The aftermath: coming out

27 Aug

So, I mentioned in my last post that I came out to my parents via an emailed letter to them (a version of which I posted earlier in this blog). I had been meaning to wait and tell my dad in person, and then email them both this letter. However, in light of my recent (or at least FEELING recent and raw) break-up, I broke down in the car crying with my mom.

My spirit was beat-up, and really, really exhausted. And the thing is kids– we can’t do it alone. This thing, this part of me that I’d treated as insignificant, had become a separator and it was and has destroyed things I’ve built that I valued.

See– I kept thinking: it’s not a big deal. I am brunette. I like women and men. I really like sushi. I hate Kraft mac and cheese.

Then there was the sneaking up on me, thing that happened. Where a relationship I enjoyed became a relationship I cherished. Where something that might have stung at one point instead had me retching and writhing on the floor, not eating, not drinking, from the loss of it.

It is somewhere within that space that NOT telling my family became more devastating and scarier and lonely and created more distance than telling them ever could. Not letting my mom know why I couldn’t sleep, why I cried while laying in the car sobbing and heaving and gagging from loss, why my heart was so broken– this became not doable any more.

So the silver-lining to the twisting tearing end of Lovely and I is ironically the very thing that could have kept us together. Like, forever. The pain of not sharing who she was to me became more unbearable than the pain it took to share this part of me with my family– who I know will and are struggling.

My dad has not talked to me, responded to me, or answered my calls since I told him. My mom emailed me saying that she was overwhelmed by the information, and it would take her time to process before she could talk to me. So basically, neither of my parents have contacted me since I let them know. So basically– of the four people I would have said I love most in this whole entire world– 3 of them are not speaking to me at all. My poor sister…. 🙂

And you know what? Instead of the deep sinking pit feeling, I feel the feeling you feel after running a hard race. I am tired, and I have to sit down, and sip water, and rest– but I feel empty in a way that is refreshing. Light in a way that exposes you to the way you have been carrying something heavy for a long, long time.

I am marrying all the parts of my life, and being a person who values authenticity, this fractured portrait of myself has been more exhausting than I realized to maintain. I want everything– and I don’t want the prejudice of ignorance to ever destroy my happiness or my relationships again. I let that happen, because I was scared of what I would lose.

My wisdom now whispers, you were losing everything anyways. I would have continued to grow apart from my dear ones if we hadn’t had this conversation, and I would have just lost my Love, my family, and myself. It is amazing the severity of damage silence can do.

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One Response to “The aftermath: coming out”

  1. Chocolate Covered Race Medals August 27, 2013 at 3:41 pm #

    Good for you!!!!! I’m so happy to see that you’re feeling some relief after all this. Your parents will come around, right? Just need some time to process. . .

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