♥ the broken heart trifecta ♥

Octopuses have three hearts. The job of one of these three hearts, the systemic heart, is to circulate blood throughout the body. Meanwhile, the other two—the branchial hearts—have the task of pumping blood to the gills so they can pick up oxygen, and that’s the blood the systemic heart uses. Three hearts just to keep the creature alive, while humans only need one. If an octopus were to lose one of its branchial hearts, could it keep itself alive? It would only be able to use one of its gills, but it’d live. The question is, though, for how long? 

An octopus living with one branchial heart and one gill is similar to a human living with only one lung, but what about a human heart? We only have one, after all. If it fails, that’s it. We don’t get a second chance. Humans get one heart, one life, one chance. Our hearts can break, and most of the time we can endure and survive a broken heart. But what about those of us who don’t? I’ve heard about people who have died from a broken heart. It’s rare, but not impossible. It sounds like something out of a storybook, I know; yet, we encounter similar things everyday. People have taken their own lives before because of a broken heart. 

How many times can a human heart break before it becomes unbearable? 

My first heartbreak didn’t sink in right away. I was thirteen, maybe fourteen. My family and I were visiting my grandparents in Durango, Colorado. We try to go there every summer and every other Christmas if we can. We usually stay at my grandparents’ house. That particular summer I remember vividly because it was the last time I ever saw my grandmother. She passed away in March the next year, shortly before quarantine began. But I also remember that summer for another reason.

My grandmother was an avid churchgoer. She loved the Bible, loved God, loved attending church. My parents and I didn’t go to church very often except for when we visited her. I remember attending Bible camp when I was younger, but my mother later told me that she only did that because her friends enrolled their kids. I used to pray before bed. I don’t remember when I stopped, but I do know my grandmother was part of the reason. One of the last conversations I had with her was about God. 

I had met a friend online a few months before through a writing website called Wattpad. We chatted constantly, bonding over our shared love of a cartoon, writing fanfiction together nearly every day. They were the first person to call me Tiggs outside of my family, as it was the pen name I chose for myself. They went by Derpy for a while, after their username. We shared our real names after our first video call. Around the summer I visited my grandmother, they had come out to me as nonbinary. I already knew they were a lesbian and had even helped encourage them to come out to their dad. I was very proud of them.

I can’t recall exactly how it happened. How I brought it up, how things escalated. But I mentioned Derpy to my grandmother, about how they liked girls. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. It’s just who they were. But my grandmother didn’t agree with me. She took it upon herself to “open my eyes.” For hours, she told me how my friend was going to burn it hell, that I was going to burn in hell. I spent most of the day in tears. At her house, in the car, at Walmart. She wouldn’t drop the subject, not until I understood. Not until I accepted “reality,” not until I accepted “God’s plan.” My grandmother told me that my cousin is gay. She explained—to me, a child—that yes, that was the way God made him, but he was still going to burn in hell. Just imagine—a young girl being told by her loving, well-meaning grandmother that she was going to hell simply for being best friends with a lesbian. 

My mom didn’t get my SOS texts until she returned from the park. She got into a fight with her mother that night. I heard them screaming at each other in the sewing room. I remember feeling guilty, overhearing them. Knowing they were fighting because of me. My mom was angry because she’s my mother. She chooses what to teach me, and this was not it. My grandmother tried to argue again: “I’m just trying to teach her.” Teach me what? I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand. My mom jumped to my defense, explaining that God said love is love. That threw my grandmother for a loop. Even months later, she couldn’t drop the subject, calling my mother to ask, “Where in the Bible does it say that?”

The entire experience reshaped the way I viewed my grandmother, someone I once looked up to. What I hate most of all is that this was the last time I saw her. The last memory I have of her. Not only did this one conversation shape how I viewed her, but it also shaped how I view God. I now know that not all Christians think this way, that not all of them are homophobic, but I still don’t know what to think. My grandmother’s voice haunts me, always lurking in the back of my mind when I think about my own queer identity. You’ll burn in hell, Teghan. She’ll drag you down with her. What my grandmother didn’t know is that she was the one dragging me down. Not to hell, but into myself. Hiding myself away, never revealing how I really feel, who I really am. I don’t want to disappoint my family.

When she died, it destroyed me because I didn’t just lose my grandmother once. I lost her twice; the day she broke my heart and the day she died.

Sometimes I think I’m going to break my own heart, but I worry more about breaking someone else’s than I do my own. I really am my father’s daughter, always looking out for everyone else but never considering myself.

I know I’m queer, in some sense or another. When I read the second Magnus Chase book, I really connected with the character Alex Fierro, who’s genderfluid, as gender fluidity is common in Norse mythology. This is relevant as Alex not only identifies as genderfluid, but also because Alex is a demigod, and their godly parent is Loki; more specifically, Loki is Alex’s mother, not father—Loki gave birth to Alex after seducing their dad, a mortal. In the original Norse myths, Loki is genderfluid because he’s a shapeshifter and can change his gender and appearance. Rick Riordan, the author of Magnus Chase, wrote Alex’s character with this in mind. Being queer is not a new “trend” like some people claim it to be. It’s been around for centuries; it’s a part of history. Norse myths prove that. But transphobia has also been around for centuries.

In the book, some of the gods refer to Alex as an argr, a Norse term that means “effeminate” and “unmanly.” In other words, it’s a derogatory term in the Norse language, not unlike a slur. It reminded me of my experience with my grandmother, all these gods hurling insults and shaming their own children for who they are. Sometimes they don’t have a say in who they are. In the words of Lady Gaga: Baby, I was born this way. 

Alex Fierro wasn’t just my gender awakening. They taught me to embrace who you are, no matter what anyone else thinks. Alex didn’t give a fuck what other people thought of them. Of their personality, their clothes, their identity... They reminded me so much of myself. Always authentically themself, embracing the weird, not giving a damn: “You’ve got to flaunt the weird, my friend.” But even Alex—bold, brilliant Alex—was only flaunting certain parts of themself, displaying a persona of a sort. Because Alex is still human. They are a demigod, yes, half god and half mortal, but still human. They didn’t trust people at the start of the book because they’d been hurt one too many times before. I couldn’t relate to that aspect of their character until much later. 

In the terms of my own fictional characters, as in the ones I’ve created and written about, many of them wear their own masks. Sometimes it’s a literal mask, like Eridanus and his wolf mask (the one I have tattooed on my wrist) and Sweety and his masked pop star persona. Other times it’s figurative, like Darius with his internalized homophobia and self-hatred that he hides beneath a smile and jokes or Matt with his depression and self-doubt that he only expresses through his music. The funny thing about these four characters I’ve mentioned? They’re actually the same two characters. Darius is Eridanus and Matt is Sweety. They both wear masks.

I wonder if that’s because I wear one, too. 

to be continued in the next issue!