I was out walking the kids in the backyard tonight, and it occurred to me that I was automatically following my footsteps from the last time I'd walked them. It's been snowing most of the day, and my backyard is all stone and no grass. I walk in the same steps because I know there's no ice buried under there or anything that would make me slip and fall.
The simple action became suddenly metaphorical.
I've been doing that - walking in the same footsteps over and over - for most of my life. Following the same patterns because they were easier, safer. More acceptable.
I stayed in the closet throughout junior high and high school because it was safer. After that, I went back in the closet when I moved to NY because my soon-to-be husband had kids and a bitch of an ex-wife who would use my sexuality against him.
Even now, an "out and proud" bisexual and transgender, I still allow people to call me by whatever gender they prefer - whatever makes *them* comfortable.
It's only been in the last few months that I've finally sort of...I don't know. Come into my own? But I'm still getting there.
All my life I've played different roles for different people. I truly believe it's time I played the one I've always wanted to play - me. Just...me.