It took courage to uncover the confidence that you now carry with such great poise after you’ve been poisoned into thinking that your beautiful, tenacious spirit had been bruised when in fact, it’s just been blossoming into a better, bolder you.
Bold enough to bury the barriers holding you back from writing with ease just because you’re trying to appease the audience – aka your friends – who fought tooth & nail to bring back joy when in fact, joy never left it just took a left turn down a rocky road.
It took patience to learn that your job isn’t what makes you cool, yet it’s your job to cool the voice telling you that your confidence has been shot when in fact, the only thing shot are the three pointers that you still manage to drain after being given a diagnosis that should actually be deemed a super power.
Powerful enough to be a hero without a cape who doesn’t save others but saves yourself from that time when your mind was acting drunk when in fact, it was just a sobering reminder reassuring you that resilience flows through your veins.
It took a lot time with a therapist who knows you better than your own mother to learn that your creative muscles can still be flexed they just need some training, even though you think your confidence is waning when in fact, the only thing that’s waning are the insecurities that instilled doubt in you.
I dare you to not dampen the enthusiasm everyone knows you to have even as you smile with a devil on your shoulder telling you you’re not good enough or cool enough when in fact, you’re smart enough to know that you never lost your confidence in the first place, you just misplaced it while cleaning the manic mess that was out of your control.
Now that you’re in control, you’re no longer looking for confidence because you found the courage to choose it.
Now lez be real, cuffing season isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We all dream of snuggling for three straight months next to the love of our lives near the fireplace in your plaid onesie with a steaming hot cocoa in hand and a Kasey Musgraves album playing ever so softly in the background. I know what you’re thinking: Martha, you’re madly cuffed – who are you to talk? Well people, cuffing szn can take on many different forms. When I think of cuffing szn, I think a few things:
First, fine, I admit it. Cuffing season means being with that special someone, even if it’s to create a corona-tionship until the sun finally stops setting at 4pm. If you know me, you know how much I love playing Cupid; as we inch our way into the peak find-someone-or-you’ll-be-cold-all-winter months, I solemnly swear that I will do everything in my power to wingwoman the shit out of any friends that need it! And once it gets too cold to trek to DS Tequila (rip Bird Cage), my basically voluntary free labor as wingwoman comes to an end. In preparation for that time, I recommend exercising your thumb to improve the efficiency of your left and right swiping skills, perfecting and updating your dating profiles with some cute fallzie portrait mode pics and perhaps adding a poem that will win over your next potential soulmate. Here’s a quick example:
Hello, I’m queer.
Cuffing season is here
The cold winter months are way too near.
I’m ready for some warm apple cider and I’m putting away the ice cold beer.
Will you be my cuddy buddy heading into the new year?
I also want to make something very clear to all my queerdos: I’m not here to stereotype or anything but I do not advise becoming that Uhaul lez right away. Or at least not until you’ve approved your newfound lover’s wall art taste, confirmed that they know how to keep a toilet bowl clean, smelled their morning breath, and know for sure that you’re willing to do each other’s dirty laundry. Finally, if you don’t find that special someone this cuffing szn, so what? Do not obsess over having to find someone to keep you warm this winter; I got you. As Michael Bublè would say, “I just haven’t met you yet…” And yes, fam, before you ask: I’m always happy to provide you with some (highly questionable) relationship advice.
Second, cuffing season is about staying warm and finding solace in my already solidified friendships and forming new ones. Needless to say, my next favorite thing to do aside from playing Cupid is making new friends. When you consider your friends your chosen family, there’s something special about each one, new and old. The beauty of friends is, I can choose to go out with my friends, I can choose to stay in with my friends, I can choose to snuggle platonically with my friends. I’m incomparably lucky for having such genuine, beautiful, caring friends who fill my life with laughter, conversation, weirdness and fun. In short, this cuffing season is a great time to reflect on your relationships; text that college roommate you haven’t spoken to in months or years, sharpie in a coffee date with an old coworker you’ve been meaning to catch up with, fluff your your social GCal with more one-on-one dates with your close friends…
Finally, cuffing season might as well be synonymous with seasonal depression. The days get dark. The wind whips through the cracks of broken windows. We layer up as the temperature drops sub zero. Meanwhile, leaves fall like tears off their branches, leaving trees bare and cold. Hope seems shattered as if it was buried in the brinks of spring. The only Vitamin C we get is listening to “Graduation”, crying as you realize you’re older than all the ages she sings of. And on that note, I’m no certified therapist and can’t offer any wise solutions other than creating that Spotify playlist and sitting there, one with your feelings. So below I share a few songs from my “feels” playlist along with some lyrics that are particularly relatable.
1. Mary Lambert: Secrets
My shit’s not in order
I’m overweight, I’m always late
I’ve got too many things to say
I rock mom jeans, cat earrings
Extrapolate my feelings
My family is dysfunctional But we have a good time killing each other
…
I can’t think straight, I’m so gay
Sometimes I cry a whole day
I care a lot, use an analog clock
And never know when to stop
And I’m passive aggressive
I’m scared of the dark and the dentist
I love my butt and won’t shut up
And I never really grew up
They tell us from the time we’re young
To hide the things that we don’t like about ourselves
Inside ourselves
I know I’m not the only one
Who spent so long attempting to be someone else
Well, I’m over it
I don’t care if the world knows what my secrets are…
2. MisterWives SUPERBLOOM
Resilient little thing, just like mama made you
No one needs to save you..
Wallflower in the spring
Oh, they can’t contain you
Through the cracks, you break through
Ah-na-na, ah-na-na, ah-na-na
I deserve congratulations
‘Cause I came out the other side
I’ve been having revelations
And I’m gon’ let them shine
I deserve congratulations
I’d never thought that I’d survive
If you tell me I won’t make it
That’s when I, that’s when I
Superbloom…
3. Jess Glynne: Don’t Be so Hard on Yourself
Let’s go back to simplicity
I feel like I’ve been missin’ me
Was not who I’m supposed to be
I felt this darkness over me
We all get there eventually
I never knew where I belonged
But I was right and you were wrong
Been tellin’ myself all along
Don’t be so hard on yourself, no
Learn to forgive, learn to let go
Everyone trips, everyone falls
So don’t be so hard on yourself, no
‘Cause I’m just tired of marchin’ on my own
Kind of frail, I feel it in my bones
Won’t let my heart, my heart turn into stone
So don’t be so hard on yourself, no
I’m standin’ on top of the world, right where I wanna be
So how can this dark cloud keep raining over me?…
4. Maren Morris: The Bones
We’re in the homestretch of the high times
We took a hard left
But we’re alright
Yeah, life sure can try to put love through it, but
We built this right, so nothing’s ever gonna move it
When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter
Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter
Let it break ’cause you and I remain the same
When there ain’t a crack in the foundation
Baby, I know any storm we’re facing
Will blow right over while we stay put
The house don’t fall when the bones are good
Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I
Can’t even mess it up although we both try
No, it don’t always go the way we planned it
But the wolves came and went and we’re still standing…
This year will be the toughest year of your whole life. All you’ll look forward to is bedtime so the next day can come and so you won’t have to worry about today. There will be nothing but time and you’ll spend it staring at the clock, trying to put words on paper. Writer’s block. The words will come. They’ll just need some nourishment, careful thought and time. Until they blossom into whatever they’re meant to be. There will be no pressure. They’re meant to be imperfect. Just like you. Just like that first tattoo that you’ve been waiting on your whole life: an imperfect flower, that sleeps in its flowerbed and grows in it too. Just like humans do; they grow. They show growth. Even when failure seems to take over, you’ll overcome the feeling. You’ll strive for success but what if you fall into failure? How will you catch yourself from falling into the deep end? There will be no end; only new beginnings. You’ll find failures. Because failures render growth and the opportunity to improve, even when you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.
This year will be the toughest year of your whole life. You’ll wish on every star and every constellation. To forever be in a controlled state of elation. You didn’t sign up to be doctors’ fascination. Yet the diagnosis will be a tough pill to swallow, literally, knowing your reliance on the tiny pill infused with science. You’ll throw pennies into the well wishing to be well; well enough to remember that misfortune is not your fault. You’ll spend a fortune throwing coins into the wishing well. Well, it’ll work. You’ll be fortunate to have your chosen family that recognizes resilience when you don’t even recognize your own reflection in the mirror.
End.
—
Note to chosen family, circa 2021:
Best friend, if we were on a plane together and the oxygen masks came down, just know that I’d make sure yours is on first before checking on my own, even though the flight attendant would tell me otherwise. During my worst year, you caught every tear I tried to throw in the trash with your bare hands, when I barely believed in hope. You were literally the light at the end of the tunnel and I had tunnel vision, envisioning everything but the secret to healing from trauma: friends. To be the light in someone else’s time of darkness is friendship at its purest.
Last year was the toughest year of my whole life. One blog post will never be enough to contain my gratitude but it seems like a good place to start. Thanks to you, I healed.
Has anyone ever thought about how much of life we spend simply waiting? Waiting for class to start, for that uber to arrive, waiting in line for a drive-thru… these minutes add up. We may never count them, but waiting will always be something that we spend a significant, cumulative amount of time doing. So as I wait for my plane to depart from Baltimore to Chicago, I wanted to take time to reflect on a few things I’ve been waiting on recently.
I’ve been waiting to get a tattoo for years now. It’s not even fear keeping me waiting. I’ve been waiting for what that perfect stamp of permanence should be, and I don’t know that I own enough long sleeves to hide it every time I see my parents.
I’ve been waiting for what feels like an eternity for that day the light switch would flip for me to get back to baseline. My brain is beautifully fragile as you may know. But what if baseline is meant to change as time goes by? I’d be standing in the dark for a long, long time. Perhaps baseline is a temporary state of being, until one breaks the barrier inside that believes you’re meant to return to being that exact same person you once were. If you don’t believe in a baseline, it leaves opportunity to be better than your before.
I’ve been waiting for that job that brings me to cloud nine again. I’ve been there more than once now. I can’t pinpoint where my passion stems from: could be the people I work with, the brand I work for, the type of work that I do; or a combination of each. Perhaps it’s just a part of my persona. But as I’ve learned first-hand: work will not love you back. You could be in love with your job and be the highest performing colleague, yet brands will still exploit you even – especially – when you’re most vulnerable.
I’ve been waiting to be accepted by my family as a queer woman. I’ve been trying to remind them that my sexuality is not a sin. I finally am confident in who I’ve become: a loyal partner, a kind friend, a little bit of a goof, an empathetic daughter…. That said, I feel happy and most protected when I’m with the people that choose to accept me.
You shouldn’t have to wait on anything forever. And so, I look forward to my first tattoo, even if that means flaunting it to those that want to criticize me for it. I look forward to crafting a new baseline that looks different than in years past and being okay with whatever it ends up looking like. I look forward to accepting work as a means of paying the bills instead of a love in life. Finally, I look forward to spending as much time as possible with chosen family. While I’ll never be able to avoid it completely, I want to minimize the amount of time spent waiting and maximize the amount of time doing things that make life fulfilling and worthwhile.
My sincerest apologies, friends, Hawaiian Princess has clearly been on hiatus. Since the pandemic, I’ve been seriously lacking content to write about. Life’s been different and I think I stooped real low considering one of the few things I look forward to most these days is Bachelor Mondays. SPOILER: Did y’all hear that Dale and Claire broke up? And that Chris Harrison is stepping down? Anyway, I digress…
Taking a deep breath in.
2020:
The first 1.75 months I was living the dream.
Then it became the year my life got flipped turned upside down. The most unforgettable year in my 27 years of life. The most traumatic year since 2014. The year I learned more about myself than when I came out of the closet. The year my brain was on fire. The year I truly experienced grief for the first time. The year pain replaced passion. The year I learned that loving something wholeheartedly means risking hurting more than ever before. The year I learned that when crises comes, I have so many people that care. The year I’m low-key grateful for.
I promise I’m not just saying that in an attempt to paint sunshine and rainbows in what was a stormy dark year. I needed 2020 on a personal level. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t need nor want a literal global pandemic. The only kind of nice thing that I took away from that was perfecting the smize for pictures while guarded with a mask. Pandemic aside, I needed 2020 to learn to live in the present and to let go of the past.
The past only holds the power that you give it. When you hold onto it too tightly, you’ll find yourself drowning not only in the could’ve, should’ves, but also in the “almosts.”
I almost made that shot.
I almost ran away.
I almost bought that beer.
It was Wednesday, February 19th 2020. I had an appointment set for Monday. I almost made it… but that’s beside the point.
2021:
I blinked twice and it’s already February 2021. I’m a year older. The fear, the grief, the regret, they’re all a part of my past now. Believe it or not, the present also holds the power that you give it.
I’m so happy. We’re literally 6 days out from February 19th, 2021. Just when I thought I’d need a distraction for the traumatic-versary, Grief transformed into fate and I’m grateful. I’m so grateful (follow me @gaylygratitude). I’m grateful 2020 happened (I lived and I learned) and I’m even more grateful to be here in 2021.
We’re still in a pandemic and I still miss a lot of things prior to it: raging at Roscoe’s, working from coffee shops, being able to drink water in public when someone’s less than 6 feet away ..
At the same time, I’m relishing the present moment. Right now, I’m sitting on a futon in a cabin in Watervliet, Michigan while my girlfriend naps, gazing out the windows where the trees are bare and burrowed in snow, the river is icy and a few cars pass by in the distance. It feels like I’m putting in the last piece of a 5000 piece puzzle. I feel overjoyed. I feel complete. I feel so loved. Heck, if my friends making me a 36 minute birthday video isn’t a testament of how incredibly loved I feel today and everyday, I don’t know what is. My friends, Hawaiian Princess is back.
This year couldn’t have gone any worse. I struggle to believe it even happened. If I could have any superpower, it’d be to rewind time. For real though, I feel like I’m paying the price for being passionate. For caring about people and the work that I do. For giving all I have in me. That said, time (and therapy) heals all. This year has come with a lot of mixed feelings: the highs of happiness and the lows of sadness. And so, I present to you letters to and from Happiness and Sadness. The first is written by my Sidebraid sister, Lena. I couldn’t have done 2020 without her. I cry everytime I read what’s to follow:
Dear Friend,
You asked if you will ever be me again one day. The truth is you never were me, and you never will be me. You can feel me, dance with me, confuse me for that person in your selfie camera even. But to be me? That’s just not possible.
And why would you want to be me when you can be so much more? You are grit and patience and a rainbow before the storm even begins. You are every little damn thing when you feel like nothing. You are the first breath of fresh air when you step out of hell. You are sad and frustrated and more alive than I’ll ever be.
You are not me because you are so much more than me. You are the reason I exist. Without you, there is no me. You are exactly what this world needs. Don’t you see, your friends and family — they don’t need me. They need you. That’s all they’ll ever need. That’s all you’ll ever need.
So while you’re questioning whether or not you will ever be me again one day, here I am right in front of you, looking for you. I am feeling you and dancing with you. I think about you when I play Someday by Kygo. I want to be you. I want to be you so freakin’ badly. I want to be you for a second, a minute, an hour, a day…I know I cannot be you for a lifetime. Only you can do that. But I am willing to spend a lifetime fighting like hell to be with you in as many moments as possible.
To my friend — my gritty, beautiful, loving, inspiring, irreplaceable friend: take your time. Let it pour. Give this place the most beautiful storm it has ever seen. And when you’re ready, I’ll come find you.
Love,
Happiness
Dear Happiness,
You’re not all you’re cracked out to be. I mean, why is it that people flaunt you and hide me. Just check any social media, you get all the attention. It’s not that I’m jealous, it’s just that to be me and to make me the center of attention, requires vulnerability. And so often, makes people feel guilty.
Everybody wants to be you. I wish I had that effect on people. And I don’t think folks realize that at times, we’re opposite sides of the same coin. Sometimes people laugh so hard they cry; sometimes people cry so hard they end up laughing. I’ve been crying a lot lately and it’s because I’m me – not you.
Look, life is unfair, and I feel like you got the better deal here. One might assume that extroverts can’t feel me but joke’s on them – I will find you when you least expect it. It’s not like people require a trip to the pharmacy every time you creep up on them. With you, it’s piñatas, karaoke machines, carnivals and beers; it’s friends, and French fries and lottery wins. But you know what, I’m here too. I’m here for you. I’m here for happy people too. Because there’s a little bit of me in all of us; I just hit some people harder than others. I’m here because you need me to heal. You will become hopeful, not in spite of me, but because of me.
I’m glad I exist. Because without me, it’d be all sunshine and rainbows all the time, and there’s beauty within the storms too. There’s beauty within me. There’s a reason all of y’all weather the storm. You wouldn’t be able to do it without me!
At the end of the day, even though I’m me more than you most of the time these days, I can’t wait to just be you again. You without me – or just a tiny little dab of me. There I said it. You win. I’ve been me but in overdrive and I miss you. 2020. Enough said. Nonetheless, you’re within reach. I just know it. So let’s agree on one thing: in sickness and in health, there’s a way to strike a balance between both of us. It’s okay for us to be friends; you’ll just always be the cooler one who looks better on Instagram.
I consider myself an extrovert. A people-person you could say. And even so, there are times that I enter an introverted bubble. To be honest, it’s not completely by choice. It’s just that life has given my the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and I bounce back & forth – introvert to ex – in & out, in the latter most of the time, until I find a comfortable middle ground. Thank you, meds!
Covid. What a time to be alive, am I right? I’ve pushed my own pause button, partially because everything else – all of what allows my extroverted excursions to enter – is also paused or postponed. And as I walk around with my mask on, my people-person norm off, it’s really forced me to reflect on how I want to re-enter the “real world” once that long-awaited vaccine makes its way to the world.
I love meeting new people. It’s pretty much my all-time favorite hobby on the regular. In these times of covid – coinciding with a time of reflecting and recovery for myself – I found myself reconsidering how I want my favorite hobby to makes its new debut once I come out of this introvert, covid-times shell. Keep in mind: behind those masks, we don’t know the struggles and hardships that a person could be hiding.
So, here we are in this really bizarre time, in this slow-moving still beautiful time, and I found myself learning a lot… not only about myself but how I want to be a better people-meeter when I’m back in my (more-me) people-person self. The other day I found myself at a party full of strangers. This type of scene is typically the type of scene when I’m in my element. And yet, the timing is tough. So when strangers’ first ice-breaker to me was: What do you do? I froze. I read, I write, I juggle (mostly brain-enhancing tasks), I cook, I clean, I color. I know that’s not the answer they’re looking for. My brand is #awkwardMartha and let me tell you, I felt extra awkward then. Remember, we don’t know what burdens are hidden behind those masks.
What do you do? If you would’ve asked “old me” that question I would’ve been on cloud 9. My job was a part of my identity. My passion. I lacked a work-life balance though and it affected my well-being. By a lot. I found myself having to create a “new me”. What’s going to become an #awkwarderMartha, a more memorable Martha, one that’s more aware of creating healthy boundaries. And I promise my people-person self that I will never use the ice breaker question, “What do you do?” again, because not everyone’s brand is #awkward. There are so many other ice-breaker questions like: Where are you from? What do you like to do for fun these days? What are your favorite foods? Ditch the discomfort you could create for people by ditching the “What do you do?”
Chicago’s weather goes a little something like this:
70 degrees and sunny today.
32 degrees and subtle snowflakes tomorrow.
Two days later, 61 degrees perfect for my flannel fashion [gay still, remember?]
Three days pass, and it’s the polar vortex again, -55 degrees Fahrenheit where you could toss hot water in the air and you could be the one to make snowflakes this time.
23 days later, enjoy your last snow angel, because the next season is ready.
24th day, spring is here.
Okay, weather. I see you & feel you. But also, can you just make up your mind?
Wow. You’re a babe. The stud of all sports you could say. At the same time, I wish I didn’t try to suck-up to every coach I ever had the pleasure to play for. ‘Cuz Lord knows I kinda suck now. Well suck is probably too strong of a word to describe someone who’s not too shabby at most sports.
But damn, something sure shattered my confidence that prevented me from becoming the player I had the potential to become. Maybe I was just shaken up too much as a child. So why do schools schedule practice literally every single day of the week instead of scattering some classroom sessions for kids teaching a class called: Learning Potential of the Player You Could One Day Become? What if a child’s parents aren’t wealthy or educated enough to afford or teach their kid how to get recruited in the first place?
I still sit and think on that one time I got caught with a copy of a gym key while playing basketball with some friends ~freshman year of high school at my elementary school gym. I can’t say that religion club was the best way to punish the kid in me when religion as a rugrat was clearly something forced on me since I wasn’t yet educated on any other religions at my Catholic grade school. This really makes me question society and the lack of freedom for students to explore, so they could eventually soar wherever their strengths lie.
So why is it that Chemistry was a strength of mine in high school, yet I was too scared to even attempt it at Yale? And why is it that Sex-Ed is only taught around 7th/8th grade in a super conservative fashion where they didn’t even touch on sex for a queer human?
So maybe it’s time to shift gears. Shake up the broken education systems. Allow those failing to recognize the shattered glass in classrooms to step down. Because students are innocently singing Miley Cyrus’ “It’s the Climb” down the hallways. Adults should securely hold a ladder in place for their children and allow their studious children to challenge their creativity – one step at a time – as they climb their way to the top.
Chicago’s weather goes a little something like this:
Dear Basketball,
Hawaiian Princess Pieces 