This Is Me Without The Not

Anyone who's seen the trailer for The Greatest Showman has heard the song "This Is Me." If you've paid any attention to the lyrics you know that it's a veritable anthem for anyone who is different. Being a man who is gay that seems to still include me.

I latched on to the empowering song about not making apologies, being seen, and being who I'm meant to be, the minute I heard it. But recently I've been catching myself incorrectly singing this lyric: "I'm not scared to be seen, I make no apologies, this is me." I've been leaving out the word "not." Therefore, singing, "I am scared to be seen..." I began to ponder if this was less mental snafu and more subconscious admission--yet more proof that I'm not really comfortable being seen.

For all of my #BeYourself hashtags, mascaraed lashes in public, and high-heeled shoes wearing moments on the subway, I'm still uncomfortable in my own skin. I don't love myself. I show up but I'm still afraid to be seen. Even as I defy you not to see me.

I am never more confident than when I'm safely inside the walls of my own apartment.

There are moments (beyond the walls) when my confidence rages within me like a fever consuming every cell. But the fever never burns for long. I sabotage my well-being, turning my own thoughts of self-loathing into an antibiotic; curing me of my "undeserved" happiness and leaving me a little more debilitated in the aftermath.

The more I begin to externally express my internal awareness, the sadder and lonelier I feel. How odd. I would have thought my life of secrets would have been a lonelier life to live. But no. I feel like an aging queen--hair coiffed, perfectly mascaraed lashes, clothes on point, fabulous bag--smiling and waving at the men, all the while convincing myself the men don't want the mascara and that the wave is just too limp wristed. I see them turn away,  averting their eyes so quickly that they appear to be afraid someone will catch them looking at me.

I don't know what man wants a man who likes nail polish, mascara, flamboyant jewelry, and high heels. I've convinced myself I'm undesirable number one. I feed my own self-contempt. I'm guarded. I don't want to get hurt. So I pretend I'm not interested so that when I get home, safe behind those walls, I can fall apart in private, not being seen. This is me.

I'm ashamed that I like makeup and high heels. I'm ashamed that I'm not more masculine. I'm ashamed that I'm ashamed. I've lost my way. I no longer know what my purpose is.

I risk nothing yet I risk myself every day when I express my true self. I'm wallowing in self-pity--almost drowning in it. I am Michael Rohrer yet I feel like I am nothing, no one; an invisible entity moving through life longing to be seen while fervently hoping no one will notice me. I'm trapped between worlds.

This can't be "who I'm meant to be." I am boldly rambling through my life right now. Not so much Rohrering as whimpering. I've got to add the "not" back to the lyric.

My journey continues...

Desire/Fear

As his ass begins to flatten, his biceps deflating from mountains to hills, he knows he only has himself to blame. The desire to keep his body lean and taut is greater than his fear of it becoming flabby. Yet still, he finds it easier to distract himself with other things like...sitting. That, instead of making his legs move in a forward motion toward a goal that, once a necessity, has now become a discardable challenge. Sitting. Avoiding. Why? Is there fear? He knows the place and its virtually unfriendly members. He knows a person will rarely say hello. But he craves the chummy atmosphere that he once took for granted. He’s convinced himself he’s too old to be desirable in this playground of youth and pretty bodies. He now feels self-conscious where he used to feel like he belonged. So he sits. And avoids. And his abs become slack. He becomes mentally self-destructive—harder on himself than any other person could possibly be. He’s taken the step forward before. He knows he can. He knows the feeling of satisfaction. He sits. His legs twitch, aching to move. Only he can change his situation. Only he can fuel his desire and defeat his fear.

Motivationally Inept

He awoke feeling rested. The day had its plans well before sleep had taken him into its embrace the night before. As he sat on the sofa reading the first of the day's many tweets and updates, the coffee filled his mouth with its bitter warmth that somehow always managed to taste pleasant. He read and sipped nestled into the sofa's corner: scrolling, flipping, content. Nearly four hours later, the morning had slipped away and those plans the day haf made...fallen by the wayside, discarded like last month's Vogue. As regret and failure began to set in he realized once again that he had become depressively inept at motivation.

Caught in the Apron

There was a knock on the door. I looked up and saw his face framed in its diamond-shaped window. I froze. My little hands clutched the apron I had tied around my waist. In my panic I tried to wad it up and remove it at the same time. He looked as if he was staring right at me; his eyes piercing through the glass and right into my own. But he wasn’t reacting. Could he see me? I was terrified. As we walked across the lawn toward my grandmother’s house my father said nothing.

A Repeal Toward Silence

There was a time when I didn't consider myself a political activist. I was content to let others do the work, to let others fight the fight. During President Barack Obama's administration that changed. The game changer for me was the prospect of marriage equality.

I've never been one to want to get married. (Well, not since I was a teenager and thought I might marry a woman at age 17, but I digress). Maybe that's because I haven't had a significant other in my life that I love so much that that down-on-one-knee scenario would be the next logical step and a resounding, tearful yes the only answer. If you know me you know I would cry. I'm a soft-hearted Sally.

Regardless of my personal relationship status, I have friends who wanted/want to get married. Why shouldn't they get married? Just because some words in an ancient text says it's not the way? Please! Evolve already. Many words in that ancient text no longer hold any meaning. And yet, same sex couples continue to be judged against the ideals of some man from a time long ago (and translated through the centuries by yet more men) that continue to keep the hearts of believers so hardened that they can't open them. And the heels of all of their shoes must me in ruin for all the digging in.

That was 2015 and this is 2017.

It's an era of frustration, anger, anxiety. There is hate on both sides. And name-calling. There is no compromise. Social media doesn't help. It doesn't really bring us closer together. And it's certainly not social. No, social media allows us to yell and scream at each other, emboldened with the courage that only the safety of a keyboard can provide. 

It's an era when "fake news" is screamed in front of the camera anytime the person screaming doesn't agree or accept what's being reported. There are bans, witch hunts, repeals, stalls, rush jobs, refusals, threats. There is finger-pointing, bullying, harassment. There is no end in sight. The "leader" of the free world is guilty of leading the charge for all of the above mentioned verbs. Oh look, he is a leader.

It's an era of marches and pussy hats and the raising of voices.

This brings me to the vote on Thursday, December 14, 2017, to repeal the Obama era rules to keep the internet free for the American people--net neutrality.

This was one more slap in the face to those of us who raised our voices in protest--We The People. The ears that needed to hear the voices refused to hear. And why is that? From my view, standing outside looking in, it appears that the undoing of legislation put into place during the Obama era is at the top of the To Do list for the current administration. The man that lost the popular vote but won the electorate, hates his predecessor so much that it appears all he really wants to do is undo everything the man did, effectively taking us backwards. 

As a supporter of Barack Obama I will admit that it's hard for me to understand the point of view of people who hated/hate him as much as I hate his replacement. But that's not what this is about. 

Yesterday's vote to repeal net neutrality has me concerned for our Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press. Regardless of who you support, you should be concerned about the repeal. 

While initially appointed to the FCC by Barack Obama, it was Donald Trump who appointed Ajit Pai, chairman. And it was Mr. Pai who cast the deciding vote to begin dismantling the net neutrality rules that keep the internet free and open. He has now opened the door for internet service providers (ISP's) to slow down content (better finish the second season of The Crown on Netlix before it starts stopping to buffer) or even block content with which they don't agree.

This is where it gets personal for me. I am a writer. I have spoken out many times against the actions of Donald Trump, the administrator of the Corporate Greed Administration. You have to open your eyes. Don't you think that the man who made "fake news" one of the go to phrases of the year has just laid the foundation for a different kind of wall? The one that blocks the legitimate news outlets that report the truth that he doesn't like? It's a What If scenario but can't you see the "what if" getting clearer all around you? Maybe you think, This is America. That won't happen here. Do you really want to find out?

If ISP's have the ability to block competitive content what makes any of us think that news websites that keep us informed and point out the truth aren't going to be added to the "blocked" list?

We have to fight. We can't be silent. We have to raise our voices. We have to make ourselves be heard. If we don't, the truth could be repealed and that silence will be deafening.