Becoming Little Bird

A month ago, a mourning dove created a nest in a hanging planter outside my apartment. I had coffee with her the next day. It felt like such a gift to see her create a little family. A symbol of new beginnings and hope, in the wake of the worst heartbreak I have ever experienced. She incubated her two eggs for weeks. I said good morning and good night to them every day. I told anyone who would listen about my birds. The babies grew so fast and flew off about a week after I met them. After they flew away, my planter was full of bird mites and I had to get rid of it. Slowly, I began getting rid of the other (dead) plants outside my apartment that made it feel so cozy and inviting. 

My lease is coming to an end after almost three years in this silly little apartment. This space has offered me the opportunity to cultivate stability for the first time in my adult life. It has been a safe haven and space of healing for me. My cozy apartment has hosted friends and family from across the country. This space and my time in it has far exceeded any expectations that I could have had for it. 

Just like my family. 

Over the past few years in this apartment, I have learned so much about my identity: from neurodivergence to queerness to mental illness. There is so much to unpack there and I am excited to continue sharing my stories and experiences. It has been such a beautiful journey filled with so much love and abundance. When I came out to my family last year, they were nothing but accepting. They held me (virtually) through the worst heartbreak of my life, without once judging. They asked questions to learn more and were expressive of their support. What an immense privilege. 

And also a stark contrast to August 2020. Lockdown was a weird time for everyone, and my drinking problem undeniably strained all my relationships. We’ve never spoken about the day they kicked me out. I’m realizing now that we also have never spoken in detail about my alcohol use either. At least now, we can talk about being gay. 

When I look back on the unfolding of events of the past few years, it makes sense that it all happened the way it did. They had to kick me out so I could get sober. I had to be sober to sit with myself long enough to learn acceptance. I had to be in a new city to discover my identity and learn to build a life. As I embraced my childhood wounds, I healed.

I don’t believe their care and support ever wavered, but their ability to express it has expanded greatly recently. I’m able to appreciate the outcome of them pushing me out of the nest, even if it was painful when it happened. I don’t necessarily agree with many of their parenting decisions, but I’m able to appreciate the ways that our relationship has improved. They have had space to accept me as my own person, and would rather be a part of my life than lose me entirely. They saw how when I was pushed out of the nest, I learned how to fly. 

I am terrified of leaving San Diego. I have grown so comfortable here. I have so many sweet memories and friends. I finally found a job I really love. I have been able to create the life of my dreams here. San Diego was never my place though, and I said that the second I moved here. I feel grateful to have a little more time here, but secure in the upcoming decision to move closer to my family. I feel confident based on my ability to build a beautiful life here, that I can and will do that anywhere.

Talk soon,

Ken and Whisk