Empty Love

I can’t help but ask the question, is this diagnosis a punishment for finding the wrong love? Is it true what they say, I have sinned and now I must pay? Now that I am aware of my death, I ruminate about if I am going to hell… What would you do?

I guess I have known most of my life that I felt different than others. I often led with my heart over my mind. Always noticing beauty in women characters over male counterparts. I attempted dating guys when I was young, and wouldn’t feel the electric touch everyone mentions when they talk about their first love. It felt shallow and as if something was missing. I often wondered if I was broken. Unlovable. It was not until I caught my heart skipping and the words fail to exit my mouth when I realized the girl I admired in class was speaking to me and her arm brushed against mine. I felt the energy flow through my body. I felt ashamed as I had been taught these feelings were wrong. I found myself always seeking out deep friendship, but desperately wanting more. I wanted love. But where I come from, love with someone of the same sex is considered sin. It is a shameful thing. So when my heart carried me too close, I would panic, shut down and run. 

It is confusing and isolating to be taught God loves all… But hear how he does not accept something about me. I had questions, but nowhere to confide. My family, church, and community would tell me I can always talk to God and he would listen, but what if what I have to ask is something you say he disapproves of? It is only real if it’s spoken aloud right? 

When I went off to college and into the adult world after I graduated, I realized I didn’t have to be pigeonholed into one view of the world. Without the hovering control over what I consumed and associated with, I got a glimpse of people of the same sex married and with families and it struck me that maybe I could too. I made friends who were open about being allies and would eventually slowly come out to them, and their response was they knew–the validation I needed to prove to myself I was shedding the shell and finding the freedom to unapologetically be me. I could be the real me and feel loved. I also learned through self-exploration that my faith and relationship with God can be one of acceptance. Where love was love and God believed in love of all kinds. The God I believe in is forgiving, is loving, is open, is listening, and is above all, mine. It was not perfect, but I felt space for being me. 

In this new community of acceptance, I stopped trying to fit in the box that I had been shoved into my whole life. I started dressing in clothing that reflected me, not someone’s version of me. Casual, comfortable, and toned down. I was able to become more free in the way I spoke about love and life. In coming out to one person, the next became easier. The more safe I felt. I peeled off layers of isolation, hopelessness, shame, fear, and guilt. With encouragement from my friends, I went on dates for the first time with women, and many were just that. It was like seeing my life start to turn to color. I laughed harder, smiled more, and felt full of joy. About a year later, I found comfort in sharing my heart with another and after a long journey to get there, I smiled as I sat across from someone I could envision spending the rest of my life with. 

There was only one issue… I couldn’t cut my steak.

Maybe you’re laughing, but the fear was consuming. She knew I had had lots of doctor visits over the span of months we were talking, but later that week, I received some answers. My neurological exam and extensive testing, suggested my symptoms were likely the neurological disorder, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. I sat across from the most patient green eyes framed by wavy hair that bounced with a lightness of life as she spoke, and I could not feel anything but shame. I shyly admitted the issue and with no questions asked, she pulled my plate towards her and cut my meal. My heart ached in so many ways. 

The following week, I received the formal diagnosis. Of the many flooding thoughts that one would have when they are told they have a terminal illness, a reoccurring one was the image of her. I couldn’t bear the thought of dimming her light with my illness. I also felt the impossible feelings of what was to come. I certainly can’t ask her to drop everything to take care of a dying girlfriend. I also couldn’t live alone. I had the impossible choice to make… And I chose to spare her feelings by ending the relationship that will likely be the last time I will ever know love… by choosing to return to the place I grew up and shutting the parts of me back inside. 

It felt like the only option. To be in a position of imminent death and progressive illness, I could have asked her to make a huge sacrifice and in the process of coming out, lose everything from family and friends leaving us with little to no support during the unimaginable. Or I could close myself off, receive the support from friends and family and live the final parts of my life in a lie. 

I am disappointed in myself for choosing the latter. I feel like a child playing, “Would You Rather?” and deciding to have love from many who don’t know the real me versus to be loved by someone who loves me for me. I made the choice that everyone would cringe at in that scenario, but are you cringing at my situation? I chose empty love. 

I am faced with the consequences for this choice in moments every day. I not only am grieving the loss of functions and future, but I grieve the me I want to be, could be. It is not simple. I can’t just come out and say it. If I did, I would be alone completely with no ability to take care of my needs like eating, bathing, and dressing. I fear doing so would leave me in a nursing home. I fear I will be without love, even the empty kind. I don’t want to die alone… But I also desperately don’t want to die, not being all of me. 

What would you do?