I bust the windows out your closet

Q: do you regret coming out
A: Oh Hell yes

Q: If you could go back would you do it again?
A: Duh.

I have spent the majority of my lesbian life in fantastically ridiculous relationships. Those near and dear to me are saints for constantly putting up with tales of intolerable foolywang and utter fuckery. At first I thought I was simply the victim of a long streak of bad luck. Then I thought that I was just incurably unattractive and insanity was the consequence that type of offesnsive aesthetic warranted from the universe. Then I realized. . . I dated the wrong women (no I’m not bitter just accurate) because I didn’t want the relationship to ever go anywhere. WHOA. DING. I mean they were awful when I was with them. . .I’m sure they are completely together and are productive and beneficial members of society now.

My brother Kellen says that people treat you the way you tell them to. This is a complicated yet brilliantly simple statement. Absent some serious human rights violation or lack of legally recognized adult status the majority of people are treated according to their wishes. If I was a mistress it was because I told someone it was ok for me to be her mistress. If I was dumpster for emotional and verbal abuse it was because I put a “please shit on me” sign on my forehead. If someone wanted to use me as a fun temporary lesbian distraction for the summer regardless of my feelings it is because I told that person that is all I was worth.

Now why would I tell people to treat me like I didn’t matter? Hmmmmm Oh that’s easy because then I could play he martyr. I could be the victim and claim the moral highroad when they went back to the lover I always knew they’d end up with, or when they abandoned me in boredom, or got tired of shitting in the same spot. I could play the damaged and pathetic wretch, lick my wounds, and go forth into the night to fight another wet rag of buffoonery to invite into my life and my confidences thus starting the cycle all over again. I needed those relationships to fail because if they were destined to fail then there was no future in them. If there was no future in them then I didn’t need to bother my family with the trivial matter of my true sexuality and alas we could have another Hallmark Christmas where everyone was straight and Black Jesus loves our breeder souls.

Until one day. . .I met someone who made me want to tell them about the true me. I met someone who helped me see that I needed to believe in the future of a stable same sex relationship because that’s who I am. That’s what I’m worth. Even though that relationship didn’t work out it doesn’t mean the principle still doesn’t stand. The reasons still hold water. I should have my own family. That’s what I deserve. I’m a family girl. I want the house, the dog, the kids, the wife, and the mini bar in the basement. I want AYSO on Saturday mornings, football on Sunday afternoon, and Friday night game nights. I want special funny names for my parents and I want my brother to be Uncle Matty. That can’t happen if they don’t get to know the real me.

The day I came out to my dad I did it on a whim. It was a regular Monday morning. I had left my beautiful girlfriend at the apartment and went to work at the community health center I’m located at every Monday. My girl and I had been discussing my coming out a lot in the last few days. We were very much in love and she wanted to be with me during that process. Her coming out process was and continues to be difficult and she wanted to help me with mine. It was important (at the time) for her to be a part of my coming out process. We had plans to be together and she was going to be a part of my life so it made sense to stop playing games and come out to my parents. She wanted me to do it while she was around so that she could provide me with support in case it went badly. Well it did not go well. My Father was decent he chose his words carefully and reminded me that I am his daughter and he’d love me forever. He however will need some time to come to terms with this “decision”. My mother on the other hand came down with a severe case of mouth diarrhea and a barrage of absurd and comical things came crashing through what little filter she had and spilled through my phone into my brain like slugewater during a mudslide. In the midst of it all my girl and I fell apart. . . I dealt with the brunt of the fallout from my family on my own. . . .

Alone. . .lonely. . .tired. . .downtrodden. . .which honestly is probably how it should have been anyway. People are tired of depressed and lackluster people. My friends are probably exausted by my stories that have the same characters with different names. Coming out is my battle and making my family understand is my war. My parents were the worst. My extended family has been wholeheartedly supportive. It’s a process and as they say,” Life is marathon not a sprint”. “It’s always darkest before the dawn.” “Fall 5 times get up 6.” “The lord never gives us more than we can handle.” ”All things are difficult before they are easy.” Blah. . . blah. . .blah. . .

No matter how hard it was coming out was the right decision to make. It has given me the strength to demand better for myself. I have never been so bold in advocating for my own wants and needs. I don’t have to hide and accept the bullshit that people offer me claiming it’s potpourri. I don’t have to accept the scraps of affection people give me certain that I’ll be grateful for their leftover love. No more will I tolerate the unfeeling and unrequited devotion I have previously lavished on narcissistic emotional adolescents. I have grown up. I have matured by fire. I have developed deal breakers, and learned to spot the signs of emotional and mental instability that will not be tolerated because I did not spend all that money on therapy to give anyone free sessions. I’m not anyone’s mother so I’m not raising anyone’s grown child. I’m smart, beautiful, clever, funny, supportive, creative, and talented. I’m too much for average and not enough for the insecure. I believe in the power of my own Ego and I constantly feed my own vanity because for too long it has been starved. Coming out to my parents is the heralding of a new dawn. They haven’t completely it accepted it yet but they accept me. . . and the beautiful thing is that I accept me. The world didn’t end the day after I told them. The recession continued. Kim John IL is still wearing that ridiculous hat and we haven’t found Bin Laden.