This relates to my last post. Because I lied. I said I was fine, and I will be, but I am not as of yet. You might ask why, so let’s unpack my “experience.”
In the moment that conversation happened, when I panic blacked-out, as I mentioned, this is what it actually felt like:
I experienced, simultaneously, ALL of the negative emotions I felt during the months-long process of coming out 18 years ago. All of the fear, hate, rejection, self-loathing, confusion, shame, exhaustion, disappointment, and pain, plus a few other things I must be forgetting, shot through me like a lightning bolt. It was like having a really horrid out of body experience, in my body. It’s no wonder I blacked out and can’t remember much from the actual conversation.
All of that to say, I think I have some PTSD-type crap happening right now. I can’t concentrate. I can barely eat. I can’t sleep, which I am usually bad at, but this is extra epic. I am anxious in that gross, panic-y way. I feel like I am having a heart attack. I am hypervigilant and jump at the slightest noise or other disturbance. I feel ashamed. I feel like I don’t deserve to be here. I haven’t even cried. It will get better, I know, but it’s really unnecessary.
And it’s all because someone decided it was righteous and God-like to instigate this judgement. Of course, this well-intentioned (in her mind) person has no clue the type of damage this shit does.
One of my friends asked if I thought she was secretly questioning her personal beliefs. I highly doubt it.
Another jokingly said “You totally should have kissed her.” But even though it might have traumatized her as much as she traumatized me, it would in no way be worth it.
Even if she had wanted me to (which she did not) – you aren’t tall enough for this ride, sister.
I am an experience, not an experiment.
I am not Friday night at the bar. I am church on Sunday followed by dinner.
I am also deeply saddened that this occurred. Because I’m the one paying for it. I am the one bearing the burden of being judged and dehumanized. Being queer is not a choice. It’s my existence.
Fortunately for me, I have a very wonderful and loving community of friends. I can and have talked with many of them about where I’m at right now and am receiving all of the support, offers to break legs, and hugs a person needs.
At least for one person’s confused and unwitting hate, there is the love of another 100 people.