Love is love.

I didn’t grow up in a loving, happy home with two straight parents who loved each other unconditionally. It was dysfunctional, scary and hard. I was mainly raised by my mother, who worked hard every day to give us the things we needed and to create a happy, loving home. I still spent time with my dad, but he was never there for us, emotionally. However, the one thing both my parents did agree on was that you always treat others the way you would want to be treated. So with that, and my parent’s unhealthy relationship, the idea that gay couples in loving relationships getting married is somehow going to ruin marriage and what family means, was completely incomprehensible to me. I’ve been a huge supporter of gay rights since I was old enough to truly understand it all. And my logic and upbringing always spoke to me: you treat others the way you would want to be treated and some things are just right or wrong; black or white. When I developed relationships with people in the gay community, this became even more evident to me. These are people. People who love, dream, hope, and live like everyone else. When the gay marriage bill appeared before the floor of the Senate in St. Paul, I listened in on the conversation (or argument, at times). It went back and forth, supporters speaking and people against it speaking. My heart wavered, as the people speaking against it spoke with what felt like such ignorance, anger and hate in their hearts. I couldn’t comprehend living in a state where this exists so strongly and I had to believe that Minnesota would come out on the right side of history. I found myself holding my breath at times, waiting to hear what the next speaker would say, if they would speak ignorantly or if they would really understand what it was all about. In my core, I had to believe that Minnesota was going to stand with equality, and that eventually the rest of the country would soon follow. What kind of world are we living in, if we don’t head in this direction? If we don’t stand for equality and the pursuit of happiness for all people? The thoughts consumed me and really scared me to the point of nausea. When it passed, I felt like I could breath again and my faith in humanity and my faith in Minnesota was restored. Now in Minnesota, people in loving, committed relationships are able to solidify their commitment in front of their friends & family, legally for the first time. Some of these people have been in relationships for years, and even already had weddings & commitment ceremonies that weren’t recognized by the state. Now this recognition exists. And even though this recognition has always existed for me, as a straight person, I couldn’t be happier for these people. Because that age-old saying always applies whether on the streets of Minneapolis, or in the eyes of the law: treat others as you would want to be treated.

A new kind of loss

I've experienced a number of changes in my life over the past three months. The one thing I didn't expect to change was my employment status. In August, I was offered an amazing position. I felt honored to be chosen. I felt like my career was finally starting, I finally would make enough money to be comfortable. Everyone seemed great... at first. A group of wonderful women were on my team, supportive and sweet, so it seemed. I was new to the field and had a lot to learn. This type of writing was not something I had ever done before and I felt they knew there was a learning curve. The training process was minimal, I was basically thrown into the work on my second day on the job. Unfortunately, I experienced a lot of life changes, including the loss of a loved one and I missed a few days of work. After that happened, I was under a microscope. I was expected to always be in the office, to never leave early, and to never work from home. Suddenly I felt like I was being treated like an hourly employee, fresh out of college, rather than the experienced professional I am. My confidence dropped, every mistake I made felt like another piece of straw that would eventually, break the camel's back. Although my simple writing mistakes were a learning curve in my eyes, each and every one was filed and put away...another negative piece of feedback to add to the pile. On what seemed like a normal day at the office, only 3 1/2 months into my position, I got ready to meet with my boss for our weekly one-on-one. She acted like it was a regular day, brought her usual notebook and made her usual small talk. This time we met in the conference room down the hall, usually it was in someone's empty office, where we could speak privately. When I walked in, the head of the department and an HR rep sat in the room, waiting. That's when I knew. My boss had given up on me. She proceeded to tell me that my employment had been terminated, effective immediately. I was to take my things and go home. I couldn't look her in the eye, because I just felt so angry. I felt unfairly judged, not given a fair chance, and most importantly, totally blindsided. They gave me 4 weeks of pay to make up for the unexpectedness, the blindsiding, the fake encouragement. It didn't help. Over the next few days, I went over my every move in my head and tried to figure out what I could have done differently. I'm a good writer, I got positive feedback from everyone on the team, from clients, and even from my boss. I made a few mistakes, but I felt that was expected, not ever being in this field before. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it just wasn't a good fit for me. I struggled to impress my boss from the very beginning; to connect with her professionally and personally. It was like talking to a wall most of the time. She didn't want to offer personal conversation and I experienced very little professional talk and feedback. She just didn't like me. Just a week before this happened, I asked her what I could do to be a better employee, what could I do to be successful? She said, "Just be here. Continue to be here." I should have known then that she had already made up her mind about me. I had been there. I had been there every day. I stayed late when I needed to, I got the work done, never missed a deadline. Nothing I could say or do would have changed her mind about me. So, now I struggle with how to deal with this new kind of loss. I have never been let go of a job before, in my 15 years of working. I've always had a job. It makes you doubt yourself in every aspect, your skills as a professional and yourself as a person overall. It's a huge blow to the ego. I struggle to find confidence to perform well in my future positions, as well as to find that connection with your coworkers, who you spend a majority of your time during the week with. I doubt my personality, my way of handling things, my writing skills, everything. I've had nightmares about my boss, that feeling of trying to push through a wall that will never budge. I feel angry, I feel sad, I feel shocked, I feel doubtful about my future. I've heard from others how this goes and how it feels, I just never expected it to happen to me. All I can do is pick up the pieces and try to move on from this experience. But it really is a new kind of loss; one I never expected and still am trying to navigate through. I'm still digging through the damage of this experience, trying to find the reason behind it. It's there, I just can't see it yet. Some day I will look back and be thankful my boss made this choice. Right now, it's just a bunch of blurred feelings and reasoning. All in due time.

The thing about love songs...

I've come to a realization about love songs.  They used to invoke this emotion in me, leaving me feeling sad, lonely and confused.  Particularly, Adele's song, "Someone Like You,"  and all songs about those brokenhearted and searching for love.  That song, especially, used to kill me, every time I heard it.  I felt like I couldn't breathe when I heard that song, all kinds of feelings welling up inside of me.  It was like that song was about every single person I had ever dated, and how they all had broken my heart.  But some day, I would find someone.  I ached for that.

Recently, the song came on the radio, while I rode in my car alone.  I cranked up the sound and waited to feel that same heart-wrenching, lump-in-my-throat emotion.  But what I felt was relief.  The song didn't make me feel emotional anymore.  It made me feel happy for once.  Because I finally had found that special someone.  Not just Adele's song in particular, but all of the cheesy, lonely, love songs used to make me feel so upset. And usually, I'd feel emotional about the particular douche bag I was pining over at the moment.  Hoping that some day, they would feel that same emotion for me.  It never happened, and I knew it wouldn't.  None of them ever truly saw me for me. 

And at the time, when I was listening to these songs, did I ever really think I would listen to them one day and not feel those same tough feelings?  Absolutely not.  I had hoped for it, but I don't think I really believed it myself.  But I had to believe that being in love meant never feeling lonely; never waiting anxiously for the other person to say what you always wanted to hear.  And it certainly wasn't tossing and turning in bed while your "significant other" chatted and flirted with other girls on Facebook in the next room.  Or finding someone else's underwear in your "significant other's" bed after making love to him.

I'm not sure why it took me so long to realize that none of those things are love.  I'm not sure why I thought that I could make these men love me.  It should always come naturally.  I made a vow to myself a long time ago that I wouldn't be with someone who didn't love me for who I was; someone who was always honest and open with me, even when we disagreed.  And I found that person.  It came so suddenly and unexpectedly, but that is what love is.  It's patient but comes when you least expect it.  It's hard but always worth it.  It's rewarding and fulfilling, even on the hard days.

I still love those songs that used to make me feel so lonesome.  But they don't make me feel lonely anymore.  Those songs are for someone else now.