Disclosure Statement
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When my cousins found out that my family does not speak to me. they asked "why?" as we do, and get the same answer. My youngest cousin, closest to me in age and in heart, always crosses his arms and shakes his head when we talk about it; saying,"I just don't get it, Liz. I just don't know how they could do anything like that to hurt you so much." The sadness is heard in his voice, in his body stance--I feel the pain he shares with me, the sadness that envelopes us when we touch on that subject. "Their loss," he says. "Their loss."
Dear Jaime,
You asked about the whole story of why, or at least how, I have both a wife and a husband.
I have known I was bisexual since my first encounter with a woman at age 14. (She, in fact, was the person who read the blessings for my marriage to Gary, in a ceremony held in our meadow.) Of course, I didn't know the name or label for my urges, but knew that I got a thrill looking at the Playboys mom hid under her bed. (I am assuming they were actually read "only for the articles".) Mary Ann once confronted me when I had received a Victoria's Secret catalogue. I think I was about eleven years old. I still get shivers when I remember the intensity of her questioning.
When arriving in Denver I was reunited with my first lover. She was in the SWP and I began my life of political action at about that time. I remember marching in the "homosexual" faction of the antiwar marches with the chant "ho ho homosexual, the ruling class is ineffectual". Quaint, huh?
Many men and women later, I joined the woman's bookstore collective in 1978 and became more radical in my lesbian politics. I quit the collective over censorship issues; they wanted to ban a book about S&M and I would not vote for the censorship. Still, I thought of myself as a radical lesbian and continued my thorn-in-your-side attitude.
Reagan was coming to power about then and I decided I had better get a "real" job. I found one in photofinishing (my career at the time) and fell in love with a man. (Damn did I lose friends over that one!)
Jack was with me when I went to see (Aunt) Alice for the last time. I am still thankful for those few moments with her... did you know that she was the only one in the family who nurtured my artistic side? She called me "her little artist". When I graduated (GED) she sent me DaVinci's book on the human body. One of my treasured possessions to this day.
I digress. Through all these years I continued to take college courses whenever possible. After leaving the photofinishing job (about the time mom had lung cancer, and was fully into her alcoholism) I went back to school and met a woman with whom I shared some rollercoaster years.
In 1985 I began my career as a domestic violence counselor and legal victim advocate. I was working with women who were disabled and victims of domestic violence and/or caregiver abuse, and women who had become disabled as a result of domestic violence. I stayed in the field for ten years. I was active in about every (human services) cause I could find. My politics turned into a career as a professional volunteer and Board member.
I met my wife at that time and she moved in shortly after that. (Ever hear the joke: What does a lesbian take to her second date?? A U-Haul.) Still in the gay politics, the chant had changed to "we're here, we're queer, get used to it!" or the ever popular "we're here, we're queer and we're goin' shopping!" At that time amendment two became a reality on the ballot and I was asked to be a board member of the group organized to fight it, then called EPOC, now renamed Equality Colorado. About that time, We exchanged rings and repeated vows to love each other. Forever.
We woke up the morning after amendment two was passed with a new appreciation of discrimination. We kept our rainbow flag on the porch and were harassed and vandalized, but never let it change our decision to remain "out" in Arapahoe County--one of the counties that had the most votes for the amendment. I quit school to work on the aftermath, cleanup, and strategies to build the community.
During all this time, I met a great guy named Gary. He was a mobile mechanic, and I owned a Subaru purchased for $1.00. We saw a lot of him. He met us as a couple, and so was able to fall in love with me, and with this little feisty woman named Candy. When it came time for my 40th birthday, she and Gary sneaked around and fixed my dear Mazda (blown engine gasket) for a birthday gift. Candy hired a belly dancer and a clown for the big day. He was part of our lives, and a great friend of Candy's from that time onward.
Candy was a junkie and an alcoholic. I had done every drug I could get my hands on in the '60s and '70 and had fought off a severe cocaine and acid addiction with something I thought was "harmless". Probem was, I couldn't live without marijuana. But of course, she was the addict, not me. I sent her to treatment centers all over Colorado. Finally had to ask her to leave. It was tough, very tough. We had been together three years.
Gary was there to console me and ensure I was numbing by supplying the reefer. The day I asked Candy to leave was the day my memories of sexual abuse by dad's mother came back to me. Grandma had always been severely mentally ill and it was ignored, not spoken about, and of course, never accepted as a problem.
She took her grief out on me the day she learned that her son had been killed. She had also abused my father, who reminded me on his deathbed that "grandma never hurt you" ( protecting our abuser with his dying words. Grandpa (remember we always called him "pop"?) has been my guardian angel throughout my life. I had told pop about the abuse.
I will never forget the look on his face, the apology, the statement that she had hurt his children as well, and the promise that he would seek help for her. He died about six months later. Pop was there with me the day I remembered the abuse; he held me in his wings and let me cry and scream until there was nothing left to do but sleep and try not to dream.
I quit working in human services and called the best facility I could find. I began therapy a week later. Gary and I got together as a couple about a year later. Candy was still in our lives, but we set limits and asked that she call only when she was sober. It was very hard for me, and for our best friend Gary. But she was the addict, not us!
So we moved onward. We got a chance to live here at Carter Lake in a strange little cabin tucked in a pine forest with a meadow in front. Candy was our first visitor. Gary and I were married August 10, 1995, and the blessing ceremony was held in the meadow two days later.
In November of 1995 I told my therapist how much dope I was smoking and she referred me to the treatment program in the same facility. I entered it in January. Five days after I got clean from reefer and nicotine, Gary got clean from alcohol and reefer. Finally. We realized that an addict is an addict, regardless of the drug. We found Narcotics Anonymous.
Candy kept in touch, we pulled her out of a few shooting galleries and into a few detox centers. Then one day I told her that I would always be at such-and-such a meeting at this place at this time, and she could meet me there. But no more enabling. May 9, 1997, Candy met me at that meeting. She has worked to stay clean ever since. She remains an integral part of our lives today.
That's it babe. Too much information, a bit of rambling, but I tend to do that. I love you and wish you the very best. And, thanks for being my older brother. I really needed one!
love, Lisbeth (aka: Lizzie aka: duck)
How To Save Narcotics Anonymous
Jimmy K.'s speech on the 20th anniversary of Narcotics Anonymous
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