Inspired by Rosie's latest entry I went through some old journals to find the account of the first time I enamoured by a woman ... (forgive me, I was only 18 and not quite as eloquent then as I am now.)
She stood no more than 5 feet and one inch, in front of 30 grade ten girls - giggling, excited on their first day back after a long summer break. She was one of the new teachers - not as nervous as the others - she seemed calm and confident, and soon all the girls thought it wise to be quiet. Short, straight, golden blonde hair framed her small face; deep blue eyes hid behind fashionable tortiseshell-framed glasses. Dressed, as the girls would come to expect throughout the year, with a scarf around her neck and a trendy citrus coloured short linen dress where the line of her g-string could plainly be seen. Her name was Annette - intelligent, kind, witty, beautiful, and shy. She was 23, just out of university, a maths and science teacher who had returned to the high school she had once attended; now she was the teacher. A school where only girls, fresh-faced catholic girls, spent their days in uniforms of green and white, perched above the beautiful river; they dreamed of one day finding freedom from this place, but Annette had found her freedom and returned.
Each and every class was a blur of thereoms and equations and geometry and statistics .... a blur mostly because I was intoxicated with her. From the first day of class I was hidden away in the furtherest corner of the classroom by the wall where she couldn't see only assume my prescence - my best friend right by my side, we two were partners in procrastination crimes. I miss those days, where Kate would work feverantly on her millions of ideas; stories, plays, poetry, philosophy and most importantly her cartoons, while I would sit quietly, meaning well and trying to work but always giving in to tempation. The sideways glances when she would come close, the covered stares as she would turn away or bend to answer another student's question - I was completely torn, trying not to be noticed but constantly desiring her attention. I was 14, and it was the first time I could look and my reflection in the mirror and say the word lesbian without flinching. New feelings had surfaced which filled me with great joy and shame; my new-found discovery was on the tip of my tongue, but for fear of ridicule I could never let anyone around me know. And so I sat quietly each day. I watched the way she moved and spoke. I found new and different ways to speak to her all the time. I even discovered we had a mutual friend, an actor named Emily who I was working with at the time, and who had gone to high school with Annette (the very same school we now both found ourselves in). No matter my feelings and desires, I was content just to be in her presence - me and my little secret.
My work failed miserably that year, a distraction someone suggested; I laughed inwardly - fits of hysterical, tearful laughter - if only they knew. She left for another school the next year. I was sorry to see her go. A year passed, and another, then I graduated; the burden was still not lifted from my shoulders ... I left Australia for a year: thought time away would do me good, let me sort my feelings out and perhaps find someone to fill the void - away from the accusing eyes of the familiar back home. Unfortunatel my time away was not what I had hoped for: I found close-minded people many times more prejudicial and hateful of those who were different (my poor young mind could not comprehend leaving the homophobia of Australia just to encounter the homophobia of Canada).... for another year I kept my mouth shut. December of 2000 came, and with it was my return to my homeland... finally the secrets were revealed ....
First I visited my best friend, and in an awkward way I spilled my not-so-eloquent story: with that relief, and her promise of support, I have started slowly but surely to let those I know and love and respect, find the true side of myself that they deserve to see. It's a long journey I have ahead of me; sometimes I miss those 14 year-old days when my feelings were my little secret and everyone could look at me without knowing, without realising who and what was in their midst ..... but my journey won't finish until I never feel the need to lie again. When I don't fear the rejection I may face when those I know 'find out' .... I hope it will happen some day.
So I wrote that 5 years ago ... in the time between then and now I have 'come out' to my friends and immediate family; no easy feat. There have been women come in and out of my life who have taught me so much about; love, loss, romance, pain, partnership, and even the ever confusing issue of sex and all it entails! I'm currently single, giving myself time to heal over the last hurt. Feeling good to be back in my own skin again and taking time for myself; I swear I'm too burnt-out to be a good girlfriend. But looking back it's been a long 9 years, from discovery to admittance, through the experimentation, to the blissful, peaceful acceptance I surround myself with now.
"If we are incapable of finding peace in ourselves, it is pointless to search elsewhere."
François de la Rochefoucauld
Peace, joy, happiness, safety and love to you all ....
