I was driving home from my sister’s house alone one evening and I caught the scent of something I haven’t smelled in a long time, and had no reason to be smelling it at that moment. It was the smell of my father’s preferred e-liquid Desert Ship. It was one of the few tobacco flavors that he enjoyed, but when it was vaped, it didn’t smell like tobacco and didn’t smell anything like cigarettes.

This was the second time I’ve smelled this since he’s passed. The first time was the first trip we took up to the lake. He had passed that July, we went on that trip at the end of August. The loss was still fresh in my mind and my mother was not doing well medically. It caught me off guard and ripped the delicate scab off the raw wound that was my grief, I’m sure tears were shed even though I can’t remember. Then my child and I locked up, said goodbye to the lake, and set out on our way.

This time I was already on my way. I was driving in a work vehicle, coming back from my sister’s. He’s been gone for more than 2 years. There is no way that scent would be anywhere in that vehicle. And while it obviously caught me off guard again, it did not break me down.

He’s been gone for a while, and while some people would argue that nearly 2.5 years isn’t long enough to get past grief, that loss (in spite of how badly it hurt in the moment) resulted in an abundance of personal growth. Growth that would never had happened otherwise… Or it would have happened, but ended up in an unhealthy manifestation.

I have these assumptions about how he would have reacted if I had come out, because of how he reacted to some things when I was younger. But in reality, I will never know how he really would have reacted. For better or worse, that is an experience that I will never know the reality of. And frankly, the conversations with my mother are difficult enough and she is more prone to just accepting what I say at face value, while he would have been digging incessantly. Forever seeking details that I wasn’t prepared to give.

Its better not knowing.

I exist in an almost constant state of music consumption, sometimes it shapes my mood and other times it echoes it, a soundtrack from a blip in my life.

Every screen shot sent, revealing a little more of my hand than I intended, but it doesn’t matter because it reveals is the truth more than I already have. They may be more revealing than any selfie I could take.

I can feel my masks dissolving, little by little. Masks that have been ever-present for so long that I had forgotten they were even there. I feel myself opening instead of closing off, like I have been for so long.

I feel my caution and hesitations falling away, leaving me questioning why I thought how I felt and behaved all of that time was normal. How was living so confined emotionally and mentally comfortable?

Truly feeling the freedom to express myself. Not yet, but I’m getting there. It takes time after being so suppressed for so long. It feels like unfolding origami, if the paper were made of my sense of self instead of tree fibers.

2/9

DIY

About the Author

I am Sarah, a late blooming queer individual exploring my past experiences through introspection and internal work as well as talking to others and having conversations that lead to further thought experiments. This is an evolution of being in real time.

I’ve written heavily on the grief of losing my father suddenly and how that has resulted in my transformation, and the grief of losing my friend and brother to cancer. I’m writing more recently on my experiences and realizations and incorporating some DIY and hobby content where I can.

Thank you for reading 🙂

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