Taboo Things Nobody Talks About

It's 2022. The cozy little heated blanket surrounding the earth short- circuited and started a cozy little fire. Now the earth is burning. Ice caps are melting. Weather is doing weird shirt. Yet, while the youth of the population fight a battle that isn't theirs to fight, the "oldies but goodies" gaslight them while touting capitalist propaganda and preaching, "In my day" stories. This only further diminishes the cries and protestations of their very own kin. The point? Well, it's 2022. There's nothing really new under the son. But also, everything is new. Whatever taboo thing existed behind the veil is now front and center. Things that were unacceptable, invalidated, swept under the rug, and closeted are now coming out and calling out the hatred, judgment, and misinformed postulations that have been projected as "normal", "ethical", and "right".

I think that's fantastic. I think that's necessary. I think that it's been a long time coming. But... (yes, there is always a "but") we still have so much more to learn and so much further to go. I've been thinking lately about a few things that even 2022 hasn't exposed. I'd like to help her out right now.

First off, let me say, there has been a huge shift in knowledge, acceptance, and inclusive language around sexual identity. When I was a kid it was "gay" or "straight". Now there's a beautiful rainbow spectrum that "gay" and "straight" are bridged by. When I was a kid, there was "boy" and "girl". Now, there is a more fully known representation of what it means to be human. I wish when I was a developing young adult and I had huge questions about my identity that the vocabulary and library at my disposal was as vast and inclusive as it is now. And while I think it's been an empowering era for LGBTQIA+ communities, I have struggled to pinpoint how to identify and the implications for me if I apply a particular title to my name.

Here's what I mean: I got married in 2013 to my best friend in college(a very white and conservative christian college. We were both extremely naive and hopelessly happy. Now approaching 30, I'm less naive and not more "hopeless" than "happy". See, last year, I had my own coming out crisis. When I allowed myself to feel and think beyond the box I was put in, I discovered that I am not straight. I felt akin to the "late in life lesbians" I saw on TikTok and I found myself drawn to the idea of being with a woman. That sort of thrust me into a downward spiral because I married a man. And not just a man. A white man whose father was a methodist pastor and mother a Sunday school teacher and nurse. I couldn't possibly be a lesbian. What would that mean for me and my family? But the thought that I would just ignore my sexuality seemed like a huge afront to the lgbtqia+ people and the strides they have made to make it so people like me can live their truth. I was at a crossroads- If I am gay and stay married I inadvertently represent this fatalistic ideal that I am a faithful christian and my decision to stay married to the white man despite my attraction to women becomes a "testimony" of God's gift of healing and forgiveness of sexual sin(something I know is a bullshit notion). But if I stay married to the white man despite my sexuality, then I am seen as an oppressed woman to the lgbtqia+ community. Damned if I do. Damned if I don't.

Well, after much strife, I decided that for me, sexual identification wasn't going to work. I did not like the idea that my sexual preferences had to dictate my life choices. I did not like the feeling of being subjected to my physical desires. I also didn't like the idea that I was simply married to a white man. As I said earlier, I married my best friend. So the premise of our marriage was never based on our attraction to one another. Why should it become the premise now knowing that I'm not sexually attracted to him. Aside from my partner, I am also a fully formed person who can be so many more things than a lesbian married to a man. I decided I am a person married to another person and that my commitment to him would not change because love and partnership exist and those were values of mine for my marriage. I don't hear many conversations today about embracing the title-less person. The one who rejects the titles because they place more constraints than they free. This can't be just me. I say we talk more about this.

Next on my list of "no nos" is being open about the state of your marriage. In my experience, people who are married either bad mouth their spouse or speak nothing praise. In this way, we're all back to thinking in this dualistic manner. We either have the perfect spouse or the worst. Rarely, are there open conversations about couples struggling, worrying, and fighting to stay together. I'm not sure why these conversations aren't more prevalent. Maybe it feels too personal. Maybe it's too scary to talk about out loud because it means it's real. I however am not sure either of these are the real reasons. Honestly, I think it has much more to do with pride than anything else. I mean, if your marriage is struggling, who do you turn to? Your parents? So they can tell you they knew this would happen? Certainly not your partner's parents. Friends? So they can tell you to "dump their ass" and then spend the rest of the conversation bad mouthing them to make you feel better? It sounds like a no win situation. Also, I don't know about you, but my marriage is a long term investment. Announcing its failures feels like my own personal failures and my partner's. The reality is, my marriage is on the shakiest ground it's ever stood on. Saying nothing about it to anyone doesn't make it less shaky. If anything, it makes it more so! I have found more freedom and relief from the challenges of domestic partnership when I share my real struggles with the safe people in my life who share their struggles and offer neutral observations. Suddenly the problem within the marriage seems like a little bug and the words we speak about it become the swatter. Problem squashed? Not exactly. But the problem is more like a pesky obstacle that can be thwarted than a relationship ender. I wonder what being more open about these challenges would do for our partnerships.

The last thing that I think doesn't get nearly as much real talk is motherhood. It's like it's not ok to say that motherhood is hard. Society raises us all to believe that motherhood is the ultimate gift and calling. Like it's the pinnacle of womanhood. BUT... there's always a but. Motherhood can be a gift. It can be an individual calling. It can feel like the pinnacle of womanhood for some. But. Motherhood is bloody. Motherhood is sacrifice. Motherhood is day in and day out forever. Motherhood is crying babies followed by crying toddlers followed by crying kids followed by crying adolescents followed by crying young adults. Motherhood is always putting yourself last and feeling shame when you even think about doing something for yourself. Motherhood is trying your best and fucking it up day in and day out forever. Motherhood is the ultimate pressure. A standard that cannot be reached.

It's going to sound bad but I believe most of us are fooled into motherhood. Here's the thing: I love my kids. I love the people they are now and I can't wait to watch them develop into the people they will be. But... there's always a but. Knowing what I know now about the impossible challenges of this gig, would I make the same choice a second time? The expected answer: Yes. The real answer: Probably not. I mean, if I wasn't guaranteed the same two kids then no doubt about it fuck no. Hard pass. I struggled with fertility for three years before having my first. Follow that with nine months of vomit, a rushed and forceful labor and delivery, a third degree perineal tear, sore nipples, baby blues, engorgement, sleep deprivation, isolation, guilt, judgment, and complete loss of identity.

Just when I started to feel like a person again I found out that, after a failed(self ejected) IUD, I was pregnant again. Only a year after having my first. Follow that with another nine months of vomit, preterm labor scare, third degree perineal tear(yep, I was lucky enough to have that happen twice), hospital transfer, stitches, cluster feedings, milk pumping, postpartum depression, more sleep deprivation, AND toddler diaper changes and sleep regressions and separation anxiety and.... so many "ands"... and all of that happened in under two years. Let me ask you: would you choose this path? I think not.

So, I think we do a disservice to kids when we go through life like this motherhood thing is a) normal b) all sunshine and butterflies c) the expected path to take. None of those are true. I think we all need to take off those rose colored glasses that were handed to us and instead of passing them to our kids, throw them on the ground, stomp on them, and expose the blinding sun for what it is. Blinding. Motherhood is hard as fuck. Still want some kids? Go for it. But at least you're going in with a more realistic point of view.

So there. I said the things that people don't say. If we all start saying more of these things, soon there won't be much left that is taboo, which I think will do a world of good for us all.