Oscar Wilde once wisely stated, “be yourself. Everyone else is taken.” This sentiment rings true, as we only have one chance at life. It took me 36 years to discover who I truly wanted to be, and when I finally realized it, I was filled with fear. Terrified and completely alone.
Allow me to explain.
I wear many hats: I’m a wife, a woman, a mother, a runner, and a writer. My days are dedicated to advocating for mental health while my evenings revolve around caring for my two amazing children—my greatest joys. Despite these blessings, I’ve long felt an emptiness within me. It wasn’t until this past summer, on an uncharacteristically warm day, that I finally admitted to my husband, “I think… I think I’m gay.”
His reaction was one of shock. Sitting on the porch that evening, we both envisioned our future, filled with sorrow and anger. He felt as though our entire relationship was built on falsehoods. He was hurt, and understandably so. The tension was palpable, and I couldn’t help but feel gutted. Even in my quest for honesty and authenticity, I felt an overwhelming sense of solitude.
Loneliness is a universal experience; it touches everyone at some point in their lives. However, for many in the LGBTQ community, the feelings of isolation are heightened. This is often due to the necessity of hiding one’s true self from friends and family before coming out. I took my first steps out of the closet in July, but I found no sense of relief—only more confusion. Sometimes, I wish I could retreat back into my previous life.
Living a lie, in some ways, was easier. It spared my husband from discomfort and potential heartbreak. There would be no anger or tears, and life would remain uninterrupted. Instead, I now face the daunting task of sharing my truth repeatedly. I worry about my seven-year-old daughter and my 21-month-old son and how my identity might affect them, which is a heavy burden to carry.
The fear of losing my extended family also looms large. Having lost my father in childhood and my mother in 2020, my husband’s family is all I have left. The thought of revealing my truth terrifies me—what if it drives them away? My husband jokes about a celebratory parade for my coming out, but I fear for the reality. I’ve seen friends ostracized for their sexuality, losing relationships and facing hatred for simply being themselves.
I’ve discussed the loneliness that often accompanies coming out with friends, some of whom are grateful for their honesty yet acknowledge the challenges that come with it. Many communities lack protections for LGBTQ individuals, adding to the anxiety.
It’s not the idea of a parade I desire; it’s the feeling of connection that eludes me. Right now, I feel like I’m stranded on a frozen lake—cold, isolated, and waiting for the inevitable plunge into the icy depths. Yet, here I am, standing—still and very much alone. But standing is an act of courage, and through it all, I realize that it is everything.
If you want to explore more about the journey of self-discovery and the experiences surrounding it, check out this blog post that delves into similar themes. For those considering home insemination, Make a Mom provides valuable resources. Additionally, NICHD offers excellent information regarding pregnancy and home insemination.
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Summary:
Coming out can be a deeply isolating experience, filled with fear and uncertainty. For many in the LGBTQ community, the struggle to reveal their true selves brings about feelings of loneliness, especially when faced with the potential loss of family and relationships. This journey is not just about honesty but also navigating the complexities of identity, love, and acceptance in an often unwelcoming world.