Spring is a myth to winter, but it's a fairy tale that beginning to come true; there are daffodils on the back elevation of my house and what appear to be iris bulbs coming up in the front. The weather is starting to soften a bit. (Though it's still bloody cold out in the mornings!)

And with the longer days and the shorter nights, I'm actually beginning to wake up to the world.

I've spent the last few weeks doing a lot of sorting things out, my attraction to and subsequent dating of Chris among them. I moved through the five stages of grief:

Denial: "I am not doing this. I am not doing this. What the hell am I thinking? I cannot believe I am doing this! Why is this happening to me again?"

Anger/Resentment: "Why are you inflicting this on me? I didn't want this. I didn't want to lose my identity to you."

Bargaining: "Okay, maybe a year or two. Then I can go back to being a lesbian."

Depression: "I suck. Gods, I am such a weak, hateful person who can't even stick to one sexual orientation. I should just kill myself and escape the humiliation of being a failed lesbian and having to live with being assumed straight. I can't live with this."

Acceptance: "Well, maybe I can do this. It's not the end of the world. One day at a time."

Part of the reason I was able to finally come to accept the loss of my lesbian identity is that I realized that Chris is an aberration. I managed to go for almost five years without having sex with a guy, and it had been about three years since I'd dated one. I took a long look inside myself and realized that I honestly don't think I'd ever want to date a guy other than Chris. (I mean, EW. No offense to boys reading this, but you all smell funny.) Thinking about boys makes me want to brush my teeth a lot.

Basically, Chris is an exception. An exception that pursued me for two years before I finally let him catch me. I will never feel certian things for him, but those things seem to be optional, at least for the moment.

Am I sliding back into self-destructive patterns by dating him? Yes, definitely. Can I manage the spiral? I think so. There was never any surer way for me to hit bottom than by dating males, for me; the heterosexual lifestyle brings with it pressures to conform that I've never been good at coping with. I am always asking myself, "Is this how I'm supposed to act? Am I doing the right thing?"

This time, though, I'm aware of the spiral, and I think I can manage it. I'm older, and I have a few more examples of healthy het relationships to go by. Also, because Chris and I have seperate social lives, a lot of the pressure is off me to act correctly in front of our friends.

It's also helped that Chris has basically come to me and said that he'd rather see me happy and away from him than unhappy and with him. Those were the words I needed to hear; the simple acknowledgement of my unhappiness, without defensiveness, blaming, or the ever-annoying "What can I do to make it better?" [The answer to that is always "go away."]

I do love him, and when all is said and done I've risked the anger of everyone I know, the censure of several social groups, the loss of my identity, and the disdain of a number of people in order to be with him. I did know what I was getting into.

I'm a grownup. Occasionally, I manage to act like it.

I didn't really write at all for a few weeks, because of all of this. I'm still not up to writing poetry--evil nasty want-to-hurt-someone anger comes oozing out of my fingertips every time I try, and so for the moment i'm leaving it be.

I don't know how long I'll need to do that. Might be forever.

I'm avoiding poetry stuff right now. I've never been a big fan of the "scene", and now it just reminds me of something I've lost.

My surgery went just fine. The first few days afterwards were spent in a haze of codiene-induced bliss. I like the narcotics, and boy do they ever like me. It took me about a week to really feel like myelf again, and now I'm 16 days out and feeling more or less normal.

I got to see pictures of my uterus, ovaries, and fried tubes. It was really nifty. She burned off a bunch of endometriosis on the back of my uterus (probably the cause of my fall over the holidays) but the real surprise is that my ovaries are completely 100%...normal. No cysts.

I've been diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome for 10 years. Now, it appears that I simply don't have it any more, if I truly ever had it in the first place.

What it seems like now is that I am basically oversensitive to androgens, and since i'm on a drug that reduces androgen sensitivity, my ovaries have reverted to normal. This is good, good news, and it means that my body is finally really truly beginning to heal.

(now if it would just heal the extra lard off my ass, we'd be talking.)

Almost on impulse today, I went in halvsies with Misha on a Market Basket. Basically, for 20 weeks from June to October i'll be getting a bag of yummy yummy produce from the Market. Not only will I be buying locally, but the fresher food is the better it tastes. (and it's really too much food for one person, but it's ideal for two who eat lots of fruits and veggies.)

Mmmm. Okay, life will be good this summer.

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