My Sexuality & Identity

My Sexuality & Identity

My Sexuality & Identity

I knew I was queer, before I realised I was queer.

My relationship looks heteronormative, and I present mostly as a cis straight female. I’ve gone along with that for the past few years, but I know I’m not. I definitely know I’m not now.

I’ve known for quite sometime that I wasn’t straight. I remember being attracted to women from a very early age, and being attracted humans in general for as long as I can remember. Overtime, that attraction didn’t dissipate, it grew stronger. From being secretly in love with female friends, to realising that my terms of attraction are not limited by any boundaries. I’ve known for some time that my relationships were not the stereotypical ‘norm’. I also hate the word ‘stereotypical’. 

Last year I took a bit of time, sat down, read all the descriptions and the labels, figured out that queer fit probably me best. This was mostly to do with who I was attracted to. I had an interesting discussion with the Gent this morning about labels. Now, I’m medically minded. By this I mean that if you do not have labels in the medical system, no one believes you. Part of me applied the same school of thought to my sexuality, and how I identity. But, that’s where I went wrong.

This year, I’ve had a lot of time to think – I’ve started to relish thinking more. That sounds odd, but after being deprived of my brain due to pain, I’m blurting out all my thinking down on virtual paper. Anyway, this year I don’t just know I’m queer, I am queer. For about a year, whether through a slip of the tongue, or a steamy fantasy, my brain has become less strict in playing into the female fantasy. It’s not a random strapon it’s my cock, and there’s a feeling of being deeply uncomfortable with the associations of femininity. I’ve also found myself hating my boobs for reasons that aren’t medical (shocker). The hatred was more down to the fact that they existed on me.

It’s been confusing.

It’s not a large percentage of me that feels this way, but when it happens, it’s intense. I don’t think there’s a label that suits the feelings I have during those times, just that from time to timeI don’t feel comfortable in the skin I’m in. I’m also actively trying not to label it whilst I figure it all out.

All of this came about in dribs and drabs. Earlier this year, after a stint in hospital I knew I needed to figure out what clothes I wanted to wear. I realised that my wardrobe didn’t really feel like my wardrobe. I wanted to wear different clothes, clothes I didn’t own. Now, I already have different wardrobe stored in different boxes for work, but I wanted to clothes that were more me, not a persona. I found that, from time to time, wearing a leather jacket, shirt, and leggings felt more natural than wearing a dress. The same thing happened with my hair. After I got it cut short (or at least short for me) it’s been amazing, so freeing, and I think going to get more cut-off as soon. I know this doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a lot to me.

I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I’m still figuring out parts of me. I’m giving myself permission to, and I’m struggling, but I think I’m getting somewhere. It’s only since I started blogging full-time I have realised just how much my brain has been trapped. How uncomfortable I felt in my own skin. I’m also going to try avoiding labels for a bit, and see what happens.

Between my health, this past year, actions that inspired a #MeToo post or two, and a whole host of family problems, I haven’t had much chance to just sit and think over the years. Granted, I’m not very good at stopping, I love working, being on ago and managing 10 projects at once. But after the hospital, I realise I need to stop. I need to give my brain a chance to breath. I need to let it figure out who it wants to be, I need to figure out the person I am without societies pressure sitting on top of me like a weight I can’t move. 

Maybe in time, my feelings will change. But for now, queer – or even genderqueer/non-binary feels right, it feels comfortable, and not just instinctive.

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