I tried to take a photo on Saturday and my camera lens fell apart. Completely in two.
I guess when I drunkenly bumped my camera on Friday night it was … slightly harder than I remember it being.
Crazy gusts of wind took down three storey scaffolding and closed Willis Street.
My office also swayed so much in the wind I felt a wee bit seasick.
(This was also the day I officially came out and y’all were so nice & supportive)
So. Here’s the thing. I have been going through A Time recently. I think I’m ready to tell you about it now. I wasn’t going to. But then … this website has been part of my life for so long.
At the heart of things, I’ve been struggling with this for years. Unfortunately it’s only in the past few months where everything has up and fallen in line, leaving me standing here with my realisation and a big fat “oh.” on my face.
I’m gay. Like… quite gay.
Yea, I know. Believe me, I know. I know. It was a surprise to me too.
I’ve never ever been straight, I knew that, everyone knew that, but I’ve also had Craig since I was 16 so I guess I just never actually got to see which way my heart was headed. He was my best friend, he still is my best friend, and for 13 years that was … almost enough.
Earlier this year I was going through a ‘bad brain’ time and all of a sudden thought “well, maybe I’m gay” and then everything over the past two, maybe three years fell into line and I saw exactly the path that lead me here.
I would give pretty much anything to have realised this at 18, or 22, or 28. But also not. I don’t regret the time I’ve had with Craig. Not even a little bit. I loved him, I still do love him. He has been, and will remain, one of the most important parts of my life. He is one of the absolute best people I know.
But yes, Craig and I are separating.
When I told Craig he held my hand while I talked and held my head when I cried and was the most supportive person you can imagine.
It’s been the strangest few weeks. First there was talking with my counsellor, then there was telling Craig, then our families, our friends. And then after that comes the internet.
My mother’s immediate & panicky response to hearing that I have news was “What‽ I’m not prepared for news!”
But, you know, not one single person, upon hearing ‘the news’, has been anything other than amazing and supportive. To me and to Craig. We have an astounding group of people in my life and I am entirely thankful for all of them.
Craig and I are not rushing anything. He is still one of the most important people in my life and I hate that any of this has hurt him. We are moving forward together as friends and I am always trying to be mindful of and kind to him. And vice versa.
I used to think I was just a deeply unhappy person. It turns out that I was just doing a pretty good job of lying to myself. Being true to who I am has been such a weight off my shoulders.
I’m not lying to myself anymore.
Poppies. Tattoo by Victor J Webster
Poppies in October
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly –
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
Oh my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frosts, in a dawn of cornflowers.
— Sylvia Plath (27 October 1962)
Today I got the poppies tattooed. I had vaguely remembered the poem but not that the month was October. And, you know, Plath wrote that on her last birthday alive. Her 30th birthday.
I hadn’t looked up the poem before I got the tattoo. I turn 30 next week.
I am, of course, just overthinking this all. It’s just a strange strange coincidence. Also, I am not even in the slightest bit suicidal. So there’s that.
This tattoo, oh, it hurt so bad. SO bad. I hadn’t had my hip tattooed since October 2010 and yeah, there was a reason it took me three years to get the nerve to get another hip tattoo.
Both Victor and Simon Morse complimented me on how well I sit while getting tattooed. Like the terminator, apparently, I just shut down and don’t move. It’s not the most useful talent to have, but I will take it.
But I think my favourite moment was when Victor asked how old I was and, after being told I was a week away from 30, had me repeat myself and then told me he thought I was 23. This baby face of mine is both a blessing and a curse.
Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.