Coming out

Those who follow me on Flickr know that I recently came out to my mom. I never followed up on how it went so my coming out story seems like a good subject for my second blog post.

I'll start at the beginning. I've always been into women. Since I was around 5 or 6, I knew there was something different about me. My friends would come over and we would play with Barbies, my Barbie would have sex with Stacy and my friends' Barbies would have sex with Ken. I was always fascinated by women, they way they looked, acted, I always found them more attractive than men. They were prettier. In highshool, the feelings only got stronger. I found myself dating boys but never really feeling fully satisfied in any of my relationships. There was always something missing and I constantly found myself looking for more. I was a terrible monogamist. I remember the feeling of being in a relationship with a guy I really did love and care about, but always keeping my eye out for something, someone better. They were just filling the spot until someone better came along. Then I started making out with girls every time I got drunk at a party (roughly every 3 or 4 weeks during the school year, and almost every week or every other work during the summer). One of my best friends was super rich and had really relaxed parents who didn't care what we did or the fact that we drank underage, as long as we stayed at her house and didn't make too much noise. The fact that she had a pool and and a hot tub didn't hurt either. So I partied it up and slapped a 'bisexual' sticker on my forehead. It was easier and more accepted to wear the bisexual label. It didn't gross the girls out and the guys thought it was 'hot.' 

After highschool my interest in guys slowly faded. Their wet sloppy kisses started grossing me out and the thought of a penis almost made me want to gag. The role I was supposed to play as girlfriend got boring and made me angry. I was supposed to be good, quiet, arm candy; my opinions were always second and my role in the bedroom was to please HIM, it was never the other way around. After a short stint with a girl I'd known in highschool, I knew what I wanted. I wanted curves and boobs and I would never be the All American Housewife, married to a businessman with 2.2 kids and with white picket fence. Despite the fact, I still dated guys. I tried so hard to cling onto my bisexuality, not wanting to let it go, in hopes that when/if I ever did come out to my parents, there would still be that 50/50 chance that I would still marry a man, despite the fact that I liked girls as well. I wanted to give them hope. Maybe it wouldn't be such a disappointment if I still dated guys. 

I finally got tired of pretending to be someone I wasn't. I accepted the fact that I was a full blown queer, I didn't like men and I never would. With that acceptance came relief, I was able to embrace my gayness and love it. Eventually came pride. I found myself more able to love myself and my sexuality, and to be proud that I was part of such a wonderful, welcoming community.

By then, everyone I knew, except for my family (minus my brother) knew I was gay. I hated keeping it a secret. It wasn't fear that they would reject me or kick me out, it was the fear of disappointment that was keeping me from coming out to my parents. The disappointment that I knew would overwhelm them and bombard them with the questions, "Where did we go wrong?" "What did I do to make her this way?"

My mom is one of my best friends. She's one of the people I respect most in the world. I tell her everything. I feel lucky to have the kind of mom who I can tell things that other kids wouldn't dream of telling their parents. I felt like I was lying to her by not telling her the truth about my sexuality. It started eating away at me to the point where I felt I would just explode if another day went by that she didn't know. I finally decided it was time to come out to her. I couldn't keep it from her any longer. I tried telling her several times but all I could manage was to stutter and then quickly change the subject. With help from a good friend I was able to compose a letter to her explaining everything. I left it in her chair and went to bed, terrified, knowing that come the morning she would see me as a different person and things would never be the same. When I woke up the next morning she gave me a hug. She told me she loved me, that I was her daughter and that she would always love me and nothing could ever change that. She said she needed time to think and process everything before she was ready to talk about it. 

It's been almost 3 months now and we still haven't talked about 'It." I've asked her if she'll ever be ready to talk about it. If it's something she'd rather forget and pretend never happened. She says no, she just needs time. I'm starting to lose faith that we'll ever talk about it. That it will just be this unspoken secret between the two of us. It's frustrating but I feel guilty in a way for complaining. I've heard horror stories about gay people being kicked out of their house or disowned by their families. I feel lucky that I have such an understanding mother. But the need to talk about this is making me insane. Should I feel this overwhelming need to talk to her? Or should I just let it go? Just be happy with the fact that now she knows and it's off my shoulders? I don't know. I'm in a weird place with this right now.

Anyway, that's all I've got for tonight.

<3nicole