Coming Out: It's a Journey, Not a Decision

On National Coming Out Day, I find myself thinking about all the ways I came out over the years and all the ways I will come out for the rest of my life as I meet new people. Coming out never just starts and stops. It took me years to come out to the first person I ever told and I know I have the rest of my life ahead of me with various forms of coming out to do. I can picture having to come out to new friends, coworkers, players, our children, etc. While I may not be explicitly telling new people in my life that I am gay, the mere mention of my wife for the first time to someone who does not know me is, in a way, coming out. 

Many of my coming out "strategies" were subtle, but some were overt. Some of these approaches were full of shame and some were full of pride. Sometimes people found out unintentionally, while others found out only after I agonized over how to tell them for months. Some of the ways I told people turned into joyous occasions and some were terribly painful. The first person I ever told was my best guy friend from high school. I was sitting at my desk in the fall of my freshman year of college (2003) and sent him an AIM instant message telling him I was gay and then abruptly signed off. I didn’t want to read his reaction, which, as I should have expected, was a perfect mix of "who cares" and "I support and love you." I remember agonizing over telling my college field hockey team. I didn’t want them to look at me differently or act differently towards me. I started by telling a few close friends on the team and eventually everyone on the team knew. They were then and still are the best. 

I remember telling people through notes and letters to avoid seeing their reaction. I remember holding a girl’s hand at a party when I wasn’t really out to many people yet in hopes that everyone would just draw their own conclusions and move on. I remember one of the first people I told face to face was my sister. I’m always grateful to her for being that person for me. I told my mom in the summer of 2004 right before appendix surgery (while I was under the influence of Demerol, a pain killer that the nurse nicknamed “truth serum"). Whether or not that truth serum thing was true, it seemed to effect my subconscious, because when I woke up from surgery, I learned that I had told my mom I was gay. Seeing as I was bedridden in that moment, I confirmed to my mom that indeed I was gay and I sat there as she held back tears. She was upset. She was scared that I would have a difficult life. She didn't want people to be mean to me. She didn't want me to miss out on all of the wonderful things like marriage and kids. Those were her fears and that was her sadness for me at the time. I was scared to tell my dad and asked my mom not to tell him yet. She agreed, but, if you know my mom, you know she had probably already told him. When I found out he knew, I stood in the kitchen looking down the hallway to the den and said, "So, you know?" I was greeted with a warm and sincere smile and an, "I've known for years." 

I had no idea how to tell my quietly homophobic brother who was visiting from out of town. I decided to bring him to my workplace, MassEquality, a non-profit that was fighting for marriage equality at the time (2005). He didn’t put two and two together as I had hoped and had instead had some choice words for my chosen place of employment. On the drive home, I was crushed and mad. While this experience was painful, I also knew it was a terrible attempt on my part at telling him my truth. He left to go back home soon after and we never spoke about it. Eventually, after we gave each other the space and time we both needed, we talked about it, a lot. Years later, he proudly stood right by my side on my wedding day and we are closer than ever. 

I also have a lot of misplaced and disjointed memories that I think about. I can't always remember where it was or when it was, but I vividly remember the words and facial expressions of people's immediate reactions including things like, “Obviously!” with a big smile, “Please don’t cut your hair!”, “Are you going to march in all those parades now?”, "When did you know?", and my favorite, awkward silence. What I didn't expect upon telling people was that they may feel pain. Some people were hurt that I had waited so long to tell them or took real offense that I was afraid to tell them in person. Some people felt betrayed and like they didn't even know me at all. I had a hard time reckoning all of those feelings honestly. I was so wrapped up in my own pain, shame and now growing excitement and liberation that I couldn't adequately access what their pain was all about. 

What many people don't explicitly see with a coming out story are often the years, months and days of turmoil leading up to those decisions. I had felt something about me was different for years. If I had really let myself explore that feeling, I probably would have started processing all of my feelings better, but I was afraid. I really, really did not want to be different. I truly believe that compartmentalizing those feelings back then took a toll on me. I had anger issues, struggles with depression and loneliness, and other feelings that I now see clearly as mental health issues during high school and early on in college. I really, really struggled. But, as they say, it got better, a lot better.

In November of 2006, I met the love of my life. She challenges me, respects me, listens to me, loves me unconditionally and makes me a better person every day. I am so grateful and thankful for this life and this love. I truly could not ask for anything more. She helps me continue to navigate this life when it starts to feel a bit tricky. She reminds me who I am when I'm not feeling like myself. She helps me access my feelings, explore them and embrace them. I think what we have both learned on our respective journeys is that the only way to be truly accepted is to first accept yourself, your unapologetic, authentic self. The love you have for yourself will open you up to an even greater love; it's out there, be open to it and be ready for it. Love is love.