And so Here we are Again

Sorry for the abscence, it's just been a crazy few weeks. So tonight while I was having dinner with my parents, my dad said that he prays for me to change. While this was a tongue-in-cheek remark and semi-sarcastic I wondered if he meant this about being gay. True to form, and since I am my father's son, I looked him in the eye and told him I hoped that wasn't true. Then, because we don't often talk about our feelings, or show our insides, my parents got into a discussion about all their adult children. More often than not, this leads to a list of my parents failings and my eyes glaze over because I like who I am, and so I don't give them a ton of credit for screwing me up (don't get me wrong they get plenty, but I know they did the best they could). What is the point? I started thinking about the Serenity Prayer, you know this one (the one verse everyone remembers): "God grant me the wisdom to accept the things I cannot change and wisdom to accept the things I can't and the widom to know the difference.." or something like that. 

Sometimes I envy that...you know, good sense. There is a part of me that would love to just be ok with whatever was going on in my life. I'm just not made that way. All my life I've been seeking someone's approval. There is always something to do better, faster or harder. This keeps me going. If I was just o.k. and asking God to grant me peace, what kind of life would that be? I'd just be begging life, but I'd rather be living it. In the end this desire to be better, to move forward, to conquer whatever-the-hell-is-standing-in-my-way, feeds on my weakness, the glowing embers of who I used to be. I mean things could always be worse. 

I often think about this prayer. In some ways I despise change, taking it to mean that I must get better than I am, that I am less than perfect.  The antithesis of my raising. I spent most of my life seeking approval and acceptance, not only growing up sissy in Texas, but just living in my father's house. My siblings and I are the case and point of what too much perfectionism can do, pains and benefits however they may fall. About four years ago this got me nearly hospitalized because I had stopped eating and started working out for 3 hours a day, to be perfectly thin and therefore, perfectly gay and also, by default athletic so that my father would finally understand me.