Community Rainbow Waves

Lesbian out and proud finally

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION ABOUT ABUSE.

When I came across this website, I had no intention of posting my story but reading this particular paragraph written by Dominique P-C “milestones appear when I take the time to observe what does and does not bring me happiness and then having the courage to make the changes in my life to align that which isn’t working” it made me realize I haven’t been as happy as I could be so it was time to sit back, take inventory of my life and take the time to realign myself.
I first realized I was a lesbian when o was 12. I noticed I tended to gravitate toward one female friend at a time and found myself disappointed when they developed relationships with boys. I suppressed this for a long time. I thought I can’t be gay. While I was realizing my sexual orientation my parents got divorced. It became easier to suppress because both my parents got remarried. You can only imagine the fear I had coming out when my mom married a physically abusive man who said we couldn’t bring home an African American never mind being gay. My dad married a woman who was a faithful Roman Catholic and my father also started practicing faithfully at this time. My step mom to this day is very emotionally and mentally abusive person. As I sat through church every Sunday knowing this religion believed I should go to hell for being gay, you can only imagine the fear I had wanting to come out to them.
As high school went on, I did everything I could do to please my parents. I graduated 4th in my class, volunteered, worked, and played sports and did what I thought all parents wanted. I was met with a mom who didn’t show up for one game or award ceremony. She told me I would never get into college, let alone be a nurse. I ended up getting into the best college in the northeast of the US. This is when my sexuality as a lesbian crept back up. This is when I started my drug and alcohol endeavour to suppress those feelings. I thankfully retained things well and could pull off good work at the last minute. I did what my mom said I couldn’t do and graduated on the dean’s list and got my nursing degree and license.
I immediately left home after this to get an apartment with friend and my lesbian instincts were in high gear at this point. All my life I had something to prove to get acceptance from my parents. I had no one to prove anything to anymore and was left with my own feelings. I became an alcoholic. I functioned and went to work but that was the only time I was sober. It happened to be one of those drunken nights when I finally said out loud I am a lesbian. It felt like a weight had been lifted and I could finally breath.
When I told my parents they were receptive at first, but as time goes on the tune has changed. I ended up meeting the love of my life, who I am now proud to call my wife. I remember our first date we went to the beach and stayed there all night til 4am because we didn’t want to leave each other. I knew that night I wanted to be with her the rest of my life. She had her own struggles including being hospitalized with cystic fibrosis (a chronic lung conditon) and pancreatitis. Despite the obstacles with her illnesses, I knew that night I was all in. Hearing her stories while hospitalized including coding and being brought back to life was incredible. She is the strongest woman i have ever met to endure what she has had to endure. We habe spend weeks on the hospital at a time, to be home for a week to be back in the hospital for weeks at a time again. The past 5 years we have been lucky enough to have no hospitalizatons. In have spent an amazing 7 years with my wife. She is strong, resilient, honest, faithful, loving, caring, compassionate, beautiful, smart, and puts everyone else first despite what she has been through. She is extroidinary.
My family “accepted us” at first, to later be met with comments like if you were a boy I wouldn’t be comfortable with you being gay or you and your wife don’t bother me because you don’t show affection in front of us. It is sad to know I can’t show affection to my wife in front of my family. I am sick of hiding what makes me happy and it is my relationship with my wife.
My wife put up with a lot to be with me. She helped me deal with my alcoholism. When I first met her, I could suppress the alcoholism but it eventually came out roaring and my wife almost left me due to the decisions I made while drunk all the time besides work. I am proud to say I have been sober for a year and a half with her help. She has helped me help myself become a better, stronger, smarter, honest and more caring person. She helped me become a better nurse. I can’t thank her enough. I put in the work with lots of therapy and I did it for me and on my own, but couldn’t habe done it without her support.
It is sad to know I can’t be myself around my family. They are also big drinkers and now that I am sober, the one thing I had in common with them disappeared. I no longer fit in and they don’t understand I am a different but better person sober. It is sad to know I can’t love my wife openly and honestly without judgment or feeling the need to hide who I am.
This being said in the time of COVID 19 the safety of my wife has never been more important where she is immunocompromised with a lung condition. This made me realize I need to take a step back and look at the things I do have and not the things I don’t have. I have very loving in-laws who are now my family. My wife’s extended family also took me ad if I was one of their own. I may not have the support of my family, but I have a family with my wife’s family. They love me and us as a couple unconditionally. We live simple, a good over our heads, food in the cupboard, and money to do fun things now and then, but most importantly we have each other and this beautiful love we have created.
The long and short of it is, I am no longer letting my parents affect how I love my wife from this point forward thanks to this safe place to post and read other’s stories. I am going to love my wife openly and honestly from this point forward and not be afraid of who I am. I am a lesbian woman madly in love with the woman of my dreams, my soulmate and I am not going to let anyone dictate that. I am going to continue to provide care for my patients as a nurse and do my best to keep them safe and to keep my wife safe as I along with many others continue to fight COVID 19. I am going to be my true, sober authentic self. I am going to be brave and strong and not be afraid to love my wife openly, honestly, and freely despite what my parents or this world thinks. I spent too much time hiding and I am not hiding anymore. We only get so much time on this earth to love others and treat everyone the way they should be treated no matter religion, race, sexual orientation, etc. With my wife chronically ill, it became abundantly clear that the time on this earth is short and you don’t know how long you have with the love of your life, so that being said I and going forth loving my wife freely, openly and honestly for the rest of my life.

Happily working on it…

My best friend at primary school was my first love. I remember a lot from that time although frustratingly not first meeting her. But I remember her vividly. Tall (obviously relatively) with long dark hair and a lick right in the centre of her forehead. Her name was Cassie and when one day she wasn’t well enough for us to hang out, it was the first time I recall my heart hurt. I sat on my swing and I cried.

But even at primary school at the same time I was clearly in love with Cassie I had a boyfriend with whom I shared my first kiss, and more boys and more kisses followed. I liked boys a lot – I still do, they are often the people with whom I feel most comfortable and share the most in common. But it’s easy to confuse these two feelings when you are 5! And once they are set you barely question them; society gives you no call or space to.

I didn’t know there was any other option to the fairytale ending of when boy meets girl, that was and mostly remains, ever present in our society. Until I watched Ellen coming out when I was 15. Channel 4 made it a big Friday night special – they celebrated. In 1997. At peak Friday night TV mania! I’ve never had an opportunity to say thank you to whoever made that happen (btw a generation of queers salute you) – but thanks to them I started to think about myself and who I was. And although I knew in my little world it would be hard – I had this possibility that in the big world I would join there were ways I could be me and maybe even celebrated.

I came out at university. I was 20 years old. I was practically the only gay in the village. It was 2003…

I have continued and evolved to at least try to be authentically me. What that means changes. The recent explosion (or at least it seems to me) of gender fluidity is another expansion of who you can be. And another moment for me to reflect. Who knows what that means for me yet because now I’m older there are more layers to peel back.

But the culmination of it all is where I am now. And I have a job I love, amazing supportive friends, a wonderful family – one I was born into, and one I made. The later of which includes my two beautiful little boys, who warm my world.

I’m an unconventional traditionalist. Or at least I am for now.

Bisexual

I realized that I’m bisexual thanks to a girl I met on a friend’s birthday when I was 15 years old. When I saw she I felt something different from what I knew and well we started talking and that made me happy and at first I didn’t know why but after a month I realized who I was. I felt in love with this girl and it was the first and only time that I fell in love. I knew that I felt in love with this girl the same they that my heart broke because I saw her kissing with another girl but thanks to her I knew who I was.

I’m autistic and queer…

It is exceedingly difficult in itself having a condition like autism that has made you different since you are born. It is difficult to be singled out as a child as different, and to be judged for your behavior, for the way you communicate, for how you think or see the world. But, how difficult it is, when growing up you realize that autism was not your only difference but also who you have been attracted to. It is a very lonely journey, doubly judged, where anxiety, fears take over you. Feeling confused, that you do things wrong, is a very heavy burden. but, you have to be brave, brave to assume who we really are. Assuming that the way you process the world is not wrong, nor who you decide to love. The journey through life is uphill, but not because of what they will say you must stop being you.

I’m attracted to those who are attracted to me. content warning – this coming out story contains discussion and/or mention of sexual assault and self-harming behaviour

I really struggled with my sexuality growing up. I was surrounded by boys and all I wanted to be was like my older brothers. I’d steal their clothes growing up so I could dress like a boy. I sometimes wondered if I was supposed to be one. I was sexually assaulted at a young age by someone close to me. Just typing that causes so much anxiety and shame that I know I shouldn’t feel, but I’ve never got the help that I should have and very few people in my life have been told the full story.
Over the years, I was openly attracted to boys and even had a few crushes. Under the surface there was always one girl that I would be attracted to, at different stages of my life. There was a girl during elementary, then one during middle school and high school, and then another during and after college. All of these girls identified as straight, but I was closer to them than anyone else. They had the power to determine my moods on a frightening level. It got worse as I got older. I still continued to have crushes and other feelings towards boys too, and I was much more vocal about these feelings.
When I got to college I developed a very close and affectionate, but slightly unhealthy relationship with a girl. Nothing sexual ever happened, but I became very dependent on her and this is where the frightening mood swings would come in.
I would never get violent with anyone but myself. When I spoke about her to others it would be met with questions of if I liked girls. I would say no and try to rationalize my thoughts and feelings.
I got some space from this girl, and although it took me a long time, I eventually became less dependent on her and she had less influence on my moods. It took several more years for me to come to terms that I might be bisexual, and then I realized more recently that I’m probably more Pansexual. It was actually while watching Wynonna Earp and shipping #Wayhaught that I became more aware and comfortable with coming to those realizations enough to share them with my friends. I haven’t come out and told my family directly, but I’ve said it in other ways. Everyday I try to accept myself a little bit more for who I am. My biggest struggle now is learning to love myself in every aspect, including my looks, and finding the strength and discipline to change/improve what I don’t like about myself.

First Clue… Crush on the Flying Nun

CONTENT WARNING: THIS COMING OUT STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTION AND/OR DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND RAPE.

Before I share my ripples and waves that have crashed on and around my coming out, I want to thank those who wrote before me. I am older than many of you, but your journeys inspire me to share a few from my own journey. I had set aside things I struggled with on shelves hoping one day to take them out and shine a light of a different day on them.

First Ripple…Start of my Wave…
My father and I had sat down on the couch to watch TV. The news had been on and there were images from the war raging in a foreign land. I asked him why we were fighting in Vietnam. His expression changed to one of sadness and he looked off into the distance. After a moment he said, “There are some bad people doing bad things to good people over there. We are there to stop the bad people.” He got up and change the channel came back and sat down. He smiled at me and he was my Dad again. A commercial came on the TV for a movie called 1 Million BC staring Raquel Welch. In this ad, she stepped up in a fur bikini and I was stunned, Wow. She was so beautiful! Something clicked in my five-year-old brain and I turned my head to look at my father. He had the same expression as me. Oh, I thought. I’m just like my dad. That was followed up by but ‘I don’t think girls are supposed to be like their dads.’ No, but I was like my dad. I reviewed the evidence. I loved watching Sally Fields in the Flying Nun, Bat Girl, Cat Woman and other women on TV. Okay… I’m like my father and I shelved it to investigate another time.

Dark Tsunami… Cut adrift in a Sea of Darkness
My parents split when I was seven and my mother and I relocated to northern California. Something should be said about this since it had a huge impact on my life. Between my two parents, I saw nine marriages twice to each other. I am my mother’s oldest child and my father’s baby girl; he had three girls in a row then three boys in a row. My mother’s youngest, my baby sister, rounded out the ensemble. (It’s okay; I have trouble with it, too) My childhood to this point was filed with family. When we left, I was in a foreign land… new place, new school and no family. My mother was pregnant with my youngest sister and would be strong at not tell her. I was molested by my stepfather and raped at different times by two men from the age of seven to twelve. I nearly suffocated during two of those incidents; I blacked out. This left me with sporadic claustrophobia. Those were parts of my normal childhood… yes normal. This little tomboy ran around with her friends, played soccer, football and baseball but also had few things on her shelves that she kept tucked away. She was strong, smart, empathetic and could keep a secret. Her friends and family adored her, but her secrets stayed on the shelves; she didn’t trust anyone.

Ripple… Oh, That’s What it’s Called
My early teen years had me staring straight in the face of being attracted to girls and a boy. A family friend who is a year younger than me told me she had a crush on me and kissed me. It felt like something that had been dead inside me was finally awake and I kissed her back. She and her family moved away the next week (better job not because of us). I thought about the items sitting on my hidden shelves. I took the memory of the five-year-old off the shelf. There was a TV show called “Family” that had an episode about the son’s best friend being gay. And as I watched it, I thought, oh, that’s what it’s called. I was Gay. I had a name for it, but it was still too afraid to talk about it. What if I should have been born a boy? Did God make a mistake? What about the boy I like? Those go on the shelves; the five-year-old is good.

Rainbow Wave Crashes Lovingly on My Shore…
In my sophomore year at high school during volleyball tryouts, I met the most stuck up, annoying but pretty girl ever. She had a click of friends and was trying out for the cheerleader squad. She thought I was a stuck up, elite athlete who was really funny at times, but she hadn’t forgiven me for hitting a home run off of her when we were freshmen. One day at volleyball practice, she surprised me. She asked me if I wanted to go with her to a party at one of her friend’s house. Curious, I accepted and from that point on we were inseparable. We did homework, read books, listened to music and somewhere in there, I realized I had fallen in love with her. There was no way I was going to do anything about it. She was Catholic and straight. So, we had sleepovers at each other’s houses and always slept next to each other. It made me crazy. We were staying over at my house in sleeping bags under the pool table. everyone else in the house was asleep and we were talking quietly. We were both on our tummies and elbows. We turned our heads towards each other as we were talking; our eyes locked, and we leaned in and kissed. Wow, what a kiss! She abruptly pulled away mumbling, “I can’t, I can’t do this, I can’t…” and got up and went into the bathroom. Shit, I thought, my life is f—-ing over. She’s going to tell people at school… crap… that line of thinking went on for what felt like six years but was actually about a minute. She came back in, crawled into the sleeping bag and while she was saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know…” she kissed me. And for me, game over. I was home. This was who I was. I was head over heels in love with and she with me. Wait. No one can know. My parents would be okay about but her parents, her mother would not. Fine. The love of my life goes on the shelf.

Ripple… You could’ve told me
We were together all through high school and off and on during college. She was an avid note, letter and poem writer; I had notes and letters squirreled away in my backpack till I could safely deposit them in a box down in our basement. My best friend from sixth grade and I were walking home from work one night. We were seniors and it was towards the end of the school year. She punched me hard in the arm and handed me a note with my name on it. I am pretty sure I turned pale. She had snagged it out of someone’s hand before they could read it; they had pulled it from my catcher’s mitt. Bam, another smack on the arm, “You could’ve told me.”
“Ow!” Sheepishly, I asked, “did you read it?”
“No. Didn’t have to. I have eyes and know you… I’ve always known… you’re my best friend and I love ya.” I felt lucky for her friendship but scared for being careless. My girlfriend and I were both certain that her parents found out about the two of us that would be the end of it. On top of that, they had put money away for her college and she was born to be a nurse. I didn’t want her to lose that because of me. No matter how much I loved her. Squirrel it away on the shelves.

Ripple… My heart was breaking, and I couldn’t tell her…
Being in love was beautiful and magical. Discovering sex with her was amazing except for those moments when unwanted memories would slide off the shelf and into our lovemaking. I would wake with a start or worse, shove her off of me not knowing where I was. I fought it to the point I could no longer feel her. My heart was breaking, and I couldn’t tell her. Get that shit back on the shelves!

Ripple… Wait, you outed me? Dude. Not cool.
My softball team was celebrating after a big win. I was enjoying an adult for fuzzy beverage with our shortstop out in the backyard. The discussion inside the house was a heated discussion about Sports, lesbians and who was gay on the team. Apparently, my name was added to the list. The shortstop and I came back in and heard our coach say, “She can’t be gay, she’s too pretty.”
Hell, one of our pitchers was drop-dead, model gorgeous and gay. I commented then asked, “That’s ridiculous. Whose too pretty to be gay?”
The room went silent and everyone was staring. The assistant coach said, “Uh, that would be you.”
“What—I’m pretty?” That can’t be right. I’m a tomboy, I’m like my dad. I have a Scarlet L on my forehead. How could I possibly be pretty? “Wait, you outed me? Dude. Not cool.” Great. Is there room to put that one on the shelves? Of course…

Rainbow Wave Ripples to My Shore…. WTF! Outed by my grandmother.
While in college and living with my brothers and dad, I thought it was time to share with my brothers and come out to them. I sat them down and shared that I dated women and I was gay. They stopped me and said, “Oh, we already know; Mimi (code for our dad’s mother) had already told us. She said you were different from most other girls because you liked girls. This was okay because we love you and you are our family and there is nothing wrong with it.”
What?! How did she know? Wow, though, I was moved by the words. Very progressive for someone from her era and the south. I asked her once and she just smiled at me. She said I wasn’t the only gay person in the family and left it at that. Something needs to come off the bloody shelves, but I don’t know what.

Ripple… Finally, I come out to my mother…
Summer break after my first senior year in college, my girlfriend and I were visiting my mother and her new family. We were going to watch a movie together. A few days later I was back over visiting. My mother asked me, “So, are you ever going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Me the clueless one asked.
“You and Mary?”
Oh. “I thought you knew.”
“I have suspected but the other night you took a hold of Mary’s hand and watched the movie holding it.”
Slightly embarrassed, I said, “Oh. I didn’t realize.” paused, “Mom, I’m Gay.”
“Thanks Honey. It’s nice to hear you say it.”

Ripple… Doodling Nancy Wilson of Heart
A year or so after college my girlfriend and I went to visit my parents. They had moved back in together and were engaged to get married; remarried. My mother and I were talking in the kitchen and the conversation went like this:
My mother said shaking her head, “Your dad wants to know when you’re going to get married. I told him the closest thing he’s going to get to a son-in-law from you is Mary.”
“And?”
She answered imitating him, “Aw, not my little girl. She spends a lot of time with Tony…”
Mom as herself, “Honey, they are just friends. Do you know your mother told the boys?”
“What?”
“Our daughter is a lesbian… just like your favorite cousin.”
“She told you?”
“Yes… Honey, she’s happy. Go talk to her.”
“Okay.”
———-
“Hey Dad.” I was doodling Nancy Wilson of Heart in a sketch book.
“Hey, Baby girl, uh, I was wondering if we could talk.”
I closed the sketchbook and waited. Only God knew what this would be about. “Sure.”
“Um, I don’t know how to… what I mean is…”
“Dad, is this about me being Gay?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Okay, I am.”
He sat quietly. I could see something was troubling him.
“Dad?”
He swallowed then asked, “Is it because… because you were… hurt when you were small?”
A bunch of things started slide off the shelves, but I put them back; the five-year-old was sitting next to me. “No, Dad. I’ve known since I was five. That all happened later.”
“How could you know at five?”
“I knew I liked girls like my Dad and that was different than other girls.”

There are so many other things to share but I will stop here and say coming out, dealing with gender identity versus what’s expected culturally, and everything else that life tosses our way is an on-going process, so be in it for the long haul.

I have come to understand a few things in my travels. It is important to have a sense of humor around things and not take ourselves too seriously. Our brains are wonderful things, but their job is to keep us safe; to ensure our survival. It can’t differentiate between real (encountering a bear in the woods) life threatening fear and emotional fear. It treats them the same. There can be so many things thrown at us when we are young and trying to figure who we are and how we fit in. I kept many things tightly bottled-up inside; I was strong and could take it. I wouldn’t burden anyone. I kept up my happy-go-lucky exterior until something happened and it crushed me and cracked my psyche. I was diagnosed with PTSD and the things I tried to suppress seeped into my everyday life. Flashbacks at work; at home in the bedroom. The pain was too much. I couldn’t live with it and it took the intervention of some friends for me to seek help. I got help that made my PTSD manageable. I am happy and comfortable with who I am. If you are struggling at all, check the resources listed at this site. Have faith in yourself… I don’t say this lightly; I say it with a tremendous amount of love and gratitude.

Trying to be kind

Maybe when I’m 12 or 13. I used to like to chatting with girls. I used to have strong feelings. And then I know, it is love.
I got caught by my parents. And they were so dissapointed with me. Thats makes me so sad. But, I need to accept that. Cause the country where I live now, still cant accept LGBTQ.
So, I still hide it until now.
I adore you so much with your work, with your passion, with your kindness. Do more for other. There will be a lot of ppl out there that need to be encourage.

Lesbian

i realized that i was gay when i first watched pitch perfect. brittany snow and anna kendrick just hit different. only when i found wayhaught though was i able to gain the courage to come out to my parents. i only came out to them this year, but i’ve known i was gay for about 6 years now; since i was 12. i’m forever grateful to dom and kat for portraying these roles and for coming out themselves. they have given me the greatest gift; they gave me courage and they gave me hope, and those two things inspire me to keep pushing forward and to keep fighting for what i love.

Living My Truth Paved The Way To Acceptance

Growing up in England I was abused by my grandma and mum. I don’t remember a time in my early childhood when I wasn’t looking outside the family for a “mother figure”. Growing up my dad told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, just not gay.

I came to America at 20 and went through 9.5 years of counselling to free myself from my past. For a long time I had wondered if I was gay or still just looking for a mother figure like I had in childhood. At the end of years of counselling and with my past behind me, I was able to say definitively: I am gay!

Then I had to tell my homophobic dad…he and my step-mum were stopping in LA for a few days on their way back to the UK from NZ. I went to my dad’s hotel and asked if I could speak to him alone. My heart was racing and I felt sick to my stomach. I had rehearsed what I was going to say to him for days. I looked him straight in the eye and told him I was very, very, VERY happily gay, then gave the biggest smile I could muster. He stared at me and started crying. I told him everything would be okay. He drank 5 PINTS of gin and tonic at the bar that night, and the next night.

He returned to England and I didn’t hear from him for 6 weeks. Then I got a 9 page, hand written letter in the mail from him. He wrote that I had crushed his dreams of me marrying a strapping American man who I would have kids with that would grow up to play rugby for England. My 3 1/2 year old nephew had died earlier that year and my dad compared me coming out to the death of his only grandson. It was devastating beyond words.

That was 12 years ago. 7 years ago I started watching “The Fosters” and 4 years ago I started watching “Wynonna Earp”. Both had positive queer representation with no strings attached. I realised through watching these shows that any lingering elements of self hatred were not mine, they were imposed feelings from others that I had taken on as my own.

I knew then that I could only be responsible for my personal truth and living my life in the most authentic way, no matter what. I would lead by example, I had NOTHING to be ashamed of.

I boldly introduced my dad to my then-girlfriend and he was amazingly accepting and positive. He could finally see how happy I was and after all I went through growing up, he knew I deserved happiness.

Today my dad has come full circle. Not only does he embrace who I am and is so proud of me for fighting so hard for the life I have, he also told me at my sister’s wedding that when the time comes, he would want to walk me down the aisle too.

Coming out wasn’t easy, but not being true to who I am was a WHOLE lot harder. I am happier with who I am now more than at any other time in my life!

Closets Are For Clothes

When I first started to recognize my sexuality, I was thirteen years old. I was at the movies and when the lead actress appeared, there was a rush of desire. For the first time, I understood what all the fuss was about – but I knew I had to keep it a secret. I’d grown up in a small town and I’d never met an openly gay woman, but I knew what people thought of them.

That actress was the first in a long line of crushes. I spent so much time daydreaming about those women, and it felt good and right, but I stopped short of imagining myself with a girl.

I couldn’t be a lesbian. None of the lesbians I’d seen in the media looked, dressed, or acted anything like me. This was during the 90s, and I’d internalized a boat load of homophobia. The articles I sought out in teen magazines reassured me. According to them, a lot of girls had crushes on other girls, but it was a phase they grew out of.

Throughout all of this, I was dating guys. I said yes to anyone who asked me but as soon as I had a boyfriend, I’d do everything I could to distance myself. Being with boys gave me a strange, awful, empty feeling.

Later, there was a lot of guilt to untangle about the way I’d treated these guys. Plus, I had a lot of work to do to unlearn the internalized homophobia that had made me so sure I wasn’t gay in the first place.

I went from lying to myself about it, to accepting that it wasn’t going to change. During that time, I promised myself that nobody would ever find out. Then, slowly, I realized that I couldn’t live a full life without being open. I get that it’s not that way for everyone, but I sensed that it would be like that for me.

I inched out of the closet. First, I told my siblings, then my best friends, one parent and then another, gradually other friends and family. My worst fears never came true, but it wasn’t all positive either. There were reactions that hurt like hell.

That was nearly fifteen years ago, and I’m still coming out. It’s true when people say that it never stops, but it’s not hard anymore.

There was a time when I would have done anything to make it go away. If there was a magic pill that could have made me straight, I probably would have taken it.

The fact that the world makes young people feel that way is tragic. Boil it down to its simplest parts, and people who have a problem with LGBTQ+ people just can’t handle difference. They want everyone to be like them, so they can feel that their way of being is the only correct one. That speaks to a deep insecurity and unhappiness.

I love my life. Being gay is a part of me that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I’ve got a long-term girlfriend, great friends, a job I like. I still get crushes on celebrities, and it would never occur to me to hide it anymore. Hard-won pride is pretty sweet!