I spent 20 years obsessing over an ideal life that doesn’t exist.

“Celebrate this moment.” (Adobe Stock)

I was fourteen when I decided I wanted to be a minister.

I wanted to be impressive and ministry seemed like the most admirable career for a young believer surrounded by believers.

Years later, I rerouted and chose a different path when I learned (the hard way) that good ministers were obligated to be sin-free, sexless, and straight.

A group of teen “leaders” at a church I attended during my sophomore year of college, spent most of their time admonishing sexuality and praying that queer people would “find their way back to God”.

I didn’t like the rules and I didn’t respect the messengers. Hypocrisy makes me itchy. I quit church, kept God, and decided to pursue paths with a little more room for humanity.

I was twenty-one when I decided to be myself.

Woke up one day and peeled off the pageant dress I’d been wearing for most of my life.

A gown bedazzled with innocence and naivete, complemented by ignorance and dependency.

A gown inherited and tailored, reimagined for every woman with my last name. I grew up in environments where women were only loveable when cooperative and agreeable. There wasn’t room for a bold, vibrational voice like mine. My opinions made…