I was reminded of a dark time in my life today. A very troubling and painful time. Four years ago, I was dealing with the myriad of emotions that some of us experience after coming-out. It was perhaps, the most challenging time of my life.
Most of my regrets, my anger, my fears... were all self-directed. I was one self-loathing pitiful mess. But my life began to turn around, and slowly... ever so slowly, the pain... the fear... the regrets... all faded away. Something had happened to me from within that brought me hope.
That hope was a result of recognizing that within each of us lies a hero. I had found mine. His name?
Mark Bingham.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
All is well.
I haven't been my usual blogging self lately, and quite frankly, I haven't cared one bit. Seems that in the past month or so, my life has taken on new energies, and the thought of sitting in front of a computer and banging-out entries was the farthest thing from my mind.
The meeting with the parental unit with Joe on my arm went splendidly well. I didn't sense anyone being uncomfortable in the least, and the visit was quite enjoyable. Mom and Dad live an hour north of Little Rock on a beautiful hillside overlooking the foothills of the Boston and Ozark Mountains, and we spent the afternoon hours of that day picking vegetables in their garden, and preparing a dinner that consisted mostly of those items. Tomatoes, squash, corn, green beans, purple hull peas. Mom sent us home with plenty of fresh okra and Texas sweet onions. Joe and I both LOVE fresh onion. Quarter up a couple of them, and they go with whatever. Add a few fresh garden tomatoes, and I'm in heaven. My sister Kathy dropped by for a short visit before we headed back home that evening.
It was one of those moments in my life when I was proud of my family. Very proud. As a middle-age adult, I now appreciate more and more the fact that I was raised by grounded and reasonable parents. Once I thought otherwise, but of course I was coming of age and thought I knew everything I needed to know. Gosh, was I wrong.
Perhaps my parents are learning from me as well?
The meeting with the parental unit with Joe on my arm went splendidly well. I didn't sense anyone being uncomfortable in the least, and the visit was quite enjoyable. Mom and Dad live an hour north of Little Rock on a beautiful hillside overlooking the foothills of the Boston and Ozark Mountains, and we spent the afternoon hours of that day picking vegetables in their garden, and preparing a dinner that consisted mostly of those items. Tomatoes, squash, corn, green beans, purple hull peas. Mom sent us home with plenty of fresh okra and Texas sweet onions. Joe and I both LOVE fresh onion. Quarter up a couple of them, and they go with whatever. Add a few fresh garden tomatoes, and I'm in heaven. My sister Kathy dropped by for a short visit before we headed back home that evening.
It was one of those moments in my life when I was proud of my family. Very proud. As a middle-age adult, I now appreciate more and more the fact that I was raised by grounded and reasonable parents. Once I thought otherwise, but of course I was coming of age and thought I knew everything I needed to know. Gosh, was I wrong.
Perhaps my parents are learning from me as well?
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