Coming Out at Age 30

I wrote this essay in December of 2020. Since then, I have edited one or two words to make it clearer, but otherwise have changed nothing. These were my thoughts then. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: All names have been changed. Everyone involved has their own side of this story that is completely valid.

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I want to write about coming out as gay at age 30. One thing that I’ve learned this year is that people come out at all ages. I had this idea in my head that the majority of people who aren’t straight come out at a young-ish age. I had the idea that, “you just know” and you decide at one point or another to tell people close to you, and then you start living your truth out loud.

It turns out, that’s not always true. That’s a narrative that I have seen many times in movies and shows. And now that I’ve gone through it myself, I realize that there are MANY narratives and different ways this unfolds. For me, it wasn’t simple. I did not “just know.” In fact, I still don’t know. I just know I’m happy and I’m with my person.

And she happens to be a woman, and I am one too.

I also realize that I have never asked my gay friends what their coming out was like. I wish that I would have. And I will soon – because it’s important. It’s such a huge step in someone’s life. And now I understand why from the inside out.

If you are like me, maybe you think that asking someone about their coming out will be hurtful or intrusive. That’s what I thought. But it’s not. For me, it feels like an honor when someone asks. I love talking about getting to know myself more deeply. It’s my Life’s Work.

So today, I’m going to tell you my Coming Out Story.

In March of 2020, the first week of the stay-at-home-order, I had a Zoom call with a new friend, Kayla. A mutual friend put us in touch because Kayla was looking for more sober, spiritual friends. Mary, our friend, knew me as both. Deeply both.  * Cue laughter for people who know me *

So…we got on Zoom and introduced ourselves and began talking. Kayla was quickly fascinated with me (which I now understand, but didn’t at the time). She was fascinated by the way I look – small, blonde, and shiny (for lack of a better word) – and the way I speak – grounded, honest, and “with a deep anchor,” she would say. She hadn’t seen someone who looks like me talk like this. She hadn’t seen someone pretty who looks “perfect” speak in such a raw, real way. And have actual spiritual depth and understanding. That’s how she’d explain it.

For me, without knowing any of this, I could feel her attention and fascination. And it felt great. Confusing, but great. Let’s be honest – who doesn’t love attention? And for someone to see you and love you instantly? It was awesome.

At the same time, I also had my guard up a bit. I am a therapist, and I’m used to clients idealizing me – and then wanting to get really close. So a small red flag went up inside of me: Why does this woman like me so much so quickly? Who is she? Is she like this with everyone?

But I was interested. In friendship with her. It felt great to talk about spirituality and have someone really Get It. It felt great to learn about astrology, something I wanted to get more into. And it felt exciting to share my Clairvoyant tools with her. She loved every bit of it. We also exchanged sobriety stories and had so much in common.

We got off the call, making plans to talk again in two weeks. I was very busy with work, and this seemed realistic. We went on like that for a few months, talking every other week for 1-2 hours, then not talking for weeks at a time. I felt nothing other than happiness at having a new spiritual friend.

We canceled calls on each other a few times, rescheduling when we could. There was no spark that I was aware of, and she would say the same. We were both just DOWN for friendship.

At the time, I was in a relationship with a man, Damien, and we were quarantined together at my condo in Chicago. It was us two and my dog, Terry. We were doing lots of walks, cooking, and checking the news. We had decided two weeks before quarantine that we were going to get married in 2021. We had told both of our families. And he was secretly planning a proposal for the summer. We were happy.

He and I had all of the same values: we both loved to hike and be in nature, to exercise, and to cook. We valued family, togetherness, and loyalty. We were both honest and grounded. We had fun together.

At the same time, something was missing for me. It was a quiet itch that I could never quite scratch. I kept thinking it would go away. And it was small enough to ignore. We had great sex, great families and friends, and we liked to do all of the same activities. This was what love is, right? Connecting over doing the same things? That’s it, right?

I’ll grow into it. And truly, I was. I loved him more every day. I respected him deeply and valued him. I could see all of his good qualities and I was fine with the ones that I didn’t like as much. I listened to him and he listened to me. He may not quite get my points of view all of the time, but who does? That’s unrealistic to want. He is a good man.

Now, I can say that what was missing was deep emotional intimacy. At the time, I had no words for it. We had emotional intimacy, but it was more shallow than my heart wanted.

Here’s the thing: I felt this way in almost every single relationship I had had in my life. It would get to about the two-year mark and I would realize that I did not feel as deeply connected to this person as I wanted. And I would begin trying to work on it, but I would feel like I was hitting a wall. In my mind, I would blame it on the other person’s capacity, but I’m not sure if that’s true. It may have been their capacity, or it may have been the way our relationship progressed. Or a combination of both.

I have a pattern of engaging in physical intimacy pretty quickly with men. And then I try to develop emotional intimacy with them after, over time. And it never quite worked. With a few of them, I did feel a deeper emotional intimacy, but it still didn’t hit the level I wanted. And because I didn’t have the words for that level, I began to think it didn’t exist. I was wanting something that wasn’t Real, and I needed to give that up. Damien was a great man, and we loved being together, and this was Good Enough. That deep emotional connection is a fairytale fantasy, and not real. Done. I get it.

This itch was there though, and I just kept thinking it would go away.

A little Side Note on Intimacy:

I always thought that the reason people tell you not to have sex with someone too soon is for decorum’s sake. For appearances. Because it’s the “right moral thing to do.” But that’s not true. The reason is because having sex with someone really fast is false intimacy. It’s just putting two bodies together. It’s not knowing another person’s heart and mind and soul and then connecting physically from a place of deep connection. If we put our bodies together and make each other feel good, then we’ve done the most intimate physical thing that we can do. Without knowing each other. So we have this false sense of intimacy. We feel deeply connected because we’ve merged physically now, but we haven’t merged on the spiritual or emotional level. The connection is physical and outward, but not inward.

And that to me, as a human individual, feels like splitting myself. I feel physically intimate with this person, but not emotionally just yet. Or somewhat emotionally. Shouldn’t we be closer emotionally? It’s unsettling.

The two (physical intimacy and emotional intimacy) need to progress on parallel paths, building slowly together, side by side. I think this is how we develop true, deep, integrated intimacy.

BACK TO THE STORY THOUGH.

So, here I am, almost two years in with Damien, and we are getting engaged, and the deep emotional intimacy is not there. And yet, I’m waiting for it. I’m witnessing him and us and seeing what I need to do to create it. It’s like a Group Project, and I’m observing it all to see what my part is.

We are outwardly having a lot of fun together and with our families, and inwardly that is making me happy. But I don’t feel truly witnessed by him, or held in all of who I am. I don’t feel fully seen. And I don’t have the space with him to talk about my faith and my spiritual path, which are the most important parts of my life.

I tell myself that I can get that from my friends, that I don’t need to get everything from my partner (which I still think is true), and I so I go do that. I get that from Kora, and Lexi, and Shawn, and Jim, and now Kayla.

Damien and I get engaged over the Fourth of July. Right before it, something big happens in my family and I call Kayla to talk. It’s the first time we’ve communicated outside of our Zoom calls. She picks up, and she holds space for me.

I have a therapist who I’m working with on this stuff, so I mostly just relay to her that I’m shocked at how well I’m handling it. I can see myself staying calm, holding space for this family member, and not overreacting. I can see myself as a Full Adult here and I am shocked. She is shocked for me too. She mirrors back to me my strength. She makes sure I see it. I weep. And we laugh together.

Time keeps going. I find my wedding dress, and I send her a picture of me in it. “ANGEL!!!” She writes back, and my heart lights up. It’s the first time I’m aware of feeling special to her, and also like she’s special to me. Our friendship is lovely. She tells me we’re best friends, and that she’s never had a best friend before! And she loves it.

It is news to me that we’re best friends. I’m surprised. And I say internally, “Oh, okay.” And then I feel good. And a little confused. And good.

Time keeps going. She and I begin texting every day. We talk on and on about spiritual concepts, our practices, and our experience. We share stories of how we got sober, of the chaos that we created before sobriety, and of our families and exes and lives. For every fucked up story she has, I have one that is fucked up in the same unique way. We gasp and we laugh. She voice messages mostly, and I begin listening to them away from Damien because he’s clearly getting annoyed. We are very close. He starts to feel weird. I assure him that we’re good friends, and that it’s really nice to talk to someone about spirituality so often. He is happy for me, and confused. Understandably.

The first week in August arrives. I’m visiting Damien in Champaign. He moved back there June 1st, right after the Quarantine in IL was lifted. He and I have been seeing each other every weekend, and I’ve even gone there to work at his apartment for a week here and there. He just moved into a new place, a house this time with a yard. We are talking about me moving in with him, since I can now work from anywhere.

I visit him for the weekend, and he’s working, so I talk with Kayla via text, calls, and voice messages on and off. Pretty much non stop. I still cook with Damien, we have sex, and we are close. We watch movies, take the dog on walks, and enjoy our time. We decide I’m moving there next Saturday, 8/8. It feels fast, but right. I love the little house he has, and I’m ready for us to be a family. We’re engaged, we have a wedding date set, and we love each other. This is the next step. I’m ready. “I’ll pack all week,” I tell him, “And move Saturday.” He’s thrilled, as am I.

I tell Kayla on the phone and she’s thrilled for me. She asks how the energy feels at the house and I tell her it feels so good! It feels right. I can’t wait to be out of the city. She’s excited for me. We talk happily about our lives. She tells me about the guy she’s seeing and how it’s going and I encourage her to lean in to her femininity (her goal for herself). We move on to Buddhism talk, trauma healing, and other topics. We tell each other more stories.

The next day, I’m driving back to Chicago and texting her again, and I begin to realize: I really care about this person. She’d said, “I love you!” on the phone the day before like we’ve been saying for a while, like friends before hanging up, and I felt that. I feel that. But it’s not just that. It’s not just a friendly love.

It dawns on me how excited I am to talk to her each day. How my heart lights up when I see her name on my phone. I start to get scared as I realize that I love her. Like really, deeply love her. 

I start to get really scared at this point. The times I’ve cheated on ex boyfriends begin running through my head, as do the vows I made to myself to never lie to a partner again and to never cheat. I end up texting her to say, “I think I’m like…IN love with you. Is that weird? Haha”

She writes back saying, “No, it’s not. I feel the same way.”

And we start talking about it. We talk the entire drive, and the rest of the day, as I begin packing. We decide to be Just Friends because that’s the right thing to do, I’m getting married, and this must happen all of the time, right? Random romantic feelings coming about when you connect with someone this deeply. Yes, it is. It’s normal. It’s fine. We will just Make a Choice to not act on it. That’s the right thing to do. This will pass.

The next day, she is shattered. I am too, but I’m hiding it, even from myself. I’ve committed to Just Friends because I’m committed to Damien and that feels correct. Loving Kayla is true, and real, but I’m in charge of myself and I choose Damien. I choose this life I’ve been building with him these last two years.

Kayla tells me she’s deeply sad. She is with it all day. I am outwardly okay, packing and seeing clients and Doing What Needs to Be Done. Relieved that she and I can just be friends, and I don’t have to hurt anyone else.

Time keeps going. The next day we consider polyamory, discussing it on the phone. Loving each other is just Truth and there is no getting around it. How real it feels scares me deeply, but again it is just Truth. It is like remembering something essential about myself that I’d forgotten. Oh, right, I’m a writer. I’m an artist. I’m in love with Kayla. Duh.

She feels the same way. That whole week, I listen to Taylor Swift’s new album and float around the condo between boxes. I’m in Love. It’s fabulous. We are talking non stop, laughing all of the time, and we have no solution. No idea what will happen. We just are. We’ve never met in person, did I say that yet? And we have now agreed to Not Decide on Anything. That’s our decision: just flow, don’t land on anything. We don’t have an answer yet, and that’s okay. We keep telling ourselves this. It’s okay to not have an Answer. It will come.

I tell her I have to tell Damien ASAP. She mildly fights me on it, but agrees. We will see if he is open to polyamory. I have lots of friends who do this. They seem happy. I make a mental note to talk with them about it. I have tools. This will be fine.

I move in with Damien, it’s a long two days, and at the end of the second day, settled in our new little house, I tell him. I have feelings for this woman. I’m not sure how this happened. And I am wondering if we can have an open relationship so that I can explore being with a woman.

He is understandably upset. He is confused. We are very sad together. He didn’t picture this. He wants monogamy. I say, Okay. The conversation is much longer, but this is the gist. Our hearts both break. I insist on telling him as much as I know at that point: I deeply care about this person, and I have always wanted to be with a woman sexually (which he knows and has known since the start of our relationship), and I want to try this.

He says no, then yes, and then maybe. I take it all to mean that he is confused, but open to it. The first thing he actually said was Yes. Yes to me hooking up with Kayla. I spend the next day explaining that is not what it would be. I deeply care for her. I know it would not just be a sexual thing. He then says No.

This is the part where I won’t go into in more detail. It is too painful to relive. I had a choice at one point: to keep working on building emotional intimacy with Damien (we had begun seeing a therapist together), or to abandon that effort and be with Kayla. Being with Kayla felt like choosing My Self. It felt like honoring my deepest and truest self.

So that’s what I did. I drove to Nashville to meet her in person, finally, at the very end of September. For me, the entire weekend was bliss. It felt like coming home after a long war. I had been fighting with myself and for myself for so long, and next to her I could just BE.

She and I were nervous and giggly and couldn’t eat. We were scared and excited and weird together. I stumbled on my words. Looking at her felt like looking directly into the sun. I kept having to look away. She kept brushing her teeth.

I drove home and told Damien immediately. It was over, and I needed to go do this. To be gay, or bisexual, or whatever word I wanted to use. I didn’t know yet, and I still don’t. It changes every day. A word doesn’t feel like it encompasses the Truth. The Truth is that she’s my best friend and I want to spend time with her. That’s it. She’s my person. It’s simple.

I proceeded to burn my life down, starting with canceling the wedding and breaking approximately 10 more hearts. Damien’s family and my family. It tore me to shreds. I couldn’t eat for a full week. He and I talked and talked and talked. He was devastated. I was sick over hurting him like this. And sick over not knowing that I needed to be with a woman. Or that I’m not straight. Or that this could happen. I did not know that this level of connection existed. And it does, and I have it, and it feels like coming home.

And he understood in one moment and then not in the next. Over and over again. Hurt, angry, furious, silent, and then sleeping. I let him be in all of it, and I held him while he cried. And he held me while I did. And we took the dog on walks. And we became friends. And that was the truest intimacy we had ever had.

We danced in the kitchen one night, laughing and twirling each other. We felt like real friends, finally. I felt fully seen. He understood this was something I had to do to honor Emily. And he supported that, he said. He was just also deeply hurt. I felt so lucky to have someone who saw me the way he did. And who supported my Truth the way he did. And then it would flip, and it was 7am and he was screaming Fuck You and I was retreating deep inside myself and weeping. Again.

Over and over and over again. I leaned on Katie and others and just took it one day at a time. My family shamed me for being “impulsive” and “flaky” and “ruining people’s lives.” My dad called this an “economic disaster.” And they tried to support me too. My dad told me how some of his friends told him how they should’ve canceled their weddings but didn’t, and now they are divorced. And that hurt like hell. They told him to support me no matter what. And he took that to heart and passed those stories on to me. That felt like a moment of acceptance.

My one sister was neutral and wanted to hear about Kayla and that made me feel calm and accepted. Both sisters were happy for me initially actually on the phone. And then things turned, and they were digging up dirt on Kayla and giving it to my dad and I was hurt and confused and angry. It was a roller coaster.

I finally cut them off for a few weeks to focus on me and Damien. To honor what we had in the last month we would ever live together.

At the same time, internally I was waking up. I’m gay! I’m SO gay! I would say it to myself out loud over and over again, I would sing it, and when I was home alone I would scream it. I’M GAY! OF COURSE I’M GAY. DUH. I would laugh.

I would masturbate and think about Kayla. I would let myself really truly fantasize about her. I was no longer in a box with a white picket fence around it. I was Free.

It was a messy process. I still don’t have any big Labels or Concepts for my own sexuality. I just feel Free. I feel like I can be masculine in some moments and feminine in others. I can be receptive and sensual and driven and assertive and all of it is Correct. I can appreciate men’s bodies and women’s bodies and every gender in between. I can fantasize about anyone and anything I want now. I am no longer keeping myself in a little box.  

My spirit is too big for that.