Apparently I was depressing yesterday. I suppose that makes sense. I have been doing a lot of thinking about the choices that I have made in my life and dealing with and accepting where those choices have taken me. It was a process. I had to learn to accept myself. I had to accept who I am.
For a gay person, it can feel like coming out is supposed to be the best, most important part of your life. And while it was indisputably important and a huge deal for me, it was not the highlight of my youth. I knew I was different for as long as I can really remember. But I couldn't label what it was until I was a little older. Then I denied it. I didn't want a life where people hated me for who I loved. I didn't want to feel like an outcast, a failure, a reject. I didn't want to accept what it was that made me different. So I denied it. I lied to myself and everyone around me. I lied so much that I almost tricked myself into believing it wasn't true. But lies can only last for so long. The truth always comes out. And it did. It had been bursting at the seams and when I was 20, the truth exploded out into the open.
It was not some wonderful rainbow pride, new friends, new community, strong sense of identity, beautiful thing. It was messy and painful. I stopped fighting for myself. I stopped pushing forward. I got scared and I got stuck. I trapped myself in an incredibly unhappy relationship and got too scared to leave. I gave up and tried to get rid of myself. I didn't do it right. I wish I had been braver. I wish I had been able to have fun, enjoy and really live out my newfound sense of self. I wish I had been braver. Instead I was afraid of the rejection, the hurt, the loss of friends. So I hid myself and I let things happen that I never should have accepted.
My coming out was no party. But it was still incredibly important. The whole experience made me the person that I am today. I don't know if I can confidently say that it was all for the best, but it is what it is. The darkness, the failures, the disappointments, the fear, and the strength that I got from surviving those years made me who I am today. For better or for worse, I did make it through. I got lost and scared, but I still managed to push through it and keep going. And I did manage to find a strong sense of who I wanted to be. I found myself after I sorted through all the mess that I made of my life. I found someone who makes me happy. I hope I make her happy too, even when I do crazy things. (like deciding to move to Saint John . . .) I hope that I have managed to make something good out of myself. I think I am pretty good at my job. I think I might be able to have a positive impact on people. That is what it is all about. Maybe it can be easier for someone else. Maybe I can help some kid like who I used to be to feel less afraid and alone.
Maybe I am going to be ok after all. For so long I didn't care what happened to me. Then I fought so hard just to get through that I didn't really live. Now, sometimes I think maybe it will all work out. Maybe I didn't screw it all up. Maybe there is still hope for me. I always wanted a life full of possibilities and here I am thinking that maybe right now, in this moment, I do have what I wished for. I have love, I have a life. I am not perfect. I make mistakes and stupid decisions. I don't have it all figured out. I don't have it all together. But I think that my life is what it is. I did what I knew how to do, I tried my best even when it was the wrong thing to do. I still wish I had been braver. I wish I had the guts to come out younger, in a better way. It was such a mess. And I didn't get to call the shots. I let someone else make the decisions for me. I got outed through the gossip. I let someone else run my life for 2 years because it was easier than dealing with who I am. But I learned from it all. Maybe someday those experiences will matter. Maybe all the lessons I learned the hard way will be worth it all.
It is not easy for me to be honest. It is far easier to deflect, to laugh it off, to make my experiences into a punchline. But I hear that it helps to talk about things, to be open. So here is a start. I never got to come out in my own way. I got called a slut by everyone I knew instead of getting acceptance. People told me I was pretending to be gay for the attention. I didn't look or act gay enough, someone would have known or suspected if it was really true. I was a slutty attention whore. That was what I was hearing every day. Never mind that I was trying to deal with an incredibly difficult thing to accept about myself. Never mind the pressure from the world around me. And I went to school and listened to people in my classes saying gay marriage was wrong because being gay was immoral. I heard the hatred in the media, in the world. But it hurt most to have all those people not believe me. it was so hard to say it, to admit it, then to have people doubt my sincerity when I was being honest about who I am for the first time ever was painful.
That was my coming out story. Thankfully a couple of friends stuck around, no matter how hard I tried to push everyone away. I don't know how to thank those people for giving me the support that I so badly needed. One even got the idea of setting up her 2 gay friends and here we are 3 years later. Another one is forever my person. She ironed my shirts and made me dinner when I couldn't get my shit together enough to do it for myself. I learned that you cannot plan for your life. Things do not go according to plan. Sometimes you end up somewhere that you never thought you would be and you realize that after everything, life is ok. Sometimes that is enough.
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