Hope

All complaints aside, I have a very awesome life. My brain doesn’t currently want to acknowledge this fact, but it doesn’t make it less true. I will regale you later with the wonders of the people who give me the ability to exist and retain hope. But it’s not just the people.

As an out queer woman who is very obviously out and queer (looks like a duck, might be a duck, people) I have the huge fortune of living in a country that (thus far in my life) has moved far enough along that I’m not under threat of incarceration or worse on a daily basis.

I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Seattle is incredible. There are mountains all around. I can see snow-capped peaks in 3 directions any clear day. We have the gorgeous Puget Sound. There are ORCAS in there! It’s hilly and lovely. The climate is relatively mild. Not that anywhere else I’ve lived has been bad, but this place is special. Environment matters. It helps with the whole hope thing.

Other hopeful factors range from statistical probabilities that I will someday feel different, to personal stories from others who have endured lots. So much, in many cases, and yet they persisted.

I have hope mostly because I am one stubborn person. Some are lovers, some are fighters, some are ridiculously stubborn. I don’t want to fight. I do want to love. I have yet to find a moment when I am willing to give up. Fuck that.


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