So You Know

Fine. You got me. I’m here. It’s happened a few times in these past months. Well, more than a few times. I’ve been broken in new exciting ways I wasn’t remotely mentally aware I would be. You know, that kind of stuff happens to other people. I’m not going to break my own heart. I’m not going to (I still don’t like using this term about it, but) I’m not going to be ugh, I can’t say it. I’m not going to be touched against my wishes by my friend of several years. I’m not going to break up with my girlfriend of almost three years while beginning a new knocked-the-wind-out-of-me relationship with someone else who, hey, happened to be in a poly relationship with the friend who may or may not have assaulted me. Yeah. Y’all have missed a few things.

I’m not in a good place right now. I haven’t been for a few weeks. But this is when I do my best writing. Or should I say my only writing. Over these past three years I thought I didn’t want to write because I was busy living life. I wanted to enjoy the moments I was having. Happy at last. Playing house. With my girlfriend, Ivory, and my apartment, and my career job. Ha. Why did I ever for a second believe that I could have something good like that? Maybe because it wasn’t good. Not all the time and not in the big ways. That felt like what I deserved and I could accept it.

I couldn’t go a week without someone telling me to break up with her. That she was a gold-digger. That she was using me. Maybe that’s how desperate I am for love. I still don’t believe that. I defended her furiously. I still feel loved by her. I’m still reeling from the break up a couple months ago as I write this. Has it only been two months?? So much has happened since then.

Meeting my ex girlfriend

Okay. I am not who I was in 98% of the blog posts prior to this one. Let’s get some stuff rapid fire. I met my now ex-girlfriend in my second year of unemployment. We chatted online as you do with online dating. I fell for her hard. And I was afraid. I pushed her away. Until I just needed someone. And she was there for me. Despite being suicidal in that moment, she listened to my comparatively bland issues. That was enough for me. All I wanted was someone I could count on. She proved time and time again she was willing to be that for me. She still does post breakup (which only kills me more each time).

I got a job away from where I was living with my parents, depressed and broke and alone. I lived there a week before she (through a long series of events) no longer had a stable home. I drove five hours to put gas in her car, we had lunch and I immediately drove the five hours back to my new apartment and what would be my new life. A few days later she moved in with me.

I tried (maybe not very hard). I didn’t want to get involved with her. I knew it would complicate things. But it was futile. I only had one bed. There were feelings on both sides. A week after she began living with me, we made it official. I had to change so much in my life to accept her in it.

My gender identity

Big things, I had to face fears. Growing up I identified as a girl because I knew it was the only choice. You might think that’s a stupid reason, but truly that was why. I remember being elementary school aged and thinking that. I remember telling myself not to dwell on what wasn’t real. That I was born in this body and thus had to make the best of it. It didn’t matter what I felt. It was the reality and I had to accept it. The only choice.

This topic came up and my ex was nothing but supportive. She asked if I had heard of nonbinary identities and how gender is a spectrum not necessarily a binary. I decided to see how that felt. It still feels best. Though the entire time we lived in East Texas (two years) I couldn’t get up the nerve to ask for my pronouns (they/them) to be respected. I did start to go by a different name, one that was more gender neutral (Zie) and I always had her support.

I am still so lost about this. I still have that pull to just go with the status quo and ignore anything gender related to me. There are so many bigger issues in this world than what socially constructed gender norms I personally feel more connected to. I still feel that way. I still am the one who most invalidates myself with my gender identity and many more areas of my life. I can’t shake the given assumption that I don’t matter. Maybe that’s the low self-esteem talking or some other messed up thing that’s happened to me, but I still don’t see the use in dwelling on it.

Heck, I could talk about this for ages. I’m still spinning on this, because I recently (three or four months ago) decided to take better care of my health which cruelly included taking female hormones (I naturally had higher levels of testosterone than normal for people assigned female at birth or AFAB). Anyway, that’s a whole ‘nother post.

Back to the things I had to learn/face. Though I have slightly higher levels of testosterone, I realize that the majority of people see me as a girl. I understand and at times it did make me sad, but I know I haven’t committed to any kind of voice training or binding my chest or taking male hormones or anything purposeful to look more like how I feel. (With the exception of when I finally cut my hair short and felt for once like my insides matched my outsides more).

The cool thing about that was that more people just wouldn’t gender me. It was pretty great. But my mom took one look at me, told me she couldn’t believe I paid to let someone butcher my hair like that and swore she would never cut my hair again. She cut my hair, my brother’s, and my dad’s throughout my entire life. That comment still hurts me today. That’s why right now, I have a long shag haircut. I don’t plan on cutting my hair short while I live with my parents again. I’ll just deal with any gender dysphoria. Again, I’m not the priority and have more important things to worry about.

What? You think I’m living with my parents again because I broke up with Ivory and ended up back where I started before getting together with her? Nope. It’s a little more convoluted than that.

Loving Ivory in Antiquated (homophobic?) East Texas

I learned to hold her hand while living in an antiquated, often times openly homophobic city. The first time I held her hand in public was walking to the movie theatre for our first date our first weekend together. I remember she asked me to pick her outfit. I made her dress as a schoolgirl (don’t judge me), with a little black skirt, white button down, and black tie. I wore a form fitting gray and black dress. We held hands and as we walked across the parking lot a couple of guys hooped and hollered from their truck excitedly. She and I laughed at that though I know it could have ended badly.

I was so scared every time I held her hand. It caused me such mental pain to show my love for her in public. I was always afraid a look, a kiss, whatever it was might turn into a physical or verbal altercation where I would have to try to protect us both. She was stunning. Got so much attention anywhere we went in whatever she wore. Worse yet for me, she liked to flaunt her body. I was her partner. I knew how good she looked and I told her as much in the privacy of our home. But whenever it was time to go out in public, I’ll admit, I was unreasonable. I begged her to cover up. It caused me such duress even when just her bra straps showed.

I was brought up with female ideals. It was drilled into me to be chaste and dress modestly always, but especially in view of others. I tried not to pass on these traumas to her, but she has told me, just yesterday night as I write this, how my behavior killed her confidence. It was a fine line and it seems I crossed it. I am sorry. Yet, in my messed up mind, I am so glad to be the bad guy here instead of some person attacking us on the street. I hate being the one to even remotely victim shame. I’m not saying scantily clad women are asking for it. People should wear what they are comfortable in. I just knew we were already at greater risk of aggression as a lesbian appearing couple, and I let my fear of that be greater than encouraging her self expression.

Killing Myself to Provide for my Little Family

Anyway, there were many more issues throughout the years. We lived in our own apartment for two years. I loved coming home to her, but as time went on the responsibilities of providing and caring for her and two cats became too much. I was in a job I quickly confirmed was not for me. I worked at a hospital as an inpatient dietitian. It was okay for a year when we were better staffed but when my coworker left and it was only me and my boss. It became too much.

I started taking an extra day off with my paid time off (PTO) every month as a mental health day and still it didn’t feel like enough. We rotated units and when I was in charge of our tiny 16 bed ICU at that hospital, there were weeks where I came home every day from work to cry into her shoulder and pass out. When I awoke, it was only to go back to work and repeat the cycle. I was crumbling. I couldn’t focus. I spent too many hours at work just trying to do my job but not able to most days. My anxiety got so bad I often couldn’t force myself to go talk to patients until after lunch which understandably would put me behind on work and only feed the terrible spot I put myself in.

Other days I was so overwhelmed that work was the safe spot. Many nights I stayed at work just staring at my laptop unable to finish up my last note or two knowing it meant I would have to go home, likely to a messy home and having to figure out dinner. Ivory was a great listener and support system. She also did pick up most of the cleaning responsibilities towards the end when I could barely get myself to work everyday, but we ended up eating out for most of our meals.

Mixed Emotions- Living with Ivory in East Texas

We had so many good times in these two years and honestly, I still miss those good times. We had so many laughs and that’s where we rescued my cat, Piranha, from the streets. She actually lured the kitten and begged to keep it. I wasn’t automatically on board so she let it back out but I saw how much that hurt her so I relented and am glad I did. I love that cat. He’s so energetic and is a great contrast to the cat she already had when she moved in, a cozy lap cat nicknamed Nat.

The biggest conflict with her and I was financial. That’s why most people told me I should break up with her. She was unemployed for about six months since she moved in with me. After that time, she got a series of part time jobs but never close to what I was earning with a college degree. I did not expect her to, but that financial burden made me feel trapped in this job that was mentally killing me.

I lost my life to work, especially that last year once we were understaffed and the anxiety was in full swing. Whenever I did end up having a free moment I would freak out, not knowing what I was supposed to do. What I did with my free time was meal plan and look at the bank account or think about what we could afford for our next date night.

I had told her (before we got in a committed relationship) when she moved in that she would have a home as long as I lived in East Texas (my job contract was for two years). We both agree that we probably should have broken up then. But she didn’t have steady income or any sufficient kind of savings and I loved her. Still do. My father, surprise of all surprises, invited both of us and our two cats to move into my childhood home (in the little garage turned studio).

One of the very difficult things I did as a result of being in a relationship with her was coming out to my parents. My father, who I had tried to broach the subject and told I was bi only to be disregarded and not have it acknowledged. My mother, who constantly reminded me to never bring a girl home.

Moving into my Parent’s Home with Ivory and Cats in Tow

My dad inviting her to stay at his home changed everything. I had gotten to the conclusion that we would have to find an apartment in the DFW area (I had gotten a job here since I knew my parents wanted me to live closer and Ivory wanted to live in a bigger city). Being told that we had a safe landing pad though? That meant we didn’t have to scramble to figure out a way to pay for an apartment all at once. We could save up money, not be as rash.

We had planned to move with my friend, Theresa, from East Texas but upon the news from my dad, we decided to take six months to save up moving monies. I had a job set up, but it would give my ex the time to job hunt and contribute financially (though Theresa and I had spoken about being able to cover the rent just us two since I had been paying the majority of the rent over the past couple years of living with my ex). Well, I got several thousands of dollars in debt due to a vehicle I was still paying off breaking down and needing a new transmission, catalytic converter, and eventually engine (though thankfully the engine was covered by warranty).

We wouldn’t be able to move out of my parent’s place and into an apartment with Theresa who wanted to get out of East Texas where she was born. She wanted to move with us as she saw it as her chance to get out. I wanted that too, but just wasn’t able to financially. I offered to look for studio apartments and house her on our couch for a weekend while she toured them and even if she needed to move out here without a job set up. I offered, but didn’t insist. I know I have an issue of doing too much for people. She didn’t take me up on it.

We faded apart. I had tried to go visit East Texas a couple times in the months following our move but almost got stranded halfway once (when the transmission was bad). I was too scared to travel. And it seems this was the last straw, not moving in with her. We stopped making much of an effort to keep in contact.

Unhappy at Work, Unhappy in my Relationship and Meeting the Love of my Life(?)

As the new year started, I was once again in a place deeply unhappy at work. Still an inpatient dietitian but now in a much larger hospital that was becoming understaffed. I was overworked again and burning out rapidly. Unhappy at work. Unhappy at home. I’d voiced needs not being met to my girlfriend at the time, but it felt like we had just become incompatible on some things that were important to me. She said her needs were being met, and as we were poly, said it was alright for me to look for those needs to be met elsewhere.

I started online dating. I met some people, but nothing that turned into anything. I went to the final game for my old play group (a group Teresa had welcomed me into where we played Pathfinder and Battle Tech). After the game that night I felt the deepest connection I have ever felt with someone. It felt as if the second our eyes locked on each other everything was right with the world. Everything made sense. They were my person, not a single doubt.

It was profound and frankly terrifying. They were Teresa’s partner. She had two partners at the time. One, the seemingly love of my life, Nat (yes, same name as my ex’s cat and coincidentally nonbinary like me) and two, a girl named Agnes. We kissed, but I asked that we speak to our partners first before going further. Us being poly, it was within all understanding that we get involved, but out of respect I wanted this to be voiced to our partners first.

Our partners were on board and encouraged us to see through whatever feelings we were developing. My ex especially was supportive. She was happy I was finally starting to get the needs she didn’t meet for me met. I had someone who was interested in me and complimented me and made me feel special. I was over the moon.

Love Pentagon?

The only thing was that my friend was also interested in me romantically. We had briefly (for about two weeks) been in a relationship or the attempt at a relationship. I broke that off saying that I had too much going on at the time (I was still in East Texas and killing myself at work). I had too much going on to be able to be a good partner to her. She accepted the breakup, but was heartbroken.

Now, I told her I would be open to however our relationship developed, but that this would involve getting to know each other, texting, and otherwise staying connected unlike we had been since I had moved out of town about nine months ago. She agreed and we chatted a couple times before I went back to visit two or three weeks later.

Nothing in comparison to me and Nat though. Looking back, we were completely infatuated. We spoke for hours texting every single day. I got to know them intimately before we saw each other again. So, when I went to visit those two or three weeks later, I decided to stop by Teresa’s place and let her down easy.

Letting my Friend Down…Did Not Go According to Plan

I spoke with her for a few hours just catching up and explaining why I was not interested in pursing anything with her romantically or physically. Being realistic, this is already a massive blog post and I’m not emotionally in the headspace to give details about the rest of that visit, but suffice it to say that it did get physical. I wasn’t able to say no and so I still blame myself for it though I’ve been told by people who love me that it was still sexual assault. I still don’t know what I believe.

After this, I spent the weekend with Nat. I tried to spend time with Teresa too but it was clear she was jealous of my budding relationship with Nat. The day I was to leave town, Nat and I each sat down with her. I explained to her why the physical situation she initiated with me was not consensual on my side.

At first she didn’t react but after a while she began to cry and said she couldn’t believe she crossed a boundary like that and said it would take a long time to forgive herself. I assured her I was still willing to be her friend but that there is no question about it anymore. I had absolutely no desire for anything physical with her now or ever. I felt violated, but I forgave her. Nat, spoke with her alone next and broke up with her. That’s the last time I have seen my friend in person.

Break Up

I went home, though my ex would argue that I never came back from that weekend trip. I asked her to have dinner with me that evening as soon as I arrived into town. She could tell there was something seriously wrong as soon as I picked her up at home. She extended her arms to hug me, but I couldn’t accept it. I just shook my head no and got in the passenger’s seat. I knew I would have broken down right then and there in her embrace.

She drove us to get food and we ate in the parking lot. I choked out my story as best as I could and at one point I heard the words “would it be okay if we were just friends?” escaping my lips. I hadn’t planned on saying that. Though, if I’m honest, those words had been on my tongue since nine months into our relationship. She didn’t argue. She didn’t disagree. She said yes.

Shortly after, I’m not making this up for dramatic effect, probably two minutes into the drive home, I got a call from my mom informing me that my brother was in the hospital. I screamed. I had just let go of my person, my biggest support, naught 120 seconds ago and now I didn’t know if my brother was alive or not (he’s been sickly since he was a child and this is a very possible statement).

Back to Work and New Normal Life

I went to work the next day in a daze. I was scheduled to observe an outpatient dietitian as my boss was working on possibly getting me transferred to an outpatient role seeing how quickly I was burning out as in an inpatient dietitian. I know I did not make a good impression. The following week, still reeling from everything I interviewed for the position.

Spoiler, I got the job. My ex still lives with me (does not have the savings to move out and is currently working a part time job). Nat and I are kind of still dating. I have felt distant from them (did I mention they are nonbinary like me?). And I might just not be in a good headspace for a relationship. Nat was my biggest support immediately after my breakup and we discussed just being friends then, but they truly were what I needed. Now with the time that has passed, I can accept that we should be friends above all else first especially in this difficult time (both of us going through breakups).

More than that, I have noticed old bad habits returning. Namely the anxiety and emotional eating. I get into a panic if I don’t hear from Nat in hours. I fear they are somehow dead. It’s not rational, I know. I fear they aren’t interested in me though they continue to voice that they believe I am their soulmate. I know they care about me, but I’m in such a bad place I can’t feel it. This is pretty recent (the past two weeks), but it makes me so sad.

Please Let this be Real

I was so deeply infatuated with them. I want to believe it was more than that. I have asked them what happens if I just felt those things because I was in a vulnerable place. I’m afraid of just having used them but they insist that it would be okay and they would only be happy to have been able to help me though that. They assure me that it’s okay to be friends right now.

They believe in us and what is meant to be will be. If somehow we are not meant to be together like they feel so deeply, then they are will happily be a part of my life in as much as I want them to be. As friends for as long as I want or need. They feel right. Emotionally and spiritually, they feel like the person I’ve been waiting for, but realistically (by that I mean in this reality)… I have so many doubts.

I know I’ll have doubts always. I can’t trust in good things and especially with all of the recent events, I can’t trust much of anything at all. I truly hope they are right. Regardless if Nat and I are meant to be, I do believe what is meant to be will be.

In that spirit, we have agreed to be friends first but continue doing what feels right, not worried about a label beyond friendship. It’s such a difficult situation for me who wants clearly defined terms and structure, but I am not ready to let someone in so close to me so soon. I don’t want to keep Nat waiting, but I do believe them when they say they will wait and that they believe I am their person. I hope beyond hope they are right about that. Maybe I have learned nothing…but I do love them.