Focus on the Stars

One of my favorite things to do in nature is stargazing.  Whenever I escape city life, one of the first things I do is look at the night sky, which is so bright and beautiful and unique.

True confession: I have been struggling a lot in my life recently, for a variety of reasons that are equal parts within, and outside of, my control. Many days feel so dark and clouded with negativity and tough moments, that finding the good seems harder than rocket science.  But one night recently, when I was struggling to find clarity and happiness, my partner made this analogy about my favorite nature-related activity: "When you look at the sky, you have two choices.  You can focus on the dark space, or you can focus on the stars... the way they sparkle, the designs they make, the way they light up the sky." 

That comment stopped my tears, dead in their tracks.

Most of the night sky is dark, and we shouldn't ignore the dark. It's healthy to identify and claim our dark spaces, to know that it's okay for them to be part of our sky. But we can't stop there. We also need to identify our stars, and know that they can be as bright as we let them be.  Our view is so much more beautiful, so much more transcendent, so much more illuminated, when we choose to focus on the bright spots - our stars.

My stars are my partner Pete, and the rest of my family, both bio and chosen.  My stars are dinner parties with friends on my deck at dusk. My stars are weekend North Shore getaways; That first sip of wine at the end of a long day; The time that Lucas referenced something the three of us did "as a family"; A strong run on a crisp early fall afternoon;  Songs that instantly make me feel warm; Solving a problem at work that I've been trying to figure out for weeks.  Put together, all of my stars work together to form amazing constellations and mini-universes.  So many tiny little dots of happiness that add up to a lifetime of sparkle and brightness.

My sky includes both dark space and bright stars.  Every day is filled with a combination of both.  On the days when I'm focusing my gaze on the dark space, I'm missing out on the stars.  But on the days when my attitude is shifted to keep my eyes focused on the stars, the dark space fades away.  On those days, my stars seem brighter, bigger, and better. 

No matter how cloudy the day, no matter how dark the sky, there are always stars.  Sometimes we have to look harder to find them, but when we do, they are always visible in some capacity.  The dark space is always there, too.  Every day brings potential reasons for self-doubt, for tears and anger, for divisiveness. We can focus on those things if we want, but by doing so, we are missing out on the beauty of the stars - the part of the sky that is really worth gazing at.

Focus on the stars.

A Thank-You Letter to my Ex

Two years ago when I was packing in preparation to move out of the house we bought together and shared for the previous five years, I found so many emotion-filled memories.  I wrote them down for you and told you that maybe some day I'd be able to thank you for these memories.  Two years ago, I wasn't ready to say thank you.  I was so hurt by your leaving, and was grieving the loss of a future with you that would never be known.

Today, as I am again packing up my home in preparation for the next phase of life, I am finally ready to say thank you. 

Thank you for letting me go.  You knew I was feeling trapped in our life.  I desperately needed a chance to experience the kind of freedom and self-actualization I never had before.  We'd met in our early 20s, barely post-college, certainly unequipped to make a decision about what we would want "for the rest of our lives".  For most of our marriage, I was in your shadow.  My accomplishments were your accomplishments, my identity was your identity, my pride was your pride.  Since you left, I have become me.  I have my own identity, my own name, my own interests and accomplishments.  I'm proud of who I am - not of who my husband is.  The best thing you ever did for me was leave me. 

Thank you for showing me that I didn't need you.  I thought that I did. I didn't think I knew how to be an adult without you.  But necessity showed me that I could. I've learned to do everything that I need to do - on my own, using my resources, without your help.  Some of the ways that you did things were smart, and I learned from that. Some of the ways you did things were not smart, and I learned from that too.

Thank you for not letting it drag out at the end.  Once you were done, we were done.  There was no chance for mediation, counseling, or reconciliation.  My attempts to beg you to change your mind or give me another chance were met with emotionless walls of refusal.  That hurt me at the time, but now I am grateful.  The letting-go phase was the hardest, and if it had gone on for longer, as no doubt would have been the case if you had acquiesced to my wishes, the hurt would have been greater.

Thank you for being fair.  We each took what we deserved in order to equalize, nothing more and nothing less.  There were no fights about who was owed what - we knew what the math said, and neither of us had enough animosity toward the other to try to fight for more. Having now experienced the impact of a divorce that is not fair or equitable in any way, I am extraordinarily grateful that ours was.

Thank you for the opportunity to experience something honestly difficult.  This was the first time in my life that I was faced with a true tragedy: something that I didn't think I'd ever have to do, something that I didn't know if I could do, something that in some circles I was judged for.  It was only by going through this that I learned that I really am braver than I believe, smarter than I seem, and stronger than I think.  It was only by going through this that I'm now equipped to handle something much worse and much harder.  Everyone should have the opportunity to experience truly difficult things.  Not only do they provide a chance to prove strength, but they give the good things so much more meaning.

Truth be told, we were both just winging it, which is all anyone can ever do.  I'm so much happier now, and I believe, and hope, that you are also. 

Hello, I Am: Bisexual

June is one of my favorite months of the year.  In addition to it being the month with the longest days, the prettiest sunsets, and the best running weather, one of the reasons I love June is because it's Pride month.  Pride has been special to me for different reasons every year I have celebrated it.  Today, I want to acknowledge one of the things I'm proud of this year.

I remember over a decade ago, wondering to myself if my attraction to women was just a phase, whether it was something I should pursue, whether it was abnormal. I can remember at that time feeling like I would never have the support I would need to give it a fair shot.  I remember years later, how right it felt the first time my lips touched her lips, her hand touched my waist, my fingers touched her hair.  I remember wondering how anyone would think that could be wrong.  I remember standing in the capitol rotunda minutes after the state senate voted for marriage equality, chanting "love is louder" and rejoicing knowing that regardless of the gender of the person who I would some day love, that love could be legally recognized. I remember kissing a woman in public and being approached by a man asking if he could join us. I remember walking hand in hand in a park at night, wondering if it would be safer to let go.  I remember the nervousness of coming out to my straight friends, and my family, and being met with a mixture of love, total acceptance, concern, and denial. I remember hours upon hours in talks with gay friends, interrogating them about "how they knew", and feeling almost jealous of their certainty of exclusively same-sex attraction.  Why didn't I feel so certain?

For the nearly two years that I was grappling with sexual orientation and trying to figure out where I fell on the spectrum, I almost exclusively dated women. The couple of men I went out with were unappealing, and I had absolutely no interest in them. Women were beautiful, and soft, and freeing. And complicated.  Sometimes women turned away from me upon finding out that I had a relationship history with men. Dating was a struggle, as I consistently felt like I had to prove to women - and to myself - that I was legit.

But the minute I met Pete, everything changed.  When he touched my back on the balcony before our first date, the sparks I felt were different and stronger than anything I'd felt before.  Our conversation was authentic, and barrier-free, and fun.  And five hours later when we finally kissed, after what felt like years of waiting, I knew that I never wanted to stop.  That night, I was finally able to easily answer the question that I'd been struggling with for years: I am not gay.  I am not straight. I am not confused. I'm bisexual.

One of my biggest concerns when I was in the beginning stages of a hetero-normative relationship was trying to decide how I was going to maintain my queer identity. I wasn't sure how I could still be bi when I'm living like I'm straight.  Pete has been incredibly supportive of this part of who I am, and has encouraged me to do what I can to continue to live and grow in my bisexual identity, despite being in a monogamous heterosexual relationship. He has embraced my community in a way beyond what I could have ever dreamed.  He is more comfortable with it than I would have ever expected. When he isn't sure about something, he asks me.

When I first started bringing Pete to events, there was some confusion among my wider network.  A couple of people candidly said to me, "I thought you were a lesbian".  Others assumed that he was a new gay on the scene, and weren't shy about wanting to meet him.  He took all of that in stride.   One stranger approached us at a queer event and, upon seeing that we were together, told us we "shouldn't be at a gay bar if we're straight."  We shrugged it off, knowing that everyone who really matters to us is supportive and accepting and welcoming.  Not every person needs or deserves to know our story.

For the first time in my life, I'm completely confident in my sexual identity.  I know where I stand. Discovering the truth about myself has been a long and winding road, and in some ways I think we are all constantly in a process of learning about ourselves.  But for now, I feel like I have really "arrived".   I'm proud to be bisexual; in fact, it is one of my favorite things about myself.  In the wise words of the beautiful and inspiring Mary Lambert: "I can't change, even if I tried.  Even if I wanted to."  There is no reason for me to want to change this about myself.

However you identify, in whatever aspect of your life, I hope you feel confident in that identity. And if you're not sure about an aspect of who you are, I can tell you from experience:  the process of self-discovery takes effort, but it is well worth it to come out on the other side being truly proud of who are.

Happy Pride month!!!

What Marriage Isn't

My boyfriend and I have been talking about marriage.

Don't freak out.  I'm not dumb enough to agree, or ask, to marry someone I've only been dating for a few months.  Only a naive, inexperienced, overly excitable child (i.e. me at age 23) would do something that ridiculous.  Pete and are I aren't talking about getting married ourselves.  Honestly, right now we are a lot more concerned about getting him un-married, which has been a a tenuous, frustrating, and seemingly never-ending process.  But through this experience, and through thinking about my own experience of marriage and divorce, I've come up with a list of my values about what marriage is... or rather, maybe more importantly, what it is NOT. This list is a work in progress.  It's silly to think that one's ideas about any big topic, marriage included, will remain constant from one season of life to the next.  This list almost completely contradicts what 23 year-old Kate believed, and 43 year-old Kate will likely have yet another very different lens. But, in the present moment, this is what I know to be true.:

Marriage is not necessary.  Just because a couple is in a long-term relationship does not mean that they are required to get married.  It's one option, but it is not the only way to be committed and to demonstrate that commitment.

Marriage is not a status symbol.  A married person is not in any way superior to a single person, despite what mainstream culture might subtly suggest. Being married does not mean that a person is more stable, more mature, more desirable, or happier. 

Marriage does not increase commitment.  A couple's level of commitment to one another should not change upon getting married.  Marriage is a symbol of commitment, but it does not create greater commitment. 

Marriage is not gender specific.  Marriage is an equal opportunity institution, for either same or different gendered couples.  Minnesota proclaimed this loud and clear two years ago.  36 other state governments agree.  Churches and other faith communities across the nation agree.  I don't think this could be more obvious and fundamentally true.

Marriage is not an antidote to loneliness.  Some of the times I  felt the most alone were when I was married, and some of the times I felt the most included and in community with others were when I was single.  Too many people get married because they believe it will create permanent company and companionship.  It won't.

Marriage does not mean a loss of individual identity.  I was recently at a wedding where the couple lit a unity candle:  They each took separate candles, representative of their individual selves, and from those flames lit a third candle, representative of their relationship.  After lighting the unity candle, the bride and groom were then instructed by the pastor to blow out their individual candles, leaving only the joint candle to burn.  This struck me as the wrong foundation for a marriage. Being married is not a reason to extinguish one's own flame.

Marriage should not equate to starting a new life together.  By the time a couple gets married, their life together should already be created and well-established. They should know each other inside and out. They should have gotten into fights about taking out the trash or loading the dishwasher.  They should be used to falling asleep to the rhythms of one another's breathing.  There should be no post-wedding surprises or big life changes upon getting married.

Marriage does not have to be boring.  Married couples do not have to follow the traditional, Norman Rockwell American Family format.  They don't have to buy a house in the suburbs, have a dog and 2.5 children, and settle into a routine.  There is no standard rulebook for a great marriage, and every couple should be able to create for themselves what they want from their life together.  "Settling in" is not an unavoidable part of marriage.

Marriage does not come with a lifetime guarantee.  This is a hard one to swallow, because what couple ever wants to consider that their marriage may not last until death parts them?  But it's true - and recognizing and understanding that is realistic and healthy.

None of these assertions meant to undermine the importance or relevance of marriage, either at the individual or societal level. Rather, they are meant to challenge some of the perceived qualities about marriage that many people, for a variety of reasons, might believe going in.  This list is simply what I have arrived at as a result of experiences (both what I have witnessed in others, and what I have lived myself), personal beliefs, and values.  If you are married, if you have been married, or if you might someday consider getting married - I challenge you to thoughtfully come up with your own list of what marriage does or does not mean to you. 

This Too Shall Pass

One year ago today, my ex and I sold the house that we jointly owned.  Closing on the house meant so much more than a transaction of property.  We were also closing on the life that we had created together - taking the last legal step to dissolve that which was binding us together.  We sat in the small beige office room awkwardly for two hours.  He was detached and seemingly unemotional, as expected.  The grief I felt was more pervasive than I thought it would be, and at the time, it felt stronger than me.  I spent the rest of the day catatonic on the couch, because even breathing felt too hard - let alone completing the menial tasks of the day.

At the time, this was by far the biggest problem in my life, the worst thing I could imagine.  But now, one year later, it is just a distant memory.  I'm not scarred from it.  I'm not still defeated by it.  I am far from paralyzed.  The was no permanent damage.  I would almost go so far as to say that I'm glad I went through it.

Most problems and struggles, even those that seem enormous while they are happening, are fleeting and impermanent.  Most won't have an impact at all a year later.  This is a reminder I'm hanging on to today, as I now face a completely new and different challenge. Just as that which felt crushing one year ago is now completely a "non-thing", that which feels crushing today will be a "non-thing" in time.  It will work itself out. That is the nature of problems; they don't last forever.

But even when we know intellectually that a problem isn't permanent, it can still feel all-consuming when we are right in the thick of it.  Knowing it isn't forever doesn't change the present situation.  It doesn't lessen the current impact.  It doesn't mean the problem doesn't matter.  It does, however, provide a bit of perspective.  It can help to remember that, based on personal history of other problems that have resolved over time, it is statistically almost certain that "this too shall pass."

I have a pesky tendency to want to control everything in my life, to fix problems immediately, to erase pain, to get rid of whatever forces are contributing to the issue.  But sometimes I need to learn to just ride it out.  Lately I have been trying to live by the mantra of the Serenity Prayer:  "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."  I'm really good - probably a little TOO good - at having the courage to change (or fix, or control) things, but the serenity part and the discernment part could use a little work.  Worrying and attempting to control the uncontrollable is counterproductive, and will just result in frustration and feelings of defeat.

Even the biggest problems in our lives right now probably will no longer be relevant in six weeks, or six months, or a year.  They won't last forever.  Maybe they'll be replaced by different struggles, but then we'll have the benefit of more experience under our belt.

So as I consider my attitude and response to the problem-of-the-moment, which feels all-consuming and impossibly daunting today, I remember how horrible and pervasive my "one year ago" problem felt at the time.  There are parts of my life that I cannot control, and although they are frustrating, they also provide opportunity for learning and growth.  And they are not forever.  This too shall pass. 

Transitions and Growth: Reflections from the Outside

This spring, Seth and I attended a dance performance at Macalester College.  Our favorite piece was one entitled Transitions.  Watching it as an outsider, we were able to identify many things happening on stage that the dancers themselves were unable to see. When we are in the middle of a dance, it is inherently impossible to see ourselves - to see the big picture, or to see the intricacies. It is only by stepping back, and looking in on our lives, that we are able to really see growth - that we are able to see ourselves objectively. This applies not only to periods of transition, but to all phases of life.  We can't truly see and learn from them until we are on the outside, looking in.

With somewhere around 32 hours until next year, I have been doing a lot of thinking about, remembering of, and reflecting on 2014.  I wrote in my journal on January 2nd that "2013 was the year that I transitioned.  2014 will be the year that I reap the fruits of that transition."  For most of the year, I was disappointed because I didn't believe that I was living up to my prediction.  I thought that I was remaining stagnant, paralyzed by a lack of clarity as to what the "next step" should be.  But, as watching the dance taught us, sometimes it's difficult (or impossible) to see growth while it is happening.  We can only come to see it from the outside, after the fact, upon reflection.

I've spent the last couple of days pouring through my 2014 memories.  I have reviewed photos, videos, check-ins, Facebook timelines, journal entries, screenshots... all of the physical reminders of the year.  As I step back and look, as if from the outside in, I can see that I HAVE reaped the fruits of last year's transition.  I can see that I have developed confidence, self-awareness, and independence.  I can see that I have found a sense of hope for a bright future.  I can see that I have made true friends and let go of untrue friends.  I have learned that a solo night in is restorative and healthy, not an indicator of being unloved.  I have developed the perspective to walk with others through similar transitions, and know that they, too, will come out on the other side. I have learned that in order to be WITH someone who makes me happy, I must first BE someone who makes me happy.  I have come to terms with my bisexual identity, and the self-assuredness that this exists regardless of the gender of the person I am dating.  I have learned that our culture's indicators of success don't always line up with my personal values, and that does not mean that I have failed.  I have let go of a past that I know no longer belongs to me, and have phased out the anger and hurt that I had held onto for the entirety of 2013.

All of these 2014 lessons have been born out of diving head-first into my new life.  I took advantage of travel opportunities, cultivated new friendships and reconnected with old ones, accepted invitations, developed traditions, and processed through feelings and experiences - both negative and positive.  I can see all of this as I reflect on my stored memories of the year.  I am so grateful to live in a era of having a built-in digital time capsule. Storing memories is easy, and reviewing them is as simple as a click of a button.  I'm excited to look back on the year after more time has passed, when I can review its lessons from a further-out perspective, which no doubt will provide even more new insight.

As this year draws to an end, I strongly encourage everyone to take a step back to reflect on 2014.  Lessons learned, opportunities taken, teachable moments... they are all so much clearer looking back, looking in.  We can't always see the dance we are performing until after the curtain closes, but as we prepare for a new act in 2015, drawing on the grace and clumsiness of 2014 can be our strongest asset.

30 Days of Thankfulness Project: Part II

The second half of November flew by at the speed of light!  But I was able to take a few minutes each day to continue my 30 Days of Thankfulness Project.  Here are the things that I was thankful for over the past 15 days.  This has been such a valuable experience for me; taking a few minutes every day to reflect on the good things, big or small, is a great opportunity.  Highly recommended!

Day 16:
I am thankful for Minnesota seasons, which provide a chance to break up routines.  There are so many things we do in the summer that we'd never do in the winter, and vice versa.  Getting to experience the full gamut is something that is easy to take for granted during cold winters.

Day 17:
I am thankful to have things to look forward to in the coming weeks and months.  Having my sights on upcoming events makes it so much easier to get through the mundane days. I'm especially looking forward to a cruise in February to break up the long winter with a week of sun and warmth!

Day 18:
I am thankful for the start of "Family Dinner Club".  It was really nice to have a family-style dinner tonight with some of my closest friends, and to start a tradition of doing this regularly.  The idea of expanding the classic definition of family to include a chosen group of non-relatives has been really important to me in recent years, and family dinner is a wonderful way to appreciate that.

Day 19:
I am thankful for contrast today.  Days that are confusing, frustrating, or difficult are important, because they balance out days that are happy, joyful, and fulfilling. We need both in order to experience the full-spectrum of life, and we need the negative in order to really appreciate the positive.

Day 20:
I am thankful for the entertainment industry and for a chance to see Mockingjay tonight with Carl and company.  I have been enjoying movies my whole life, but rarely see them in theaters - and even MORE rarely go on opening night - so there is a feeling of nostalgic-excitement in doing so.

Day 21:
I am thankful for a new-found love of Podcasts!  I've been in the habit of listening to one broadcast each day on my walk home from work.  It's great to be able to use my commute time learning something or hearing someone's story.  It's also fun to be able to share my favorite Podcasts with friends, and vice versa.

Day 22:
I am thankful for a relatively warm day, and for a rejuvenating run with two of my running buddies, Ann and Erin.  I'm thankful for the many beautiful places to run in Minneapolis, for friends who respond to spontaneous invitations, and for the physical ability of running and moving my body.

Day 23:
I am thankful for lifelong friends. Yesterday, I had coffee with Erin, who has been a constant in my life for almost 20 years....  She knows every detail of my history, and vice versa.  Even though I only see her a few times a year now, there are still moments when we don't need to finish our sentences in order for the other to understand what we are saying.  There is a familiarity that can only really happen after decades of knowing someone.

Day 24:
I am also thankful for new friends. Tonight, I spent time with Eden and Scott, who I have only known for about a year but who have quickly become key people in my life.  It's not always easy to make new friends as an adult, and I am lucky enough to have found a number of new people in the past couple of years who have become fast friends that now I can't imagine living without.

Day 25:
I am thankful to live in a very gay-friendly city with a large LGBT population, and for a wide network of LGBTQA people in my life.  I am especially thankful for all those who have not only accepted me for who I am, but who have engaged in (probably what seems like endless) dialogue with me to help me figure out the most authentic version of myself.  I'm thankful that sexuality isn't static or binary.  I'm thankful for marriage equality in my state and in so many more states across the country this year.

Day 26:
I am thankful for access to health care.  It is easy to complain about dental and physical appointments - but the truth is that health care is something that I often take for granted, even though so many people live without it.  I'm also thankful for a clean bill of health, another thing that is not always certain for many people.

Day 27:
I am thankful for my family, and for spending time with them over the holiday.  Even though my family is small, we were still able to enjoy a nice Thanksgiving dinner together today.  I'm also thankful for Skype, which enabled us to spend some time "seeing" my sister Rebecca and her boyfriend in the afternoon.

Day 28:
I am thankful for relaxation.  The day after Thanksgiving is a university holiday at my job, so today I was able to sleep in, eat a relaxed brunch, and have a low-key "health day" with Seth.  I spend most of my time on the go, with every hour planned, but once in awhile a slower day is a really nice change of pace.

Day 29:
I am thankful for birthday celebrations!  Ever since I was young, I have loved celebrating birthdays, and I try to never miss a friend's birthday party.  I have a tradition of asking the birthday boy or girl to share some of the highlights of the year they've just lived, and some of the things they're looking forward to in the coming year.  By now, most of my friends roll their eyes a little when I begin this line of questioning, but most of them at least humor me by answering sincerely.

Day 30:
I am thankful to be able to express myself through writing.  Sometimes I can write about things that I wouldn't know how to say out loud.  Other times, getting words down on paper is the best way to really make sense of an experience or situation.  Writing is also my way of feeling like I have created something.