Category: jLog

A little less than 6 months ago, my character was put under severe scrutiny (and it’s been confirmed, bad things really do come in threes).

There were repeated questions –

Were my intentions pure?

Was my heart in the right place?

Was I really the open-hearted, non-judgmental, loving person I claimed to be?

I wasn’t expecting it, didn’t feel I deserved it, and definitely wasn’t prepared for it.

The month that followed was the hardest of my life for many, many reasons…and yet, I just kept hearing people say, “you’re doing better than I would have thought.”

This of course led me (and everyone else) to question whether or not I was truly healing and if I was actually ok…or if I just wasn’t dealing with what was actually happening. I checked in with myself constantly, but I kept coming to the same conclusions –

This pain is great, but I am too. 

Almost 5 years ago I made a choice to follow my heart and trust myself. And that choice was a choice to always trust myself. I didn’t overthink. I didn’t second guess. I trusted myself to know what I needed. To know my truth. And once I owned my truth, I couldn’t take it away.

I learned the value of being myself – always. 

I thought I had been being me for a good long while. I thought I had fully come into my own and that I wasn’t afraid to be me, to choose me. But this was different. This was unabashed, unashamed, untamed authenticity.

And after that moment, that moment I made my choice – the choice that I knew without a doubt was right for me – I knew no other way to be.

So this is me, this is what you get.

And I’ve learned, by watching myself and countless others, that once you make the choice to live authentically – there are no other choices to make.

There’s no undoing. No going back.

Being is all you know how to do.

And the best part? You never have to question your own intentions. You know. From that moment on, you just know.

Now, sometimes, we forget this knowing – for just a minute. And about 6 months ago, that’s what happened to me – for a moment.

Once, twice, three times questioned…I almost forgot what I knew. I almost forgot my truth. I almost forgot that I know no other way to be than exactly who I am – genuine, transparent, compassionate.

But then, I remembered.

The thing about living your truth, is that it takes beautiful bravery.

This is in no way the absence of fear. It is trusting your truth and doing the hard stuff – even when it’s terrifying – because you know no other way to be. It is acknowledging that no one knows you better than yourself. And it is recognizing that all you are is open and honest and share your truth with the world.

And if anyone questions that…well then,  that’s on them.

We are not free from pain, scrutiny, and questioning when we choose our truth. Sometimes it feels like much the opposite; like everyone is coming for us, because they can’t possibly fathom that someone would share themselves so freely.

Don’t let their fear derail your purpose.

Choosing you is not selfish. It is self-preservation.

Know yourself first, it is the only way you will ever truly be able to connect with anyone else.

And we the people? That’s all we want. It’s what we crave. Deep, pure, human connection.

So I dare you to show me your beautiful bravery. And hold my heart while I show you mine.

The BIG changes that come when you choose to live authentically and no longer hide in an unfulfilling life are incredibly challenging.

Choosing to prioritize your own happiness can sometimes feel selfish, making you feel guilty or undeserving.

“Nellie, do you think you’d rather be called an extra-mom or a step-mom? I don’t think I really like the word step-mom…” our daughter asked, as we all sat in the family room playing and hanging out.

I immediately smiled big because this was an easy question for me and it has been for a long time now.

“Well, I prefer “bonus” over “step” or “extra”, personally. A bonus is something you don’t expect to have, but that you’re really happy you do have! And that’s why I’ve always considered you my bonus-kids! I didn’t know I’d have you all in my life,  but I am so lucky that I do!” I told her, and she smiled just as big.

“Perfect she said, you are my bonus-mom!”

Years ago when my bonus-kids first entered my life, we didn’t really think in terms of labels or definitions. Our sons were just a year and our daughter wasn’t even four yet, they didn’t ask these kinds of questions so we didn’t need to define what role we played. I never really thought much about it, the label that is, and I still can’t even remember the first time someone referred to me as a step-mom.

I remember knowing it was of course a true statement, in that our society has termed any non-biological parent entered into parenthood by a relationship or marriage as the “step” parent, but never feeling very connected to the term. “Step”, I imagine, was to signify one step removed, and in this case, the biology specially removed. And while I understood that part (of course these children did NOT grow in my body), I never felt in any other ways removed. I was fully included; having a partner who was a SAHM and working full-time out of the house myself, we were both with the children nearly all day, every day. I helped parent in all the ways any parent would, and I never felt removed from much of anything.

Regardless of my involvement or how included my partner wanted me to be in our kids’ lives, I know that for me, being a bonus-parent has always had more to do with my own outlook on parenting than anything else.

I grew up in a blended family and I learned at a very young age that blood isn’t necessary for love. I watched my half sister call my biological father “dad” for all the years of our childhood, even though he was technically her “step” father. I became incredibly close with my step-siblings at the age of 12, after knowing them for only a short period of time. And as an adult, I formed a lasting connection with my step-siblings’ mother and saw her as another mother-figure in my life. These were all nontraditional family roles, but they all provided the same love that my biological family members provided. For me, it was always about the bond, not the blood.

As I started thinking more about the kind of family I might want as an adult, I realized that I had a yearning to be a parent, but that was all that was important to me – that I would have children I could provide parental love and guidance to, learn from, and enjoy. Biology never entered the equation.

So when I found myself in love with a woman who had three biological children when I had none (biological or otherwise), my feelings were simple. I loved her, and they were an extension of her, so I loved them just the same.

I know that for many adults who find themselves in relationships with single parents, the feelings aren’t always quite so simple. Whether because of the age of the children, the situation with the other parent, or already having biological children of their own; some adults find bonding with someone else’s biological children – especially when those children have two biological parents in their lives – extremely challenging. And despite having an incredibly complicated situation in many ways, perhaps in this respect our situation was not so complicated. I had parental love to give and no children to receive it. My partner had children who were receiving parental love, but who she believed could always benefit from more. So we always loved freely, openly, and honestly.

Now, that is not to say that being a bonus-parent hasn’t come with it’s own unique challenges. Our children have two biological parents across two households, and time is and will forever be shared with our children. That alone, I believe, is the most difficult part of being a bonus-parent. We are granted a beautiful gift, but it is not a gift we are able to experience everyday. Yet, although we may not be able to see our bonus-kids each day, the amazing part of parenting (bonus or otherwise), is that our children are, in some way or another, always with us. Their presence in our lives means that they are forever present in our hearts and in each moment of all of our days.

And this is a lesson all parents learn as their children age and go off into the world, but maybe it’s a lesson that those of us who share our children are forced to learn earlier. And although it may be challenging, I choose to see it as a benefit of this experience. We are forced to appreciate the moments we do have, because those moments without our children show up like clockwork.

So I can’t say that my love for our children is the same as a mother’s love for her biological children. I can’t say that my love for our children would be the same if I had biological children of my own. I can’t say those things because I simply don’t know, and I likely never will.

What I can say is that these are the children in my life, these are the children I have chosen to love, and these are the children who receive all of my parental support, guidance, and advice. These are the children that take up so much real estate in my heart and who I fiercely love and protect, every day. Whether in front of me or off making their mark on the world, I am forever grateful for the imprint my bonus-kids have left on my heart.

On the outside, it looks like Elizabeth and I “came out” when we realized we had fallen in love with a woman. And the questions that followed – “did you always know?”, “were you hiding how you really felt?”, “did you ever really love him?” suggest that most people assume we weren’t really our true selves or in love with our previous male partners at all.

But here’s why that’s wildly inaccurate (and I can speak quite confidently on this part for myself and even for Elizabeth too, as she has so eloquently written her emotions and experiences for us all to read).

We were never hiding our sexuality. We weren’t faking our lives or our love. We weren’t living a lie.

I know that for many women, this is the case. For many women who realize their sexual orientation at a very young age (6 seems to be the winning number), it wasn’t easy to simply be the person they knew they were – whether because of fear within themselves, fear of family acceptance, religious beliefs, etc. And for those women there is a very real sense of “coming out” when they are finally able to do so – emerging as who they really are, free to live their authentic life.

But Elizabeth and I are not those women. 

I grew up in a very liberal, emotionally expressive family. My mother’s best friend when she was a child was gay and growing up I had countless gay “aunts” and “uncles” (that’s what happens when your parents meet doing theater together). And I don’t remember much about being 6 other than my first grade teacher’s name (Mrs. Kilpatrick) and sneaking my Smartfood out of my desk before snack time (certainly nothing about sexual tendencies). Truthfully, it wasn’t until I was in high school that I even learned ‘being afraid to be gay’ was a thing people felt; it was such a non-issue in my life and my family.

And in the last year I attended my all-girls summer camp (that I had attended every year since I was 9), I distinctly remember wanting to be a lesbian, because so many of the women surrounding me were and it just seemed so cool – they were so sure, so confident, they belonged. So at 14 I settled on saying I was “bi” and open to anything and anyone, that I was more about the connection with another person and that physical body parts had little to do with that connection for me.

And so even though I looked like your average heterosexual young adult from age 17-28, dating the captain of the football team and eventually accepting his marriage proposal, I still always had my open-mind – and more importantly, my open heart. I didn’t expect that another woman (married, with three young kids), would walk right into that opening and fill it all the way up to the tippy top. But she did and she has.

And although Elizabeth knew Rayya for years and she even took up the very big, important space of “dearest friend”, I imagine she walked into Elizabeth’s open heart in much the same unexpected way.

Truthfully, this experience is less about admittance of who we were all along and more about becoming. As Glennon Doyle Melton says, we are always becoming. And for Elizabeth and I, the current state of our becoming just looks very different to the outside world than where we were before.

And the thing with labels is that they never capture the becoming, they never capture the full story. If I met someone today, with my fiancée and our three kids, they’d likely label me a lesbian and ask which one of us carried our children. They wouldn’t know about my past or hers or how we came to be, but they would believe they knew so much just by applying that label.

But let me remind you, Elizabeth and I are terrible lesbians. 

We aren’t disregarding the relationships we previously had with our male partners, we did love them, and it was a real love for that time in our lives. It wasn’t forced, or fake. It wasn’t because it was what society told us to do. It was because that was part of our becoming, and it felt good and right to us at the time. And it was.

So it’s likely Elizabeth will never shout from the rooftops that she is a lesbian. And you won’t find me up on any rooftops either.

Sexuality is more fluid than most people assume it to be and I am not the first to say that. And I am not the first to recognize that we assign labels to help us make sense of the world, but I always like to remind people that what we think we know from any label or outward appearance isn’t ever the whole story.

If we see a happy heterosexual couple out in the world with two children, we don’t know if those children are theirs biologically, if they’re adopted, if this is a second marriage, if the children are visiting their aunt and uncle, if there is severe illness at home, if they are afflicted by addiction, etc. And because there is still so much we don’t know when we have a label, I have truly never found very much comfort in labels.

Because it’s what we don’t know from the label that creates the honest connection, it’s the story behind the outward appearance that tells me whether you’re my kind of person, or someone I don’t have space for in my life. It’s what I learn after the label has been applied that keeps me wanting to know more.

Although I have been public with my same-sex relationship for over 4 years now and Elizabeth has only publicly announced hers recently, the most important part of both of our stories is that we are happy. Elizabeth and I may never tell anyone “I am a lesbian”, all we are saying is that we fell in the biggest, boldest, most beautiful love, and that she is everything and more ❤︎

‪#‎TBT‬ —> our first picture as a couple…

…but no one really knew.

I can still remember every moment of this night so clearly. A “reunion” of sorts after the most amazing destination wedding a few months prior. A fun girls weekend away as an excuse to get everyone together again. An opportunity for us to be together. In public. In secret.

People have asked, judged, and criticized why May 26, 2012 means so much to us. But it is the few people who have asked and truly listened to the answer that we will be celebrating our big, bold, and beautiful love with on May 26, 2017. And as we get closer and closer to becoming wives, exactly 5 years from when our love was born, the importance of our date rings true more and more.

I’ve tried offering explanations before, but have never done it very well. And it’s not that I feel I owe an explanation to anyone, but it’s more that I want people to understand what it felt like to have my soul completely awakened for the first time.

I knew I had always wanted the kind of love that leaves you breathless – for all the reasons you could image – passion, anger, laughter… I just never in my wildest dreamings imagined it to look like it does.

But it’s so much more beautiful than anything I had ever imagined.

And I didn’t even know if I’d be able to keep it, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to call it mine.

I can’t even imagine the heartache I would still be carrying if we never came to be…

We didn’t plan it, we didn’t expect it, and we didn’t know how much we didn’t know.

We just knew that what we felt towards each other and with each other was bigger than anything we had ever experienced without each other.

And we knew we didn’t want to let it go.

We have loved each other, hard, for 1507 days. We’ve hurt each other, helped each other, learned to love better, and will continually grow together. We’ve been the worst versions of ourselves together, and yet we are continually becoming the best versions of ourselves every single day.

We love each other so fiercely that we will never stop doing the hard, messy work that is required of great love.

Recently while listening to music in my car, the same song has made it’s way through the shuffle. Although I love the musical Wicked and at many times in my life have identified with several of the characters, it was only recently that I realized the best expression of what May 26, 2012 felt like for me was in the lyrics of the one and only love ballad – As Long As You’re Mine. You don’t have to know Wicked, you don’t even have to like musicals, but if you’re one of the people who has asked, judged, or criticized the birth of our love, I urge you to listen and read the lyrics. And if you are one of the few who have celebrated our love – whether you understood it or not – I thank you, from the bottom of my big, bold beautiful heart, and I urge you to listen as well.

We never know how long we are able to keep the gifts we are given in this life, but I will treasure this great gift of love for as long as you’re mine. ❤︎

As Long As You’re Mine

Wicked The Musical

AND JUST FOR THIS MOMENT
AS LONG AS YOU’RE MINE
I’VE LOST ALL RESISTANCE
AND CROSSED SOME BORDERLINE
AND IF IT TURNS OUT
IT’S OVER TOO FAST
I’LL MAKE EV’RY LAST MOMENT LAST
AS LONG AS YOU’RE MINE…

[FIYERO]
MAYBE I’M BRAINLESS
MAYBE I’M WISE
BUT YOU’VE GOT ME SEEING
THROUGH DIFFERENT EYES
SOMEHOW I’VE FALLEN
UNDER YOUR SPELL
AND SOMEHOW I’M FEELING
IT’S “UP” THAT I FELL …

[BOTH]
EVERY MOMENT
AS LONG AS YOU’RE MINE
I’LL WAKE UP MY BODY
AND MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME…

[FIYERO]
SAY THERE’S NO FUTURE
FOR US AS A PAIR …

[BOTH]
AND THOUGH I MAY KNOW
I DON’T CARE …

JUST FOR THIS MOMENT
AS LONG AS YOU’RE MINE
COME BE HOW YOU WANT TO
AND SEE HOW BRIGHT WE SHINE
BORROW THE MOONLIGHT
UNTIL IT IS THROUGH
AND KNOW I’LL BE HERE HOLDING YOU
AS LONG AS YOU’RE MINE…

[Fiyero studies her face.]

[FIYERO]
What is it?

[ELPHABA]
It’s just– for the first time, I feel wicked.

Can we just stop.

Stop putting our love, the thing that lights us and lifts us up, as a last priority.

Xx,
Dr. Jennelle ❤︎

For all of my childhood I was surrounded by gay framily, the closest friends to my parents that were some of my very favorite people in the world. By the age of 13 I had a very open mind around sexual orientation, realizing that I cared much more about having interpersonal intimacy that I ever did about gender. When I was 16 I helped form and lead the (very small) GSA in our high school. And I’ve always considered myself an incredibly connected ally, knowing that being involved with the “Rainbow Community” is where I feel most at home.

‘Cause even if you’re little you can do a lot
You mustn’t let a little thing like ‘little’ stop you
If you sit around and let them get on top
You won’t change a thing!

Since I was a very little girl, I have been being reprimanded for talking too much – in class, at movies, during meetings – everywhere. Yet, in high school this natural born ability suddenly became useful and even began to flourish well into college.

Because when you talk with a purpose and perspective others can’t see, you become a source of help and healing.