It’s Sunday and today I’m at home working on Miss E’s birthday present while KK, my partner, is on call at the hospital where she works as a Chaplain.  At my mother’s insistence there will be a hand knit doll winging it’s way to my sister’s house in the next week.  The design is adorable and the yarn is a cotton/microfiber/cashmere blend – the kind of super soft texture that Miss E adores.  I think I have a gift winner that will even be something my sister can brag about in the play circle at church.  Everyone wins…

Except for me.

I’ve knit and cried for 4 hours.  Cried for the family I may never have.  Cried for the presumptions of my exceptionally straight family who doesn’t understand what it would take financially for us to have children.  Cried for the sense of normalcy that I gave up when I came out.  Some days it’s just more than I can handle.

My life is amazing.  After years of depression and anxiety I wake up every day happy to be here.  I know I wouldn’t change this life for anything, but every few months something catches and I’m reminded that no matter how much I love my life, I’ve chosen the more difficult path.  I live in a state that doesn’t recognize my relationship, and probably won’t unless the federal government manages to require it.  I can’t hold hands with my partner as we walk to dinner downtown.  I won’t ever be as affectionate with her in  front of my family as I did in other relationships (I can’t imagine ever kissing her in public – which presents some serious pre-wedding anxiety for me).  I wouldn’t trade this life for the one I had…even if there were large sums of money attached, but it doesn’t make this easy.

My father-out-law says, “you can have anything, but you can’t have everything”.  It’s one of my favorite phrases because he is absolutely right.  You can’t have everything, but you can find a way to have the things that are most important.  I imagine saying it to our children some day and hope that we might find a way for those children to come to life.