Feelings Hoarder

 Me: That’s okay, I’m a project person. 

 Two weeks later:

Step two: make yourself nonthreatening. In my case this meant being very quiet, bringing food and lying down on the ground within his eyesight as an invitation to investigate.

Step three: watch his body language and don’t do things that make him uncomfortable. Turns out my cat often bit when he was overstimulated so I made sure not to overwhelm him.

Step four: draw lines, but not with brute force. Even though his biting wasn’t meant to hurt, I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t injure anyone in the future. So I decided when he bit me, I’d yelp “ow!” And then withdraw all physical contact for a few minutes, sometimes leaving the room. Now he never bites, but sometimes he puts his teeth on my hand and then thinks better of it.

Step five: provide a good outlet for destructive behaviors. Aka PLAY WITH HIM, SEVERAL TIMES A DAY.

Step six: be patient.

this is emmett and cullen they are best friends

I remember the power I felt in claiming the labels I first used to define myself, in throwing off the assumptions of cisheteronormativity. I remember being 17 and still afraid to say the words “lesbian” or “gay” out loud, much less “trans” or “genderqueer” or “demisexual” or “queer”.

I was so afraid and yet so proud.

And I remember badly wanting to fit in and be accepted by the little corner of the LGBT community I had access to. So I learned the language; did the tough talk; internalized a lot of Tumblr Approved™ things about LGBT identities; and changed labels so that I was in-line with the popular discourse, so that the harassment in my inbox would stop, so that I wouldn’t feel as hurt by the relentless mocking of people like me by people who were supposed to understand my struggle.

Around eight years, I’ve been a part of the Tumblr LGBT community.

I’ve seen so much infighting, so much harassment, so much gatekeeping, so many lies, so much identity policing, so much arrogance.

I’ve been told many times who I’m not allowed to be, I’ve been told more times that people like me aren’t real, aren’t valid, don’t matter, will never belong. I have seen so many attempts to erase people like myself, even as we fight to be seen.

At some point, I have to choose me.

And I will.

And I am.

If I could hand down one piece of advice to 17 year old me, it would be this: