Expectations

Well, it was bound to happen, right?

Yesterday (that shit day) was truly sad and then fucking bizarre.  It started with me going out to lunch with some friends.  I count them as some of my closest friends from college.  I've known them for about seven years and over the past few years we've supported each other through some awesome times, and through some really hard moments.  On Sunday was another moment; I decided to share with them that I had come out.

It seemed like the natural progression of things.  These friends are women that I talk to a lot, hang out with and spend as much time with as I can.  I would call them best friends.  We all work (or have worked) in social services, and we get one another.  We're often having to deal with hard moments, supporting others and understanding the struggles that others go through.

I got to the restaurant and met my friends, first we celebrated our friend's new full time position.  Then the conversation turned to me.  And I dove right in.  I let them know what I had been going through: I am gay.

You could have heard a fucking pin drop.  Nothing.  They looked so uncomfortable.  They didn't say anything.  It was bizarre.  The table got quiet.

I waited for the questions that I have come to expect.  

When did you know?  
Who did you tell first?  
Are you ok?  
Thanks for sharing, it must be crazy.

Nothing.  Then I got, "How did everyone take it?".  I was not aware that I was delivering a punch to the gut.  I started to get irritated, then I heard my therapist's voice in my head:

They can't read your mind. If you want something, or if you want support, you have to speak up.

So I did.  I laid it all out on the table.  I spoke up. Talked about how hard it was.  Shared how scared, vulnerable, upsetting and difficult this process was for me.

Again, silence.  Nothing.  No check in, no support.  No nothing.  I was floored.  I didn't know what to do, how to handle it.  It was so clear that they didn't want to talk about it.  So clear that they didn't know what to say.  So I changed the subject after an awkward ten minutes.

All of this has me trying to figure out my expectations.  What did I expect?  As I was driving today I tried to think about my expectations prior to sharing with these friends.  After a few hours, I came to the conclusion that even though these friends are my most thoughtful and quiet, they've always had my back.  They've offered tremendous support in other, less difficult situations.  I expected more.

I knew they would be an interesting group.  One of my friends is a devout Christian.  I was worried about her.  I remember her saying something about being against gay marriage six years ago, or so.  I told her, at the time that if she felt compelled to say those types of things, we couldn't be friends.  So we decided not to talk about religion.  And so far, it has worked for us.  But I thought for this moment, my other two friends would have been able to speak up more.

Yesterday she could barely look me in the eye.  It was devastating.

My other two friends didn't know quite what to do about it.  What to say, what to do.

I could almost feel them relax when I changed the subject.  Odd.  That was the opposite of what I felt.

Lunch continued with the getting very excited about making plans for us.  A trip to the city, a Harry Potter marathon, a trip to the beach.  They were eager to hang out again with me included.  When was I available?  Where's did I want to go?  They were giggly and silly for the rest of lunch.  Something felt disingenuous and weird.  It felt as though they were trying to send me a message: we don't care if you're gay, we're still friends.  

But I heard another message: we don't care if you're gay.  And please don't make us talk about it again.

So crushing.  After lunch I said to my devout friend: Are you ok with this information?  "oh yeah!" was the response.  Hugs and giggles.  But still no support, or recognition of the feelings that I shared.

After lunch they were feeling chipper.  They wanted to continue hanging out.  Let's go to Starbucks!  No, thanks, I said.  I needed to go and cry.  

Would they have talked to me more about it if I had stayed?  I don't know.  I wonder.  I was just too hurt, sad.

Because what does this mean for my three friendships with these friends?  Why didn't I see this coming?  Did I know this would happen?  I don't think it would have mattered.  I'm so sad.  And more than that, I'm scared.  This was the one thing I didn't want to have happen.  Changing my relationships that I value.  I don't know how to deal with this.
Thank god I go to therapy tomorrow.

Source

Drama

I am not a drama queen.  I detest even the label "drama queen".  I am an avoider of drama.

I do find the drama of other people's lives very fascinating.  Well, ficticious people actually.  As a teen I soaked up soap operas in the summer ("Passions" anyone??).  I had a serious love for celebrity gossip in my mid twenties.  And when I first moved out on my own I secretly loved being able to watch trashy talk shows.

But in my own life, I avoid drama.  My relationships are drama free for the most part.  I don't openly try and instigate problems, arguments or issues.  I don't even do the whole passive aggressive piece.   Gossip?  Oh heck yes.  I'm not above admitting that I like to dish.  But, my dish sessions will always end with a reasoned response, and a completely adult answer to the most petty of arguments and situations.

My family is far from perfect.  My immediate family seems to have their shit together, but we're still quirky enough to make me very excited when I get 24 hours all alone.

My extended family is filled with a whole slew of interesting/frustrating/infuriating and loveable characters.  They are not perfect, and in fact I prefer to only converse with some of them on a limited basis, but at the end of the day they are who they are.

My life, up to this point, has been devoid of confrontration or irrationality.

Until now.  I have been a big believer in not attracting drama, and not responding dramatically and actively avoiding it.  Life is crazy enough without me adding to it by being over the top, immature or ridiculous.

Fast forward to this summer, and the "big reveal".  All of a sudden my propensity to slam doors, run out of rooms, cry at a pin drop and talk and talk and talk about my experience and process has increased.  An opportunity for a dramatic response?  Count me in. 

The actual experience is odd.  As I'm going through the emotions of feeling out of control (whether it is me running out of a chapel, telling someone "I'm not ok with what is coming out of your mouth" or crying at work) it feels like an out of body experience.  I can see me taking the steps towards drama.  I can hear my rational brain saying "Don't do that...don't be a child.  Get a backbone and stay still.".  I ignore that voice in a remarkable fashion.  I feel my inner self cringing at the awkwardness of my drama.  Yes, nothing more awkward than a 30 year old woman acting like a teenager.

So what is it about this situation and coming out process that inspires me to be a dramatic person?  I can speculate, but I hate the thought that this could be real.

It could be the lack of drama in my personal life.  I've never been one to yell/scream or have generally bad personal experiences.  I once had a friend turn around and full on hate me (another story), but I was so unaffected by it and uninterested in the drama of it I didn't realize it until the relationship had been well and dead for nearly six months.  I was not a dramatic teenager.  I did not have crazy relationship in university.  I was the pillar of strength, the voice of reason.

Maybe all that lack of drama has stunted me, and now I'm catching up for lost time?

I hate that idea.  When I hear about coming out stories I often hear about folks doing crazy shit, getting into insane relationships and making asses out of themselves.  That fate terrifies me, but I fear that I am going to go through that for the next little while, despite my responsible side.

The impending drama is scaring the shit out of me.  But I can see how I would think it's exciting at the same time.  People are always saying how they "hate the drama".  Bullshit.  People love drama, it adds to their life and gives them a distraction.

Maybe that's what I need, a distraction. 

But I will never be a drama queen.

Source

Living a Lie?

I've always been a sucker for identity construction.  I find the whole concept fascinating to think about.  How does someone create their own identity?  We start out with attachement to our primary caregiver (sometimes) and gradually move forward to figure out who we are individually.  It's a process that takes years, and can be heavily influenced by big events, big personalities but also more insipid factors.  A chance encounter, media messaging, a passing comment or a brief, but scary emotional moment.

During my undergrad career I was most fascinated by the idea of how one figures out who they are.  I worked on research projects devoted to the subject, and eventually found myself in a profession that was about supporting others in figuring out their place in the world.  It was really interesting.

Because of all of this I have always associated "knowing who you really are" with having your shit together.  Over the past five years I've turned into a much more self reflective person than I ever thought I would be.  I started to understand who I am, what I believe in and what kind of person I want to be.  I have transformed (I believe) into a very non judgemental person, who accepts people for who they are.  This is incredibly helpful in my profession, and I find that it works well for managing vicarious trauma.

But now I'm at a cross roads.  I'm at this new junction in my life where I'm starting to question my identity in a big way.  I've avoided talking about my sexuality openly for my entire life.  And I'm craving some kind of change because of this acknowledgment.  So...what does this mean for my carefully crafted self reflected image?

On the weekend I was talking to an out friend about how much this had taken me by surprise.  Who was I now?  How did I live for so long ignoring this part?  The brief exchange went like this:

Me: You have to understand, that up until this month, I was one of the most self-reflective people I knew.

Her: Bullshit.

That stopped me.  Was she serious?  Was she right?  Was I really just fooling myself before?  Was I not really self reflective, was I just passing by, skimming the surface?  Devastated, that was the overwhelming feeling.

When people in my life had problems, and let's be real- people who weren't really in my life had problems, I would be their sounding board.  Clients, families, strangers, friends, friends of friends have always disclosed to me.  I used to find it uncomfortable.  I eventually learned that this was a gift- a big one.  I used to think this happened to me because I was an open and approachable person.  Even that I'm starting to question.

The bigger question for me is: have I been living a lie?

I don't know the answer, the possiblity of it being true is scary enough.  It would be an easy thing to ignore or dismiss- but it is there.  Making me think.  Making me scared that I've been able to fool myself for years into thinking I was one thing while denying this big thing.

The shear fact that I'm thinking about this should be my answer.  I'm self reflecting on the question if I'm self reflective.  But I don't know if that fact alone makes me feel ok.  At least, not yet.

Source

Long Lost Friend

As I mentioned before, a friend of mine recently lost a parent.  It was not a surprise, but that's cold comfort after losing someone who you've had a relationship with (no matter the quality).  Today was the final memorial to say goodbye, and I am not one of those people who "doesn't do funerals".  I can understand and appreciate that funerals are important, less for those who are departed, and more for those who have been left behind.

I went with a couple who was also attending- it was nice to hang out with them before and go together.  Lately my own reliability is questionable, it was a relief to go with someone else.

So on we went to the church- which is Catholic.  I feel like that needs to be a separate post all together, my relationship with the Catholic church.  We entered the church gave hugs and sat down...my friends were great, asking me if I would be ok going into the church.  Mostly asking in a joking way.  I responded with the usually "catching on fire" response.  A little laugh at a funeral is helpful.

We went in and grabbed a seat, and I got used to being in the church for a couple of minutes.  I grew up Catholic, so the surroundings were not difficult to get used to.  Soon after sitting, another friend (who I have not come out to...simply because of conflicting schedules) joined us and sat next to us.  She is lovely- kind, open, calm and amazing.  I was overwhelmed.  The she asked me "how are things with you?".

And I came thisclose to coming out to a friend during Mass.  It shook me.  Scared me.  And again, something that I usually would not do.  It freaked me right out, how quickly I almost did something as insane as coming out in a church that, if they knew, would say that I'm not right and against Jesus.

As the Mass started I saw a parent of a longtime friend.  This woman is probably the most miserable person I have ever known.  She's got issues, and I'm not joking.  I first met her daughter in grade nine, and we were close throughout school, and it culminated in my being her maid of honour when she got married when were 20 years old.

Since my friend's marriage nine years ago, she has started to become more aligned with very conservative and traditional Christian values.  Usually, this won't bother me.  But this friend has also become very outspoken and almost mean in her beliefs, even on one occasion two years ago chastising a group of us for straying from our "Christian faith".

So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw this friend singing in the choir at the funeral (it was a surprise because she moved to a "mega church" about five years ago).

Sidenote: My long lost friend was the youngest in the choir by about 50 years.

I almost lost it.  Combined with the priest's homily about "living the life Christ wants you to live" to get into Eternity, being told to be a "slave to my Master (re: Jesus)", listening to what an amazingly kind man my friend's dead parent was, thinking about my own dad and our issues and what it would feel like to lose him, almost coming out in the middle of Mass to my friend- seeing this old friend just about sent me over the edge.

In between all of this, I couldn't help but call myself a huge drama queen.  I couldn't even sit through Communion, I had to leave.

It culminated at the end with my long lost friend inviting me over to her new home in the next couple of weeks to see her kids and catch up.

Where she will certainly ask me "how are things with you?".

Fuck me.

Source

Roller Coaster

The past four weeks have been a roller coaster.  Scratch that.  The past three weeks has been a roller coaster.

At first, when I started this journey of simply telling everyone that their assumptions that I was straight were misguided, I didn't really start to feel emotional.  I was oddly clinical about the entire thing.  I was not nervous at the beginning, I thought the butterflies I felt were more anticipation than nerves.

And then about 12 hours after I told the most important person (my mom) I started my slow descent into madness.  I started feeling euphoric and terrified, simultaneously.  I can only guess that this is what having a child feels like, except people are much more comfortable talking about your new little person than talking about your new identity as a gay person.

All of a sudden I started experiencing the epicness of my mood swings, which are still in full pendulum swing as we speak.  At one moment I feel happy and excited and proud, the next I am grieving for my closeted self.  I hate this feeling.  And the worst part?  It's totally unpredictable.

Backtrack:  I am the most predictable person you will ever meet.  I make plans, I follow said plans and think methodically about what I want to do.  With this, I can predict my emotional behaviour.  Even when I'm sad, unhappy, down, whatever, I can always understand my feelings.  I can understand why I'm feeling the way I am.  I take such comfort in being able to understand my feelings.

So, you can imagine that with my rapid and somewhat confusing moods I am freaking right out.  Not only do I have to deal with the very big emotions of being scared/upset/excited/happy, but I find myself also dealing with the fear of simply understanding these emotions.

Source

Being in the field that I am in (social work), I pride myself on my ability to self-reflect.  But it seems that in this situation it doesn't matter what I know in my head- my heart is about five steps ahead of me.  Eventually I can deconstruct what is going on (the insights I have about three weeks ago are helpful, but would have been more helpful 20 days ago).  But it's taking me far too long for my liking.

I'm hopeful that by working through these next weeks (months? oh god) I can return to that person I was before who didn't get super sad when thinking about the relatives that I cannot tell or super excited when I watch "The Real L Word" without fear that someone will overhear and figure me out.

But, we'll see how this goes.  Until then, I will enjoy the rollercoaster ride with its dips of fear and flows of euphoria.

Source

Making the Leap

The same day that I came out to my mom, Anderson Cooper completely stole my thunder.

He also made the move, whether by his own motivation, or because of the prodding of others.

What I find interesting about when those who are part of the GLTB community come out to everyone (sidenote: this whole assuming people are straight without them telling you is another issue I'm currently grappling with) is the ensuing conversations that happen.

All of a sudden we have people giving their opinion about those who are "closet-ed", and namely those who are famous and not sharing their gayness. On one side we have folks saying that folks like Anderson, Ellen, NPH and others have a responsibility to come out, as famous/powerful members of media. They're excited when folks come out and they continue success.

On the other side we have folks questioning the coming out of those in visible positions in media. Their motives are suspect, and all of a sudden accusations (or thinly veiled passive aggressive questions) start to roll out.

What I find interesting is not asking why did Anderson wait so long to tell everyone, but instead I'm asking myself: Why did it take him so long to feel safe to share?

It's hard not to compare to my own experience- coming out at 30 years old, one of my fears was that others were going to think that I was tortured over the last twenty years. That wasn't the case.

But up until the last few months, I was challenged when I it started to be something that I was hiding. It was scary to feel as though I couldn't "live with it" and keep it to myself. Prior to this I felt (or tricked myself? I don't know) like I could keep this part of my identity just for me- no concerns, no bad feelings. Then all of a sudden- BOOM - it started to feel less comfortable. It started to feel oppressive, uncomfortable and as though I was hiding something. I hadn't felt that before.

So did I come out because I felt pressure? Kind of. Am I resentful of the heternormativity that was part of my decision to come out? Um, hell yes.

I don't know. This whole idea that people should come out if they are in powerful position is something that I do understand. I get. I am aware of the power that silence brings. But why are we putting so much pressure on closeted famous/smart/powerful people? Why are we not looking to our hetero counterparts to take some responsibility for enforcing gendered stereotypes and assumptions? How about we stop creating the environment that continues to perpetuate a culture of needing to have people confirm that the assumptions of heterosexuality are mistaken?

Source

Fearlessly Falling

Well, I did it. Six weeks after my 30th birthday, I came out.

It was completely surprising, spontaneous and surreal. In other words, nothing like me.

I'm working through this whole "coming out" process and I'm struggling to find other voices out there that I can relate to. The books are crap (that I'm finding), and a lot of the "coming out" material that I'm discovering does not speak to me.

What I've found is that coming out in adulthood is not something that is uncommon, but it doesn't seem to be something that we're talking about...or at least not easy enough for me to find.

So that's what this little blog is supposed to help me do...come out in my own authentic way. I'm not sure how this is all going to work. But I thought in the spirit that perhaps there are others out there (right? RIGHT?) I can do something important.

So, yes it's gonna get gay up in here. But hopefully fun, funny, interesting and infuriating.

Source