Why do I even think I have a right to care about your life?
Marriage is tough. I know, I’ve done it twice.
In the sevenish years since my divorce, I’ve heard my first marriage referred to in a number of different ways.
The jump from the nest.
First of all, let me make this clear: my marriage was not well thought out. It was something that sprang from my own codependent need to belong and be needed. I thought it would be a big game of house.
But for all the mistakes that were made, all the hurt and confusion that was had, my marriage was what brought me not only my two oldest children, but it linked me for life to the person who would always remain one of the best friends I could have. There is no price for those things. I would not change it for all the riches.
But it was my decision, my doing. I was free to make my own choices.
Why is that a right that can only be afforded to people with opposing genitals?
Because of the Bible? Whatever my views are on the Bible (and I’m still figuring that out), it’s not something I think people should be forced to believe and follow. Or something I believe it makes sense to mold laws around.
If we’re honest, is it just a matter of what we (generic we, here) as a society are most comfortable with?
Many of us weren’t taught in our growing up times about how to handle relationships that deviate from what we perceive as the norm.
But that’s the thing – WE decide what’s normal.
I want happiness to be normal. I want Tim and Ron, Cameron and Mitchell, Jenny and Tiffany, and whoever else to be free to say, “Hey, I love this person. I don’t love them for their genitals or the color of their skin or the way people accept us or don’t. I love this person because above all, I was created to love. My heart matches this heart. And I am happy.”
Why on Earth is that not okay?
My changing mind and “outgrown” first marriage are the abomination. Not genuine love. That’s rare. That’s precious. That’s a gift.
Love is a beautiful thing. Love belongs to everyone.