This past Friday (March 12th) was a huge day for me. It was my one-year "coming out" anniversary.
I never thought this day would come. When I was a teenager, there was a time when I didn't think I would live to see myself graduate, much less enter my twenties and see my one-year "coming out" anniversary. But I've pulled through. I've survived.
Being open about my orientation has had many benefits, many of which are not quantifiable. As the anniversary was approaching, I tried to reflect on what it really meant to me. How it changed my life. And, to my surprise, I couldn't really think of anything specific except that I don't have to hide anymore. I don't have to be embarrassed if there is something about me that is a little more effeminate than your average white, heterosexual male. Other than that, I really can't think of anything. That doesn't mean that it wasn't worth it, or that it wasn't a big deal - it was a big deal. It is a big deal for anyone who's ever done it.
Like I said, many of the benefits are not quantifiable; they are indescribable. It's more than a pure list on a piece of paper. It's more than how many benefits I can count on my hands. It's more than I even know it is. It's a feeling deep inside of me that gives me confidence. In all reality, it is a state of being. It is how I carry myself.
For example, after not having attended LDS Church meetings in over a year (except for special occasions, like Mother's Day) I attended our ward's Christmas party with my family this past December. My Bishop was there (have I told you about my Bishop? I'll have to someday). Let it be said for now that our past was full of anger and resentment, but that we agreed to disagree. I tried my best to forgive him (and I feel that I have) but that doesn't mean I have to talk to him, or reach out to him, or be his best friend or neighbor. However, I encountered him at the party and chatted with him very briefly. In the past, before I was "out", I had this vision of my Bishop as this all-mighty, wise being who knew exactly how to help and comfort me. I thought that he was infallible. I saw him as having authority because I gave him that authority; it was my perception that he had control over not only my salvation, but my happiness as well. I put myself in a situation where I was dependent on him and ended up getting disappointed. I saw myself as less than him: after all, I was a homosexual and he was a Bishop - a Bishop! Needless to say, my perception of our relationship had him up on this pedestal looking down on me - because I put him there. And that was wrong of me.
Anyway, during our brief chat at the ward Christmas party I felt, for the first time in my life, like his equal. I felt like I was just as important to Heavenly Father as he was. I felt like he didn't have authority over me any more - because I chose not to give it to him. I felt like I was in the right and could defend myself against, yes, even a Bishop. I felt like we were on a level playing field; that his rules didn't apply to me because I was playing a different game than he was.
And to feel that feeling of confidence and contentment made me feel happy.
That's not to say that I look down on my Bishop. I just respected him for who he was while asserting my right to live my life the way I wanted to. And I realized that that's okay. We don't have to agree. That's part of life. It is not my job to please everybody.
And it was choosing to "come out" a year ago that gave me the confidence to feel that way during that brief exchange with my Bishop. It was cordial, nothing to deep, but I felt happy and content. I couldn't have done that if I still felt dependent on him for my happiness; if his approval meant more to me than actually living my life. "Coming out" helped me to assert my independence, to increase the amount of love I show myself, and to increase my self-respect.
And, in essence, those are the two words I would use to describe "coming out": self-respect. Letting go of all the baggage and accepting yourself wholeheartedly without pre-conditions, unapologetically and even aggressively.
If you are still in the closet, I would urge you to "come out." However, it needs to be when you are ready. It needs to be because you want to, and not because someone else wants you to or because you want to "rebel" against someone who is against it. Prayerfully consider it. Treat it with care; you teach people how to treat you by how you treat yourself. If you approach it with respect and sensitivity, so will others. If you "come out" but play a victim, others will treat you as a victim. Please don't do that. "Coming out" means that you are not ashamed of who you are; you are not a victim! You deserve to be happy and victims aren't happy people. Be happy! Show others that you love and respect yourself.
Now, I have recently discovered some new instrumental music that I want to share with you. This is my way of celebrating. It helps me to feel inspired, powerful, and successful. I know that it will inspire you as well.
I want to express specifically how I feel about this first song. It is called "The Gravel Road" from The Village. If you haven't seen the movie, I don't want to ruin it for you, so stop reading. Now, the plot of the film is that there is this secluded village in modern America whose inhabitants live as if it were still the 1700's. The elders of this Amish-like group instill a fear in the rest of the village by telling them horrific stories of monsters that lie in the woods that encircle the village. Often, the villagers are attacked by these monsters, and their fear keeps them isolated. A blind girl in the village decides to go out to find some help for those who were attacked by the monsters and along the way she comes across some challenges, risking her life when the "monster" attacks her (The "monsters" are actually costumes that the elders dress up in to keep the fear instilled in village people). But she picks up her walking stick, brushes herself off, and keeps going. She eventually comes to this stone wall with a door recessed into it. She opens the door and steps out onto a 20th century highway. In essence, her eyes have been "opened" and she is no longer blind (literally and figuratively) to the lies and deceit that kept her secluded from the rest of the world due to fear.
I feel like that is what "coming out" is like. You feel blind, lost along the way. You are fearful of what lurks in the woods, what pains you might have to confront to venture into their shadowy arms. You have these challenges that sometimes you can't see, but you can feel them, you can sense them. And you give these challenges a run for their money! You feel like you are all alone, but you have prayer to help you, much like a walking stick. When you come to that stone wall, it's stature so intimidating, you open that closet door and jump out into the real world. You are no longer blind. That doesn't mean you see everything, but that you welcome the opportunities that come your way. You now realize that the fear you and others held about you discovering what was beyond that door were without merit. It would be understandably hard to adjust from an 18th-century lifestyle to a 20th-century one, much like adjusting from a straight, closeted life to an "out", open life is. But it's a welcome opportunity. The destination at the end of The Gravel Road is yours.
This is what the journey down the gravel road feels like:
This is what I feel when I see that closet door, approaching it with every footstep. I can't believe the moment is here, and I almost want to stay in the moment forever. Everything is happening in slow motion, then the gravity of the situation hits me (from Michael Clayton):
This is what it feels like when I open that closet door: still scared, overwhelmed, so much to take in, but hopeful. Much like Tom Hanks' character at the end of the movie Cast Away, I have a blank slate and I can start all over again:
This is how it feels to finally meet My Love beyond that stone wall (From The Cider House Rules):
...And this song, from The Fountain, describes every part of the journey:
Remember Remember
8 years ago
