slipjay

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to write. But, I assumed that writing was limited to fantasy books and newspapers and thought I would never get paid well enough to maintain a steady career. I went to high school and wanted to go into medicine – for the money. But, I wasn’t ever really interested in it. So, I stuck with journalism, if merely out of comfort, and coasted through 4 years of college. I hated it. I hated journalism and never wanted to do anything involving it. I didn’t like the work ethic and the image and the hours. But, I did like computers and programming. By the time I realized this though, I was already halfway through college and didn’t feel comfortable changing to such a high science/math major. So there I was, with a journalism degree and no desire to work for the media. I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I wasn’t Shakespeare…I wasn’t J.K. Rowling…I wasn’t even Penny Jordan. I didn’t think it was realistic to become a fiction writer. So what, then? Marketing was the closest I could come up with. After months of job searching, a friend threw me a bone and I was given a contractual writing job for a marketing company. I loved it. But it was temporary and only lasted about 5 months. Again, I stumbled around for a few months before landing another temporary job. This time it didn’t have anything to do with writing: test scoring. After a few more months, the job ended and I was unemployed yet again. The one-year anniversary of my college graduation had come and gone and I was deeply depressed. Then I heard about a tech company that was hiring. They were looking for technical writers. Wow! A way to combine my two interests: writing and computers. How awesome? I applied and spent a whole month working through their interviewing process. After tons of studying and preparation, I was told to wait two weeks for a response. Not one week later, they called me up and said that they had sent me an offer letter!! Since then, I’ve received the letter and returned it, signed and dated. I’ve only now got to wait two more weeks before my start date. I’m definitely looking forward to this opportunity.

I can’t help it. I know that they pee and poop and chew on all your most expensive and cherished possessions and that it takes a while to fully train them. But I want another puppy! They’re so cute and cuddly and I want my 3-year-old puppy to have a little buddy to play with.

“Would you be mad if I said I was gay?”

That’s so textbook, but no other words slip so easily for such a situation. My eyes keep tripping in unpredictable patterns and my fingers just might break one of my toes if it pulls any harder. I wait for a response, pleas to God speeding through my head.

“I couldn’t say mad, or even disappointed…”

He hasn’t punched me and anger isn’t dripping from his mouth. I’m clear. I probably just made things worse, but a smile still threatens to peek through. Atlas has once again taken back his eternal burden. It didn’t fit so well on me anyway.

He continues to talk, but I’m no longer listening. I told him. I’m free. They know who I am and now it’s their turn to deal with it. Now…now, maybe I can live.

I can’t believe I finally came out to my father. This was months after I had already came out to my mother. You know, I once read that the hardest three words you’ll ever say is “I love you.” And I guess, to a certain extent, it is hard to say it and mean it. But, the three hardest words I have ever had to mumble were, “Mom, I’m gay.” The trust I had to feel in order to reveal such a secret! Sometimes, I can’t believe I actually told them. But, I did and, as all things, there were repercussions.

I’d previously read numerous materials on coming out and parents’ reactions. But, that still didn’t fully prepare me for my mom’s questions.

“What did I do wrong?” Wrong? That would imply something’s the matter with me. Is there? I can’t express how much this question hurt me at the time.

“What kind of choice is this?” I wasn’t aware it was a choice in the first place. Raise you’re hand if you would want to chose months of denial, depression, anger, and complete loneliness. Ohhh, pick me! Pick me! Not.

Then there was my dad’s opinion.

“Don’t tell your brother. We don’t want to affect his life choices.” What the-? Excuse me, but you don’t just turn people gay. If you could, I’d go up to that cute cheerleader I know and give her a good one on the lips. He doesn’t know it, but my brother was the first person I ever told. He supports me and makes me feel good about myself with a simple hug and an, “I love you, sis.”

Coming out was hard. Scratch that, it was worse than hard. But, it takes even more energy to live a lie. Not everyone knows about me, but the people that matter – they know. I don’t have to watch what I say or be careful what I read. It’s hard enough living life just one day at a time.