Blessing or a Curse?

A few months ago I was made aware of the possibility of getting a large sum of money that I owe forgiven. Without going into all the details it all relied on the presence of a medical history and current day condition. What a tortured feeling it was to be offered forgiveness on nearly 85,000 dollars only because you are identified as being disabled. There is conflicted energy in that for me.

From one point of view I am ecstatic at the prospect of 85,000 pounds of weight being lifted from my shoulders. But on the other hand, accepting this generous gift and what some might call a miracle also relies on my acceptance of my health circumstance and history; being labeled permanently disabled. Ugh!

I try so hard to live a normal life but when I look at how my days have been since the onset of the “disability” I am aware of the huge difference in my days. I am aware that while I am grateful to be alive I get frustrated by my exhaustion. I am aware that I love my ability to dream and fantasize but I get saddened when it’s hard for me to understand the world around me. I am open and willing to experience love in my life but fearful of the prospect of rejection because of my limitations. Yes, I am aware that those limitations all spring forth from my own scared and frightened awareness that my life could end suddenly and there are so many things I still want to experience.

So why is it that I have not seized this opportunity for renewed life and accepted a new phase of experience from a differently-abled existence? Why is that I think and ponder, fantasize and agonize to the point of paralyzing myself from getting out into the world and experiencing it all?

I will tell you why. Because I am fearful that it will all be taken away from me again.

The same reason that when contacted about the forgiveness of an enormous amount of debt I kept my mouth shut and barely told a soul. Because I was fearful that if too many people found out about it would somehow be taken away from me and I would once again be burdened with 85,000 pounds of weight on my shoulders.

85,000 pounds, the love of my life, building a home, creating a great career, enjoying my life, celebrating each day, seizing every moment; it may sound corny to some or inspirational to others. But to me, it sounds absolutely horrifying.

I want that to change.

Boarded up, pent up, and locked up with no desire to release from the shackles. Locks, chains and gags tightened with my own grip searing pain through the emotional carcass of life. Handling my struggles and insecurities like a butcher on a rampage; is there no end in sight? For today I remain sequestered by the hideous monster within my thoughts. Crouching and wincing at its horrid perception of the man I have become I await a time that I can hear beyond the voices in my head and see a better vision of myself.

I do? I think...a dream I had last night.

Janet proposed to me and I accepted. It was her big day and I stepped back and let her make all the preparations for the wedding. There was something about the upcoming affair that didn’t seem right to me but I continued to support her. She was beautiful after all I would be a fool to deny her. My only responsibility was to dress myself, get the tuxedo. That was easy enough since my good friend had purchased a tuxedo for me last year for a fundraising event. Everything was working out fine for the wedding which meant I could focus on moving. At this point I had boxed up, wrapped and packaged all my belongings. They were all in storage conveniently located in the basement of the church.

The big day was here and Tony was on my mind. The beautiful blond athlete from high school that Janet held a torch for, well and so did I. I knew he would be there and I was excited to see how our coming together would work out. I mean coming together as Husband, Wife and Husband. Yes, it’s true. Janet had proposed to both of us. We would ALL be consummating the relationship on our wedding night. I could not help but think that poor Janet would be left all alone in the bridal bed of passion that night. But those thoughts were for later. Right now I was running late; I had to find my tux. Ravaging through the storage boxes I was delighted to discover that the shirt, vest and jacket fit perfectly. I looked handsome so far. Oddly, my vest which I remembered to be jet black in color like the rest of my tux was colored pumpkin. It didn’t matter much to me. That would set me apart from Tony, the conservative husband-to-be and was sure to let him know that I would be playing a very special role for him in our new found union.

The time had come and I was being called for the ceremony. Just then I pulled on the tuxedo pants only to find that not only did they fit like a dream but they were made of green faux fur. Hmm, I did not remember my tuxedo being designed by Elton John. I scrambled through my storage closet with desperate attempts to find the matching pants. I was sure that Janet and Tony would rethink this arrangement if I showed up in green faux fur pants, a pumpkin colored vest with my tuxedo jacket. Luckily there was a men’s clothing store attached my storage unit and the manager scurried to fit me into a nice fitted pair of tuxedo pants. The ceremony was held up for a few minutes but Janet and Tony did not seem to mind.

The receiving line at the reception was very odd. I did not recognize anyone in the wedding part and strangely enough, Janet was nowhere to be found. But Tony and I grazed the buffet line together; smiling at another, serving another. I knew this would be a good arrangement when Tony automatically ladled gravy onto my mash potatoes.

Thank you, Tony!

Janet who?

What a day. I woke up this morning feeling half alive. As I wandered to the bathroom my only concern was how quickly I could get back into bed and fall back asleep. Not just another Thursday though. This past weekend I lost my wallet. I still have no idea how it happened but I have resigned to the fact that it is gone and it was time to get a new drivers license. So I ventured out after my long morning in bed. Can you believe I did not leave the house until 11:32AM and I still had not showered? I thought it would not make much a difference seeing that GA department of drivers uses the same photo from the last license. Well I was wrong about that. So now my swollen, puffy “I slept too much” and have been chronically physically miserable the last month face has been immortalized on my drivers license as a constant reminder of how low I have sunk on this Thursday. Of course this is just one Thursday, out of several thousand that I have lived and I am hopeful that next Thursday I will feel and look better and most definitely have a better attitude towards life. At least I hope I do.

But amidst my exhaustion I managed to install my new wall mounted mailbox and neatly labeled it with my name and apt number. I think this is my first mailbox with my name on it. I wonder if that means I am growing up? Nah, probably not. Putting my name on the mailbox reminder me too much like cub scouts. Playing with stickers is hardly an adult actively.

When is it time to let go?

Over 3 weeks ago I met a guy from facebook. Both times we spent time together seemed a little magical. He was cute, courteous, respectful and engaging; conversation was never at a stalemate. He told me all the things I would want a guy to tell me on a first couple dates. He liked me, thought I was funny, cute and he even went as far to tell me he thought I was beautiful!

Beautiful! Now that is a big step in my book. When a gay man tells another man that he thinks he is beautiful that leads me to believe that he seems them for more than just their outer exterior. He is not just objectifying the meat suit; he is taking into account the whole person. Beauty is an adjective used to describe majestic landscape and personalities like Mother Theresa and Martin Luther King. Beautiful in my eyes is an awareness of a persons Spirit and Soul and that leads me to believe there is a higher connection. He called me beautiful. Now there has been one other time that a man called me beautiful and that did not turn out so well but learning from the past and not paralyzing myself from the past has been my focus. So I decided to accept his compliment with a smile and assumed that he was really into getting to know me.

So over the course of the 5 days after our last date I called once, texted him twice and emailed with absolutely no response or even recognition of my efforts to connect with him. Hmmmm, could this wonderful guy that seemed to have his shit together be just a new version of the same old crap I meet masked in a more polished and refined package? Did I somehow I fall prey to another man that gets off and telling me everything I want to hear and really meaning or believing a damn word of it?

Flash forward to a whole 7 days after our date. He spots me on facebook and decides to instant message, apologizing profusely and extending his concern that I might be upset with him for not connecting with me beforehand. Well of course I do not want to let on that I have been internally tortured by his lack of interest seeing that I felt a great connection with him and that he was someone very special that I wanted to get to know. We chatted for a few minutes online relieving him of his guilt for not picking up the phone.

But for me, running into me online and instant messaging me was not the type of effort I was hoping for. Yes it was nice, but if I had not signed on at that moment I might have never heard back from him. And I don’t think the beginnings of a dating situation should rely solely upon online interaction as the main form of getting to know another, Call me crazy but I want more; a phone call, a coffee date, cuddle time, a walk in the park. I want face to face time where we both have to make plans to see another.

So instead of torturing myself of the man that he “could” be in my life I decided to accept him for the man he was; a really great date that I would love to see again but would no longer question his motives and just let it be. I deleted his phone number from my cell to stop myself from calling again since that tactic in the past produced no response and I moved on. I guess he is just not that into me. It happens.

But I did need some closure. So a week ago I sent him one last email. It said…

“I really enjoyed spending time with you and I would like to do it again. If you feel the same way, call me.”

And I left my number in case he lost it! (Preparing for all possibilities of why he never returned my call in the first place)

It felt good to be honest and upfront. I said my peace and I was able to move on. After 3 days I gave up and let it go. Decided it was time to accept the fact that he was not interested and for whatever reason told me he was but in reality was not really. But surprisingly after a full 7days from that email I get an email from him telling me how sorry he is that it took so long to get back to me. He wanted to know what my schedule was next week because he was going out of town and would not be back until then and would like to see me. He promised to call me so we could make plans and hoped I was doing well.

So when is it really time to let go? Maybe my habit of jumping into relationship and opportunities is biting me in the ass right now because this experience has certainly made me think that I am super needy.

I still stick to my guns on the phone call part. I do not think that an instant message is anyway near the same message to someone as taking the time out to dial the phone, hear their voice and spend some quality time talking.

I am not going to let this one guy for awhile, I am learning a lot from his snail pace. I am not going to sit on the sofa and wait for him, but the voodoo doll can still in the closet for now.

A lot has transpired since I took the time out to write. I am not sure where to begin. I have moved to a new apartment this past month and it feels pretty good so far. Do you realize that I have been a shelf dweller for over 15 years of my life? Shelf dwelling is essential apartment living. And not that there is anything wrong with apartment living outside of the occasional nuisance of upstairs or downstairs noise but there is something about being grounded with my feet touching the earth that soothes me.

The last place I lived in was a 4^th floor walk up. Now that was great for my glutes and I have the compliments to prove it. Of course genetics come into play there too. I lived in that complex for nearly 5 years and developed some nice community friendships and relations while I was there. One even had the workings of a great porno with a FedEx driver that lived in the next building. He always delivered right on time for me. But alas that is over and done. The anonymity of a large corporate complex is no longer my experience. My comings and goings are no longer masked by the large parking lot and wide open breezeways with little accountable to each resident.

Today I live in a fabulous in-law suite or ground-level apartment in a beautiful home in Ansley Park. When I pull into the driveway I walk directly into my home with only one step to manage. I walk on the earth now without several layers of shelved concrete, building materials and other people’s energy and lives intermingling with the good nature of my connection to mother earth. There is no fear of falling off the balcony as I no longer have one and the heat from Atlanta sunshine is now masked by majestic trees surrounding the house. This is a good place for me. I realize that I need to start cycling and keeping up with my work outs because I do not want to test my genetics; without all those stairs to climb my glutes might need some extra attention.