I knew I was gay in 6th grade. Being raised in a religious household, that posed numerous problems. My family/religion infiltrated my brain with ideals that reflected “normal households” and I fell right for it. While I had experiences with girls in high school/college, I remained in search of a husband to settle down with and become a mother. Time and time again I would see lesbian couples out and about, and be heartbroken that I could never experience that. Two female friends would get engaged, and I’d swell with jealousy at their authentic lives. I had a good life. A good father for my children. A life people sought and prayed for, and yet it wasn’t enough.
As we all know, immensely unhappy people cannot have immensely happy marriages. Mine was no different, and soon enough we were drowning in a supportive, yet unfulfilling relationship. Our home contained hardworking, compassionate, and loving adults, but not two that belonged together. I was dying inside. I was wasting my years embracing this life I couldn’t love, and in return wasting his. So I came out to my husband. Wow. That was the most difficult and beautiful thing I’ve ever done. How do you tell a man you exchanged vows with that you are gay? You just do. I’m not sure I deserve the level of support and love that I was met with, but I received it anyway. He stood by my when my family didn’t want to graciously accept the news. We co-parent our two sons with the open knowledge that mommy is gay. We have family meals together at least once a week, and visit each other’s houses often to play with our boys together. We love each other more now than we ever have. Authentically.
Coming out as an adult with two children and a newly separated marriage, is more difficult than you can ever imagine. People don’t understand, and at the end of the day, they don’t need to. I did not make this choice for my social media friends/followers. I made it so that I can spend my years not longing for other’s authentic relationships. I made this choice so that my sons can see their mom living her life, instead of simply surviving it.
I had to stop apologizing for being born gay. In doing so, it was overcasting a lens of wrongdoing onto my sexuality. My sexuality is not wrong. I am not sorry. I should not have to be. So, I stopped apologizing.