Notes on:
life, sexuality, fortune, poverty, pain, and Buddhism
January 8, 2008
The Weight of Separation
After my coming out I started losing weight. I've been somewhat overweight since puberty; a defense mechanism, perhaps, against unwanted sexual attention and general insecurity. On the magic day of my self-realization, the traumatic and uplifting day of transformation, all that seemed to change. My relationship with food became a non-issue. I ate well when I was hungry and abstained when I was not. Since then, I've lost a lot of the extra weight.
But the in-laws have come for a month-long visit, and I find myself putting on weight again. (Sigh.) I know why too, it's not a mystery at all. First, I'm not out to everyone, just to myself and my own little family unit. I'm in a heterosexual marriage, and I'm still getting used to the idea of being gay and married to a man. At this point I'm still not sure how it's going to all work out. So the last thing I want to do is get everyone involved, particularly the in-laws.
Second, I'm not always comfortable around my mother-in-law. She's great, and really kind hearted, but she's notoriously introverted and depending on how she's feeling she might not say much at all. I end up feeling shut-right-down when I share something and get a sort of null response. What's worse my husband falls into old patterns around her and, like her, will just "check-out", and be in the room but mentally not available for conversation or help when help is needed.
The result is the feeling that I'm a sort of ghost in my own house. I'm there, but people can only hear me, see me, care about me when they decide to be present. The instability of it drives me crazy.
I've tried centering and found some solace in that. Mindfulness of the Three Characteristics (suffering, impermanence, no-self) helps. But I am constantly amazed at how desperate I am for love and acceptance. Inadvertent, unexpected, unrepentant snubs at irregular intervals just seem to destroy my love of self. Is it really such a shallow thing as to be obliterated by temperamental lack of acknowledgment? And just when I finally thought I had enough love in myself to face my greatest personal secret: being gay. Is my maximum really so small? My increasing girth is testament to its tragic insufficiency.
Perhaps the most poignant realization, however, is how amazingly hurtful it is to believe we are a separate self. I am alone, therefore I must be vulnerable. Others do things and I assume that I, my-self, am the object of the action, and accordingly I suffer. Where-oh-where is a little more equanimity when you need it?
I am about to go on another round of vacation with the "crew". Mission for the week: find strategies for remembering not to take it personally!
Name: This Woman Alone About Me: I am one woman, trying to stay awake as my life rushes past. I do my damnedest to get it right and have stopped counting the successes and failures. These are my reflections on the whole gory show. See my complete profile
