Community Rainbow Waves

Chris. P.S. Believe in yourselves. Dream. Try. Do good. -Mr Feeny

Growing up in a place where being part of the LGBTQ2IA+ community is not widely accepted, I was homophobic. No one said outright that being gay is bad. However, “gay” was being used as a slur, an insult. I understood and took to heart the underlying implication that gay equals bad or less than. Furthermore, it was also implied that more feminine men were not “manly” enough and more masculine girls are just “tomboys” that will eventually grow out of that phase. I was one of those “tomboys”. I enjoyed hanging out with my guy friends, never understood what the deal of dresses and skirts were and what was that blusher thing every girl was talking about? But I’m going to grow out of it right? (Spoiler alert, young Chris, you still don’t understand makeup, but you will learn to appreciate your blend of masculinity and femininity you have with the collective help of Sanvers, AvaLance, Wayhaught, Hollstein, and their friends and family.)

At the age of 13 or 14, a close friend of mine came out to me as bisexual, being a child that lived in a “protected” little bubble, I had no idea what that meant. The only form of education I had on the LGBTQ2IA+ community back then included a one-hour session on gay and transgender people, which is less than sufficient, to say the least. I had no idea what “bisexual” meant!

That all changed when I moved to Canada. I got hooked on shows like Supergirl and Legends of Tomorrow. I was interested in the LGBTQIA+ community, how could I not be? The acceptance that Canada had allowed me to look at the community as something that was not to be feared. It allowed me to look at the community as what I see today: a community that houses the most amazing people you will ever meet, people that have spectacular stories, people that I now surround myself with. Suddenly I wanted to know everything there is to know about this wonderful community and the battles they have fought. Hence, I identified as an… ally. (That… did not last very long…)

Fast forward a few months, I fell for the most beautiful girl I have ever met. I had 2 classes with her: drama and biology. Upon making it to biology class a few minutes late one day, I started panicking when I realize the only free seat was the seat beside her that held her bag. I panicked looking around desperately trying to find a seat that would not require me to talk to the beautiful girl that was out of my league even as a friend. In the midst of what I would now describe as “gay panic”, she turned around and called out my name, asking me to sit beside her. Her, the beautiful and popular girl knew me, the awkward new kid’s name. (I guess you can say that was when I started a long list of reasons I like her, “nice and kind person” being on top of the list) In the words of John Green, “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” I honestly cannot tell you if it is love, but for the sake of me wanting to use that quote, let’s assume it is.

My discovery of my sexuality was the same way, for me it was not a sudden realization of “Oh, well then, guess I’m gay.” It started with a gradual “it would appear that I am indeed having feelings for this beautiful girl that I am going to question for the next few months because how could I possibly be gay? Pfttt, I am Asian, I’m not gay.” to a fast-paced, “Ha! Suckers! I’m bi!” which then became “Ok… so maybe I’m pan?” which finally became, “Ya know what? I’m queer. I like people, I have preferences but I like everyone and I like this label and so HA! I’M QUEER!” The thing is, even when I was living where I was born and was homophobic, it had always mattered more to me who someone was as a person, the other stuff? They were all secondary.

My first time coming out to someone who I was unsure whether or not was part of the community was… wait for it… the beautiful girl that knew my name. Yes, I, Chris, came out to the girl I liked in true Chris fashion: on accident. I was helping her with her art assignment because I am to this day unable to say no to people, especially people who are, beautiful, nice and kind. I was trying to help her draw grid lines (you know those ones that are supposed to help you using ratios). I was slowly getting frustrated with myself for my inability to draw straight lines even while using a straight edge, (hint, hint) when she took the paper from me and drew in the lines using the marks I made using my carefully calculated but poorly marked dots. Upon finishing it, she lifted it off the table, smiled at me and said “See, it’s straight, it’s fine,” me still slightly displeased with my inability to draw a straight line muttered, “Yeah, about as straight as I am.” Upon realizing what I just said, I looked up and saw her laughing a little before replying with “ha, good one,” before returning to what she was doing. This brought me to laughter, realizing that I came out to her with a pun. (Not my best work) I later found out she suspected, apparently I wasn’t very subtle, who knew wearing three pride bands, flannels and a backwards pride hat was being obvious? (Well then, either my family is extremely oblivious or they are just praying really hard that I am just an ally)

I was fortunate enough to come out to someone who was accepting. (This helped me be boldly queer in school) I mean sure I live in Canada, but I have learnt that even Canada where LGBTQ2IA+ folks are known to be the most accepted consists of homophobic people. That being said, I have learnt to surround myself with people that are accepting and have my back.

I wish I could say that this journey is all sunshine and rainbows. I wish I could say that even though I was nervous, I came out to my family and they were accepting. I wish I could say that I’m out and proud. But the truth is, this journey I have been on, hasn’t been the greatest. Sure, discovering this new side of me was a thrill, meeting these amazing and accepting people have made me so much happier, but the thought of coming out to my family still terrifies me. As sad as it is, I genuinely do not see a future where they truly accept me for who I am, and what is upsetting to me is not that I would lose my biological family but rather the inevitable guilt that would come along with it. The guilt of not being that good Asian child that takes care of their parents, the guilt of not getting married and having biological children, the guilt that scares me away from exploring my culture, because my culture came from them and how dare I just pick and use the parts I like?

I fight a similar war when it comes to my sexuality. Someone once mentioned that if I was really proud of my sexuality, I wouldn’t hide it. Implying that I should tell my family. I know they meant well, but that hit somewhat of a nerve, part of me knew that we should only ever come out when we know it’s safe to do so, but part of me wondered if they were right? How dare I use the people of the LGBTQ2IA+ community, when I can’t even tell the people that are supposed to be the closest to me about them?

I know it sounds harsh to say that what upsets me about possibly losing my biological family was the guilt aspect and not the actual people but I have spent so long wondering if what I had is truly what family was supposed to feel like. If family meant taking up as many courses as you can to minimize your time at home. If family meant being afraid of them. If family meant thinking that who you are is unacceptable. Then perhaps, as selfish as it is, family isn’t something I want to be a part of.

Despite me being able to say that and convince myself of that, I still feel guilty. They fed me, they kept me alive for 18 damn years. They gave up their jobs, family and lives to move to Canada to give me and my brother a better life. Why can’t I just push the part that likes anything but cisgender men aside? They have given up so much, why can’t I just give this one thing up? Why do I have to be queer? For once in my life, why can’t I just be fucking normal? Why can’t I just be a girl that likes makeup, dresses and boys? Why?

Because I like girls, I like their pretty eyes and warm hugs. Because I like non-binary people, I like their warm smiles and lovely voices. Because I like boys, I like their amazing hair and wonderful laughter. Because I like people, I like their stories and humanity. And shouldn’t that be something good?

Bisexual

I felt (and still kind of do feel) a bit confused about who I like. But I knew I was 100% in to girls as well in 2016. I came out to my friends in 2017 and I promised my self I would come out to my family soon after. It’s now 2020 and I am still in the closet with my family. I know they know I am not straight but I am just too scared to have the conversation with them. I know they will accept me and nothing ‘bad’ is likely to happen but I just can’t say it to them and I am worried that they dynamics may change, especially with my dad.

Bisexual Woman

I’ve known that I wasn’t straight for the last four years of my life, and in that time, I had only come out to two other people, both of whom are a part of the LGBTQ+ community.

Recently, as I have come to better understand and accept my sexuality, I felt that it was time to come out to my family but could not broach the subject without feeling (rightfully) nervous about it. Surprisingly enough (or maybe not so surprising), I came out to both my uncle, as well as my mom and sisters in two completely separate, yet unplanned ways.

My uncle is a jovial man who has always lovingly teased us growing up and him bringing up whether I had found a boyfriend yet was a daily occurrence which I always indulged him in by answering “nope.” For some reason, receiving this answer on a random day in July promoted him to ask if I was even interested in men. I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond, so he moved on to ask about women. When I refused to answer that as well he slyly asked about both, and having made up my mind to tell him the truth the moment this inquisition began, I simply raised my glass in toast. I wasn’t expecting a negative response, but the cheerful slap on the back and zero hesitation in his joking ways as he continued the conversation were gratifying, to say the least.

Cue two months later, we’re in early September and my immediate family still doesn’t know. I had noticed a new beauty mark on the heel of my palm that sat right in the middle of the intersection between two palm lines. I instinctively brought this up to my mom and showed her the beauty mark, and she responded by joking that maybe it’s position meant I was bisexual. I brushed off her comment, not intending to come out right that moment, but my twin sister quickly followed my mom’s comment by questioning whether I was bisexual. Now, I can’t lie to save my life. My whole family knows that. So the moment my twin asked this question I knew I’d be coming out to her, my mom, and my younger sister who was sitting with me on the couch. I answered with a simple “yeah,” and the conversation moved on. Admittedly, they were a bit shocked that I had known this about myself for the last four years, and they were completely taken aback to find out that my uncle knew before them and had kept it to himself without me asking him to, but they accepted me, as I knew they would, and that’s all that matters.

I have yet to come out to my dad and brother, and despite being out to a lot more people, I’m still nervous about broaching the subject out of the blue. I’d rather let it come about naturally, as it did with my uncle, mom, and sisters, but hopefully I can gather up the courage to let them know soon.

Clara B.

Hello,
Sorry for my bad english, I’m french.

I always felt different.
On many aspects, same for love and even more in my sexuality.

I started to have my first confused feelings for a woman when I was in middle school.
I was only 12 and it was a period that represent for me so much pain.

During a certain time, I was sexually abused from a male of my family, I was even more disoriented and lost.
I talked about it to my family many years later and about the fact that I was attracted by women.

There was a teacher I was intrigued about. She had something that made me feel like a moth in love with light and who can’t help but be around her.
I even remember going to a refresher course (well I needed it haha) in volunteer because she was teaching.
It’s fun to remember the path I have taken with acceptance.

Simply, I was a young teenager unaware and hurted. I didn’t realised the impact that it would represent in my life.
Deciding that I had already enough to manage (hiding that I have been raped to my family to protect them from suffer, my studies, all the hazards we find when we enter teenage years) I decided to put aside my attraction.

What a mistake because I soon realised that a part of me was missing. And while I was struggling to face my destroyed feelings with a big decline of self-esteem, I met this girl.

I met her in a video game, I arrived at a stage where my reality was hurting so much that the virtual was becoming my everyday.
When I could finally met her for the first time, I felt a big waves of emotions and a voice inside me was telling me that she was going to change my life.
And it was true. I loved her deeply, in secret, I was 16 nearly 17.
We were not ready to have a relationship, both of us because of our past… So it was a disaster.
However, she helped me to open myself up.
I was so happy that I started to talk about it to my friends, 2 or 3 members of my family…. They quickly accepted it.
When we broke up, I was so devastated that my mom found out that something was wrong so I told her everything.
I was so stressed because my family is religious and I will always remember my mom’s words : ” Every act done out of love is loving is the eyes of God”.

Now that I’m 22, I’m thankful. Because she (the girl I loved) broke me when she left but she helped me to accept myself.
In this grief we are forced to face the reality.
By destroying me on a short term she gave me the opportunity to rebuild myself, I searched for all the strengh I had left for it.

When we start to open up, it’s a path to acceptance. Now I’m considering myself as being Me.
I’m not in a box, a label, I don’t share this point of view to absolutely want to be dertimined.
For me, even in our similarities, we are no less different.
I will be in love of who my heart will choose, no matter the gender.
I’m into love.
I love being different.
I love my inner self and the one I aspire to become.

Natália

Hi, everybody!
My name is Natalia from Brazil. I’m a Portuguese Language Teacher! My relationship with my sexuality has always been stifled. I never liked to talk about it with anyone, not even during adolescence. When I was a kid my mom repressed me a lot about it, I grew up with no desire to relate to anyone at all.
It was never a problem to be like this, but I felt strange in front of my friends and family.
It is important to say that I was born in a family that was “more open” than the traditional families in Brazil. Definitely, Brazil is a very conservative and authoritarian country in some issues, especially as of 2018, despite the plurality of our population.
Another point is that in Brazil there is not much representativeness. An impacting data is: Brazil is one of the countries that kills homosexuals the most, but, it is also in the leadership in audience on LGBTQI+ porn sites.
To recap: at the end of 2020, while on vacation, I started to reflect on who I am. This is so recent. Sometimes I feel afraid. I am in a daily discovery and hope to get there. Discovering Start The Wave is being a relief.
Thank you all so much. !!!!

Becoming Gabe

As someone who spends their time writing and creating stories, I struggle with mine. I’m still figuring this all out, still taking things day by day, but for as long as I can remember, there’s been a part of me that didn’t quite fit with the rest of me. It was like a puzzle piece that was somewhat shoved into a space, even though the edges were too sharp, and the middle was distorted. When I was thirteen, I realized I liked girls and boys. It was terrifying, as I wasn’t exactly raised in the type of household where things like that were easily accepted. So, I came out to my friends at school, but lived a lie outside of it. I had secret girlfriends, secret social media accounts, and I refused to come out to anyone remotely considered family because I was afraid that they would abandon me. (I have abandonment issues, but that’s for a different time and place.) After I “came out” as bisexual, it took about five years for me to drop the ‘bi’ part and accept that I liked women. This was before I understood that bisexuality didn’t have to be fifty-fifty. Regardless, up until the age of twenty-three, I was a regular lesbian. I was what some might consider a ‘stud.’
Now, here’s the hard part. I’ve recently moved away from home, living away from my parents and from old friends, and I’m in an environment where I have no choice but to be honest with myself. This new city and new home literally forced me to be myself, and what I discovered has altered every aspect about my life. So, remember I said I was a lesbian until the age of twenty-three? Well, I turned twenty-three last September, and around that time, I had a massive reality check smack me in the face. I was living a lie. I came out to one person, and it was a complete accident. Sort of. She somewhat pushed me out of the box I was hiding in, and I started the very long road to acknowledging, accepting, and respecting the idea that it wasn’t the sexuality that was wrong. It was the identity. And by that, I mean…
It wasn’t whether I liked girls or boys or everyone in between.
It was the fact I was doing so as a woman.
With that said, to whoever reads this or comes across it, I’m Trans. I identify as a man.
Crazy, right? Saying it, even on a computer, still gives me horrible anxiety because I haven’t crossed that bridge to full acceptance. I’ve only taken small steps, but they’re more freeing than any lie I’ve told myself over the past several years.
There are people who still don’t know, and there are people who know that don’t know how to treat me anymore. Then there are the wonderful people in my life who took it in stride and treat me the exact same. It’s freeing, terrifying, and nauseating all at once. But I wouldn’t change this. Not now. Not after finally finding myself.
I, Gabriel, am a man who likes people, who loves love, and who hopes that this journey will continue to bring me happiness and peace of mind.

Gay (lesbian)

By pure chance I came across some videos on YouTube that brought me to Dominique’s profile and read this incredible post. Everything I have read has inspired me, I have felt identified and has made me wonder about so many things in my life.

I am 28 years old and since I was 12 or 14 years old I was attracted to women, men only saw them as friends, despite feeling all this I only dated men.

At the age of 22 I decided to stop and accept myself, accept that it was impossible for me to have sex with men and I did not see myself with any of them. I sat down with my best friends and told everything I had hidden until that day, it should be noted that my best friends are gay and I was still afraid. My friends understood.

Today with 28 years, I still feel that I am afraid to talk about it with other people, even my family does not know it, this has brought me problems of having a relationship as I would really like to have it. I am patient with myself and with the stages of my life.

This post has made me think and reevaluate my values, my passions, my whole life, rethink what I want and it has let me know that I have neglected a part of me that feels imprisoned. I want to be happy.

Lesbian/Gay

I’m older than a lot of you but still thought I’d share. When I was in 3rd grade I had a crush on my best friend a girl and also a boy in my class. Well I soon figured out I just liked him as a friend. Then 4th grade we had this gorgeous student helper. I continued to have these feelings as I grew but I hid them throughout high school. I came from a very religious family and you couldn’t do anything worse than being homosexual. It was right up there with murder….! So I dated boys and even married but it only lasted a year we had plenty of issues. It was only after I was divorced at the age of 21 that I met this incredible woman and she was everything that I’d ever I wanted. I allowed myself to feel the things I had hidden deep down and I was flooded with something I’d never known….happiness! We have been married for 5 years now and I’m so happy I was finally able to be me. So coming out is a process that I still do after all these years. My family found me disgusting for many years. They slowly let me back into their life’s. When I work with someone new the question always comes up, so are you married and do you have kids? I tell them the truth which I feel is coming out again and again. At least it’s easier now and most don’t say anything even if they are against it.

Love has a short life, there is no limit to oblivion… But that’s the value of love.

Since childhood. But the realization and acceptance of myself came at a more conscious age. Now I’m happy about it. I’ve been living with the person I love for a few years now and the wonderful thing is that for her I was a revelation of her sexuality and an opportunity to realize that the world is not only black and white. I live in Russia, a country that tolerance and understanding of such I am not particularly different, there is still slipping the foundations of the past, and that’s probably a minus, but there are many like me that gradually we change the attitude to us.

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.