My Irrational Fear of Teeth

Ever since I’ve realized I’m bisexual, I’ve developed an irrational fear of wisdom teeth.

Wait, what?

I’m terrified of getting my wisdom teeth for fear that I will accidentally out myself while under anesthetic. I don’t know if that’s ever happened to anyone else, but it’s bound to happen to me. As some of you know, I live in a conservative Christian household and any form of homosexuality is looked down upon. (If you’d like to read an entire post of what that is like, click here) My only guardian that would take me to the dentist for the procedure is my mom. Again, she doesn’t know about my sexuality. Thankfully, I don’t have to have the removed immediately, but I will have to eventually. Hopefully by then I have a friend who can be my chauffeur for the day.

Overcoming (and Avoiding) Obstacles

For the past few months I’ve been on a slippery slope of depression. My mom has become extremely outspoken about her opposition to the LGBT community, and it is making me sick to the core. Every night I can’t help but wonder if she would still love me, and would want to continue communication with me. I can almost feel the negative response through my bones as I shake underneath my pile of blankets. During the first few weeks all I could do was cry, or feel like sobbing my eyes out. Now it’s just a dull feeling pain, and only stings when she herself provokes it.

I’ve already accepted myself for who I am, why can’t she? I know why she can’t: because she was raised to despise any other sexuality except heterosexual. She was brought up in such a strict household of going to church every single Sunday, that she thinks she is better than those who love the same-sex.

I can’t keep on recovering from her blows with Macklemore songs and coming out videos. I don’t have the privilege of being able to call the Trevor hotline because I don’t have the privacy to do so. My friends can only help me so much when they themselves don’t fully understand what I’m going through.

I’m in my current residence with my mom and stepdad for the next 9 months. Before anyone gets scared about suicidal tendencies in me, I have hope for the future. I do not want to kill myself. All I know is, I need help to get through this. I just don’t know how to get it. Anything that any of you may have to give me advice about, it’s more appreciated than you’ll ever know.

Thank you,

Hannah

Indirectly & Involunarily Coming Out to Someone Close to You

A few months ago something happened that was not under my own control: I came out as bisexual to my dad.

My dad has always been supportive (to my knowledge) of the LGBT+ community. (Also sorry about not including the rest of the acronym, but I swear it just keeps getting longer every time I see it mentioned in a post) His philosophy was “if it doesn’t hurt anyone or involve me directly in any way, I don’t care about it”. Keep in mind that I live in the South, and things can get pretty homophobic down here. So when I heard his opinions on it, I wasn’t all that worried about telling him.

I worked up the nerve over the process of about a year of visits to speak my opinions about the LGBT community. From time to time I would bring it up, according to news reports and the like.By doing this I actually grew closer to my dad and Julia, his fiancee.

When victory at the Supreme Court came around, I had already come out to Julia. It was on that day exactly that she told my father that I’m “gay”. In her own retelling of the event, she and my dad were sitting in the living room watching the news report on it. My dad remarked “I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, they’re just getting married. *Insert comment reflecting his own views about marriage thanks to his failed ones*” This is when my stepmom replies, “Well, it wouldn’t hurt for you to be more supportive.” My dad proceeds to go have a smoke break, then comes back in and asks her “Is Hannah gay?” And she replies, “Yes”.

I can’t express to you how much that bothers me because of how untrue it is. I’m bisexual. If I was gay, I would have come out to the 15+ people in my life as that. However, I am not.

She told me all of what happened around 2 weeks after it occurred because that was the next time I was to come over. She was so excited, and didn’t want me to freak out about it. But I was anything except ecstatic. I wasn’t ready to come out to my dad, and I gave her specific instructions not to tell him because I wanted to tell him myself. She even went outside with me to see how it all would play out. Looking back, I know I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I should have told her that I just wanted it to be him and me. She already had the stolen honor of telling him the first time, why should she be there again?

When I finally go outside and meet my dad, all the while choking on my tongue and having an anxiety attack inside, I give him the longest hug I probably ever have given to him, and I correct her crucial mistake. I tell him that I am, in fact, bisexual and like girls and boys. “That’s fine,” he says. He goes on to say how he always sort of knew. I don’t recall what else he said because I blacked out like I’ve done in the past in coming out to people close to me.

I think the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard my dad comment about my sexuality was uttered that day: “Besides, aren’t those Converse high tops lesbian shoes?”

Skipping forward to last Friday, mid-Bible class:

My Bible teacher gave us the simple assignment of thanking someone who has raised us. I sent messages to my mom, grandma, Julia, my other grandparents, and my dad. My message to my dad and Julia is as follows:

“Thank y’all so much for loving me and accepting all of me. It means the world to me that y’all support me, and it keeps me going when things are tough. Everything is fine, but I just wanted to let y’all know that. I love y’all so much. Have an awesome day 🙂 <3”

My dad’s response left me in a puddle of tears in my school’s bathroom:

“Thank you, baby. That made my day. I’m so proud of you and always will be, and nothing will ever change that. I LOVE YOU.”

With the lack of confidence I have in my mom accepting my coming out, It’s incredible to hear that my dad does. My advice to people coming out is this: create a support group of people who love you regardless, then work your way up to the challenging ones. I can’t tell you anything about facing the hard ones, though, because I still have my own lions to tame.

I still can’t say I’m completely convinced that my dad believes in my bisexuality as much as he does my false homosexuality. All I’m saying is, if I come home with a guy for him to meet, it’ll be his own fault if he’s shocked half to death.

The American Dream: A Split Second Lifestyle

Today my family ate at the dinner table per my mom’s request.

Shocker! Right? No? Okay.

Let me explain:

As a kid, I was raised by my grandma and my single mother. Every night we would eat dinner with my grandma’s current husband also. It was a very small house, but the amount of land my family owned on the property partially made up for it. Until my mother got married to my current stepdad, I shared a bedroom with my mom. A 10 x 10 room with a teenager isn’t a good situation to be in on either side of the problem. We weren’t the typical American family, but really who is?

Whenever we moved into my stepdad’s house I got my own room. This was one of the only perks provided to me in dealing with living with him for the past 3 years. Since we moved into the house my mom has this visual of the American dream. Let me tell you from my own experience, it doesn’t last very long. My mom hasn’t had a job in around 7 years, so her first resort was to be a homemaker. In no way am I criticizing that, though. She does more daily than I could ever do. Her second step into this American dream ideal was to generally become the perfect housewife. That’s when I realized she went a bit mental.

Skipping forward to Sunday, my step-grandmother’s birthday:

My mom suggested we sit at the table like we usually do for big holidays or birthday parties. I understand why she wanted to do this, and I was completely fine with it. That is, until I realized I’d have to socialize with a couple of members of my step-family. My step-grandma is a very religious woman. She’s a holiness pentecostal woman, and if that doesn’t tell you enough about her then I don’t know what will. (If you’ve never heard of the denomination of the Christian faith, let me explain: she believes that women shouldn’t cut thier hair, wear pants, or wear makeup. She believes in speaking in foreign tongues and the holy ghost. Lastly, and most irritating of all in my opinion, she thinks that wives should submit to their husbands.)

She soon began to drone on and on about how a woman experienced a medical miracle, and how the son of a bitch (in my own words) doctor became a holy vessel of God and began praising His name.

All the while this was going on, my stepdad was existing. I can’t tell you how much I despise him, honestly. On a side note, just to explain how douchey he is, he just sat there while my mom struggled in picking up a humongous weed-eater. Keep in mind that my mom has shoulder problems and could have inflamed it worse.

Maybe this isn’t the American dream she thought she was getting into after all.

A Brief Backstory

First of all, let me give a HUGE thank you to the people who have liked or commented on my last post. You have no idea how good it makes me feel to have someone reading these. The amount of support that you all have shown me in only the past 24 hours has given me hope and brightened my week. In honor of the first five blog posts I’ve done, I’m going to be completely real and honest here. No censorship or lies on this blog. I’ll be telling you guys the whole truth, and hopefully you’ll stick along for the ride and learn some things about me.

In the theme of getting to know one another, I’m going to re-introduce myself. As in, give you my backstory, interests… just consider this an About Me page (is that a page I can already write in on wordpress? I’m trying to get the hang of this). I grew up (well, am growing up) in a strict conservative household that went to church every Sunday morning, and shamed anything out of social norms. Eventually my mom stopped going to church for reasons unknown to me, so I started going with my grandmother. These two women brought me up in my childhood home until I was 14. We weren’t poor, but we certainly weren’t well to do. We always had what was needed. I love my grandmother more than anyone on this earth. She’s like a mother to me, and even took that job while my own mother was working. My mom and dad split up right before my 5th birthday, and never were married. The real kicker is that my dad’s parents were (are) Holiness Pentecostal churchgoers, and just about shunned him once they found out I was being born. To be honest, my dad and I are like the black sheep of the family reunions because of it (and because neither of us go to church anywhere). My dad and I haven’t always had the best relationship throughout the years, but we’ve grown much closer over the past 3 years. I’ve been spending more time with him, and I don’t feel like a burden to him anymore.

During middle school my mom started dating my now stepdad. I can’t say I ever liked him after the first few visits. I wanted my mom to be happy, though, so I kept quiet. I can easily say the past 5 years have been hell for me. I won’t get too much into their relationship because it gets my blood boiling, but I’m sure I’ll have many stories about him that I’ll vent about in this blog.

I’m skipping around a bit, but stay with me here. A week after my 5th birthday, on a mother’s day, my grandfather died (my mom’s dad). A bad back surgery and a lot of esophigial problems killed him. I still miss him to this day, but he’s influenced me more than anyone else I’ve ever known. Eventually I want to get a tattoo of one of his guitar picks over my heart. He was a welder, a carpenter, a musician, and an all-around completely loved man. He’s my hero to this day, and I’ll always cherish the short time I had with him.

Now onto the present and who I am today… I’m a senior in high school, and want to become a pastry chef with every fiber of my being. I’m bisexual and have been coming out to my friends since October of last year. My family doesn’t know about my sexuality as of yet. I’m an atheist and have had atheistic beliefs for around 3 years now. I’m sure that I’ll share my ‘realization of my sexuality’ story eventually. I love reading, and the classics are my favorites along with YA fiction scattered around within it. I enjoy listening to classic rock, and one of my best-loved bands is CCR. I’m not that good at art, but I try my best. Maybe I’ll even give you guys a look into my portfolio class drawings.

Thank you for listening to me ramble on about myself and my interest. I’d love to get to know all of you, and would love if you could comment on this post telling me your own story. To all of you, let this be but an excerpt of what is to come.

REREADING THIS TWO YEARS AFTER POSTING: Hannah I know you think it’s the cool thing to not believe in God and all, but girl you never stopped believing. Stop lying to yourself.

REREADING THIS 6 YEARS AFTER POSTING:

Past Hannah, both of you, calm the hell down. Your views on religion have changed constantly. Here in the year 2021, you identify most with Agnosticism. I know you both wanna be high and mighty because of immaturity or just ignorance, but it’s okay to change your mind. Love you both. 💜