Why Being Queer is the Best Gift God* Ever Gave Me

becoming unbothered

It is snowing here. A few inches have stuck; pine needles have fallen beneath and above each hour, making chaos on the ground. The snow reminds me how long I’ve been at the orchard. Not for so long, but enough time to tail-end(start) two seasons and watch a full fall. It was a beautiful fall. 

It’s cold now and the orchard doesn’t need much of our assistance. We’re taking the last of the fruit it bore months ago and pressing it for one final round of cider. I’m coming back to my own Tuesday mornings. The cold, sticky mill cannot bother me anymore. I’m sure the plants are ready to be unbothered, too. It must be the time of un-bothering. 

Not to say the word again, but it seems that some people have forgotten how to be unbothered. It baffles me. What is there to even say when the world is this quiet, this covered? People love to ask me where I’m going next while also wanting a detailed answer with logistics. When, where, what. There needs to be a straightforward path. A 9-5. (Which I will never, ever have.) When I say people I mean family, quite honestly. There are many dear friends in my life, probably reading this, who ask the question with care and support. I’m not talking about you.

Yesterday, my therapist told me that for the first time she can confidently say I am trusting all of my experiences. “He could’ve done better,” I said about someone who has hurt me consistently in the past year. There was no, “But maybe it is my fault.” I can’t be bothered. 

This morning I’ve been in reflection. I didn’t want to reflect, but here I am with the first Tuesday morning that is mine again in months. My car is packed, just how I like it. I’ve been thinking about what my therapist said, about what experiences in my life I’ve been gaslit beyond belief (literally) with. It was hard for me to believe the facts of my childhood until college, until I discovered I could write poetry in lines of truth and witness—anybody reading could decide what it meant for themselves. It was liberating.