What do I owe to her?

Earlier this year, I went to LA Pride. I felt the need to go. By this point, I was already more than comfortable with myself. There wasn’t anything to hide. I wanted to experience another level of freedom. I had an innate desire to go and be present and flourish and have a weekend of yelling “I’m here! I’m queer!” over and over. And to be loved for it.

“I owe it to her.”

What?

I owe it to her. My past self. The little girl that was naive and later had so many self depreciating thoughts. I owe it to her. The moon and back. The love I allow myself to recieve, I owe it to her. The ability to flaunt my pride for a weekend, I owe it to her. The questions and doubts she flaundered over, I owe it to her. The confidence I now have under my skin, I owe it to her.

I owe her so so so much.

This does not mean I don’t love her, I do. I love the ways her eyes flashed with curiosity. I love her in her self-doubt. I love her in the moments of slamming her journal closed so no one could see. I love her.

As much as I think I owe things to my past self, I am able to love her.

Without her, and her story, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Without her, and her experiences, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am today.

Without her, and her existence, I wouldn’t be living today.

I love her.

It’s National Coming Out Day.

And, I salute those of you that have the courage to allow people in like you do. I salute those of you who choose to only share those intimate details with the great humans closest to you. I salute and love on those of you who are in a space of keeping things to yourself. You’re doing great, all of you.

Don’t feel like you have to be doing a certain thing.

Don’t feel like you have to be a specific person.

Don’t feel like you have to know who you are.

I just hope you are able to love yourself, and be that sweet friend to your own self.

Queer or not. Straight or not. Gender conforming or not.

You are loved.

I just hope you love yourself.

This Is My Story, This Is My Song.

Some time ago, I slowly began letting people in.

Some time ago, I began with people most close to me.

It wasn’t until 12 months ago, I found push-back. And once it began, the ball went rolling.

Here’s a small snippet of  what happened behind the scenes:

I cried. I cried, a lot. A. Lot. And cried even more. There were times I ruminated whether or not I could be both Christian and queer. There were times I thought I had to choose between one or the other. There are times I tried to imagine myself with only one label. What would my life be like if I followed the “gay agenda”? What would it look like if I could choose not to be queer? What would I do? Which friends would I lose if I did? And on top of the ones I already have? What friends did I feel safe enough to invite into my life? What friends did I hide from? Where did I feel safe? What did I call home?

I mourned. I mourned over the losses of the people in my life that decided that I would not be able to walk with them anymore. I mourned over the friends that didn't want to know the full extent of how I was doing. I mourned the friendships I treasured. I mourned the relationships that had previously brought so much light and love into my life now to be tainted with disdain.

I very much so questioned. I questioned the validity of the relationships I held in high regard. I wondered if I would be treated the same if I would have told them sooner. I wondered if they would have invested so much in me. I wondered if these relationships were true to begin with. I questioned my sanity wondering if others spent so much time questioning their own livelihood. I questioned Christianity as a religion if it were to close its doors on me. I questioned my God because of my existence and asked him to take my life away.

I avoided. I avoided people. I avoided eye contact. I avoided pissing people off. I avoided making people uncomfortable. I avoided talking about myself. I didn’t.

I feared. I feared, a lot. I feared saying the “wrong” thing would drive people away. I feared certain people would not accept me so I did not engage in conversation. I feared discrimination. I feared being misjudged and mistreated. I feared new friendships would crumble the moment I talked about my identity. I feared being labelled and misunderstood. I feared being seen as not enough Christian and too queer. I feared being outed, again, and again, without my permission.

I didn't sleep. I stayed up with thoughts racing, question asking, and streaming tears down my face. I went on late night drives. I went on walks alone at night. I thought about texting or calling others but didn’t.


These nights I spent alone.

Well, almost.

These were the days and nights I was the most honest I have ever been.

With God, I stopped filtering myself. I didn’t have to perform anymore.

And, I didn’t have the strength to be my prideful self.

This is my story. This is my experience.

To some, this may sound foreign. To others, slightly familiar.

I share this in hopes of creating paths for empathy.

To be heard. To encourage others to share.

And to be a little bit more understood than yesterday.

This is my song.

Thanks for being here.

More to come in present and future tense.

(Extra points for naming that hymn)

Hey Jude,

Over the years, I have been enjoying unravelling the depths to my emotions.

My new emotion revolves around my new car - Jude.
I haven't had my own car for over six months.
Now, I do again.
And it's a stick-shift.
There is something so much more personal about driving a manual car that I can't explain. It's intimate. The gears are shifting only when I tell them to. (If only it were that easy, there are physical factors involved.) And, this isn't a simple task. It isn't to be perfected in one sitting. Smoothly driving a manual car is to be earned. This means there are literal blood, sweat, and tears to be shed. Every time I drive I have this high anxiety mixed with adrenaline that I can't really do anything about. The first few times I drove, I wasn't strong enough to do anything about it, so I was overridden by these emotions. It showed. I stalled often. With time, I was able to be more in control of my other emotions. I gained confidence and stature. The anxiety and adrenaline still lingers, but it doesn't get my full attention. Driving does.
Sometimes, the anxiety/adrenaline lingers for an hour or two after driving. If it were to show itself physically, I would be heavily shaking often. I don't know how long this will last, or if it will continue to be with me throughout my years with Jude. But, I'm not opposed to it. Heck, it might even be able to replace coffee for me.
What ever it is, I welcome it.
Here's to me joining the fam of manual drivers!
I hope I make yall proud.

An Intro:

Thanks for finding me here!!

My name is Esther Kim. And, I'd like to call this place home. This counts as the tenth and a half place I have lived in within my 23 years of existence. While I have held a numerous amount of personal blogs (and those that don't count as blogs), I have decided that my heart is in a place to share its contents. It won't be easy. But, it is time.

Like any place of residence, let me quickly lay down ground rules.
I am trusting that by being able to publish a public&personal blog that I will be allowed to have opinions, emotions, and thought processes that are my own. I cannot guarantee that I will not offend others that read this at times, but know it is not my intention as I come from places of hurt. I plan to share personal stories here, but I don't plan on using real names, if anything, please keep them confidential as I have.

That being said, I will not tolerate any hatred or negative comments on this blog. This is not for myself, but in the protection of other individuals who may be triggered by the content others may bring. I continue to hope to grow and build safe spaces, and I think this blog should have the ability to be and feel safe for others.

One of the reasons I think it is important to launch this blog is due to the overwhelming amount of minority and underrated cultures I identify with. I am a Korean-American who is stuck between the generational gap of being Korean or American "enough". I struggle with my mental health. I am Christian and I identify as queer. I am queer (she/her) but, I still hold onto the God that knew me before the womb. I am a "super-senior" with a vision of where I see myself in 5 years, as I continue to identify as a broke college student.

This is not an easy process. But, it is one worth experiencing. My life is one worth sharing (as is everyone's). So I choose to do so.

I am no longer holding onto the chains of what others think of me, but have learned so much of myself and my God that I am confident with who I am.

This is my journey, thank you for joining.