it isn't freedom. Maybe it is. I can't know that for now. Neither can I choose what it is, ending this thing. But I really hope it's freedom knocking on my door when I say "goodbye" for the last time. Wish me luck on becoming free. I'll probably need it...

Why am I chasing freedom and solitude? Why do I feel captured?

If Caring Was Easy

Have I ever said I got weird feelings? Bet you I have. But they are. Or I can't understand them. Something like that.

I've been almost half a year in therapy now. It helps, thankfully. But I wish I could just be done. Like, it's not supposed to be like my allergies, who won't ever go away. It's feelings, and they change. But apparently they won't really change it to the good.

Yes, I'm feeling a lot better. A lot. But sometimes I just end in my same bad habits, with my same old thoughts. Maybe it's how it's supposed to be, with "hormones, with you get at this age" making the thing. I don't know, really. But I think there's still something there.

For me to hate somebody or something is quite a big deal. I think I hate him. That's what his doings, feelings and way of being has caused him; Me hating my grandfather. And it's not like my relationship with my father is so much better, really. But I don't really get it. Or... How can something I don't even care for them to know make me so unhappy? It's ruining our relationship, and I don't even get why.

As of this I've been thinking: How can I possibly make my relationship with them any better? No, at the time being I'm not able to move out. And I'm not able to cut my contact with them either at the moment. And when it has come this far, I can't see any other solution than to do so. Maybe I'm too close to the problem to see it... If you got any suggestions, feel free to pass them on.

When I question them, I have to question myself. Am I making this problem? Probably yes, but they're not exactly helping on the situation either. Maybe I'm overthinking this little thing? It's not like it's lifechanging for them, I guess. It is for me, though. My chances of ending up pregnant on a party has been dramatically changed. To me that's good. But facing discrimination and hate because of who I am, that's not what you can call positive.

I'm making it bigger than it is, am I not? Why should my sexuality be such a big problem for them? It's on my shoulders, and it's me who got to deal with it, not them. I don't get why I even care...

Why do I care?