Bisexual

And in Denial

I'm bisexual, but there was a time, not too long ago, where I would've told you there's no one straighter than me. I was raised Christian, yes, that kind of Christian. The kind that says homosexuality is a sin. Of course, as a child, this didn't bother me. I thought of my parents' word as God's word, as children do. Especially isolated rural Appalachian children.

Yet, as I grew into a young woman with a budding sexuality--which I recall starting as early as eleven-years-old--I noticed myself drawn to girls the same way I was boys. And it killed me inside.

Age twelve, I began to draw more intimate art. Mostly of my own characters, as I've always been obsessed with my own creations. I would draw boys and girls, that I considered "normal stuff." When I'd draw boys and boys and girls and girls, I used to call it "creepy stuff." Yes, "creepy stuff." I don't know why I called it that, and I felt guilty for drawing it, but didn't stop.

I recall always enjoying drawing sexy girls, my family was upset by this, they didn't approve. I would draw women in very little clothing, I used to think of it as making them appear stronger and cooler--I just liked it. Though at first I didn't completely understand what I was doing or why I was doing it.

The Teenage Years

I remember seeing a girl once, and staring at her, maybe a little too much, regretfully. I thought she was beautiful. I was thirteen. She might've been a few years older. I really wanted to talk to her, but was way too shy, and I knew she'd probably think I was a total weirdo. Especially because I was having all these confusing feelings.

When I got home, I recall confiding in some other kids I was talking to online and telling them how I couldn't stop thinking about this girl and I didn't know what to do and felt so weird and wrong for it. Someone a little older than me told me something comforting, but I can't remember clearly what it was. I do remeber them telling me it was okay, and to not worry about it so much. Still, I worried about it very, very much.

I would write in my notebooks (which I used more as sketchbooks with occaisonal musings) about how wrong and guitly and terrible I felt about everything. I felt guilty about having sexual feelings at all. I felt guilty about looking at NSFW drawings of cartoon characters I liked. I felt guilty about the distorted sexuality I could no longer run from. And I felt guilty about liking girls. I tried so hard to repress it. I used to obsess over it, anxiously.

I would constantly look stuff up online trying to find out how to make sexuality just . . . stop.

Of course, that is impossible, as I very quickly learned.

At some point, around age fifteen, I got pretty good and pushing it all down, temporarily. It'd pop right back up even more intense than before because I'd been neglecting an important facet of existence--sex.

Not just the act, but everything that sex encompasses in a human. You know them. We all know them.

Young Adult on the Brink of Suicide

Starting as a teen, I developed suicidal thoughts. Into young adulthood they only grew worse as they continued on untreated. My depression compounded, and my anxiety flew off the charts. I gave up on the world. Didn't go to college; barely held down a part time job. I didn't want to live at all, so, in my head, what was the point in preparing for the future? I felt as if I wasn't made for this world, and often still do feel that way. Though I've found better coping skills, and my support system is sturdier.

It was around age eighteen that I began to proclaim my steady straightness to my family--and it wasn't hard to believe either. I really do like men. Very much. Perhaps I even have a preference for them. This only made me feel more guilty for having feelings towards women. I felt guilty about being a stereotype. Just another hetero-leaning-bi-woman, right? How uninspiring, how uncool, how unfeminist.

It was easier to just say, "I'm straight." Even now, I feel guilty about the label, and I've considered taking all of the bi-pride buttons and blinkies off of my site so I can share it with my mom and dad without fear that they'll see and say something about it. Or for them to be disapointed with me for it. Part of me thinks they suspect it anyway. At the very least I know my dad would comment on it just being a phase, it being a sin, it being caused by influence from leftists. I don't want to hurt my relationship with my dad. I love my dad, despite any outdated views he may hold.

I don't want to cause a rift with my mom either. It's easier if I'm just straight. I wish I was just straight.

Current Day

I formed a crush on two women I know who are dating each other, and it does drive me a little crazy, but I'm happy for them as they seem very happy together. A feel a little melancholic seeing their relationship because I so desperately yearn for such a thing. But of course I don't intrude on them, and will never ask either anything about anything, as I know most people aren't exactly looking for a polycule. It aches a little, but I'm okay.

One night, I got very, very, very drunk--wasted even. I was home, crying, talking to my younger sister who gracefully dealt with my drunk ass. I ended up confessing to her about my crush on one of them. She wasn't surprised. Still, I broke down crying about being bisexual, lamenting how much I didn't want to be a stereotype.

I don't want to be a stereotype. I have trauma. I have a lot of trauma. It comes in all the shapes and sizes you can think of. I try not to let it inform everything I do, but boy howdy is it hard. I try not to let it cloud my sense of self. I try not to let it haunt me from all angles--but it does. It always has. Maybe it always will.

Are certain traumas why I'm bisexual? I don't really think so, but I also don't really know. I do know my sexuality is distorted because of it--not in the sense of who I like, but in the sense of what I like. Acts, sensations, feelings. I hate myself for it more than I probably should. It's not my fault anyway, is it?