How I Came Out To Myself. (The 2nd Installation)

bi-fi

So, a while back I wrote a post entitled “How I Came Out To Myself”. In light of recent events, I think it’s time for me to revisit the topic of my bisexuality. Y’know, since I’m getting my education from a school where the word “gay” has never been said on stage before? I swear, if I didn’t have this blog to express myself I would go legitimately insane.

Now, if you’ve been following this blog for a while (like, I’m saying this in the highly unlikely case that people actually read my posts) you would’ve read this post. It’s the first part of a series I’m going to start, called “How I Came Out To Myself”. Because I’ve always believed that as far as my sexuality is concerned, coming out to myself was the biggest challenge for me to pass. It’s a milestone that I’ll always want to revisit, reflect on, and learn from. I came out to my mother a good six months ago, and yet I still haven’t found that experience as unnerving as coming out to myself. She dismissed my “claim” that I was bisexual, stashing it under the category of teenage angst. Hey, no hard feelings, I wasn’t expecting anything different. I timed it safely- I chose to come out to her at a time where I already knew for sure that I was Bi. Nothing she could say would make me doubt my sexuality, I’m mature enough to know what I am and what I’m not.

But that’s all black and white. Her reaction didn’t change my identity, but that didn’t stop my feelings from getting hurt. And it’s instances like this that make me realize the importance of coming out to yourself. LGBTQ+ individuals sometimes find that they’re their only ally at one point or another. I’m going to be elaborating more on instances of seemingly minor, casual homophobia that served as huge barriers to me while I was trying to accept myself.

Let’s rewind to two years ago- I was a dewy eyed fourteen year old who seemed to live in the constant fear that the floor would fall out from under her feet. Constantly running from her emotions, sucking up tears, and overall just being all over the place because nobody told her any better. I remember asking if I could do a presentation on how LGBT people in our school get bullied, and I remember getting the idea torn down as inappropriate. I still regret how apologetic I was for standing up. I still remember running to the bathroom and locking myself up so I could breathe. Those emotions of internalized  hatred were all too real and intense for my tiny body to handle. It brought me back to when I had to listen to my uncle harping on about how homosexuality can be cured, as if it should be cured. I remember when I confided in my mom about the failed presentation pitch. I only remember because it hurt so much when she hushed me and shut the conversation down. Even today, I hear the echo of a guy in my class asking “why do you care, anyway? You’re not gay” and I remember the way I replied, saying “no, of course not!”. There, in that bathroom stall I felt resentment boiling up inside of me like the black death. I felt the rising panic as I thought to myself “stop thinking these thoughts, no-one can know.” I was horrified with myself, and there’s no way for me to sugar coat that. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to capture how scary it is to try to run away from yourself.

That was two years ago, and a whole lot of things have changed since then. I realized that love is associated with  specific activity in dopamine-rich brain regions associated with reward and motivation. Falling in love reduces your cortisol levels. Heck, love can even be a painkiller. Among these realizations I made one very important observation – love is love. Love is petty, love is going to be debatable, but it’s all the same hormones fucking with your brain, just in different sequences. Call me a little psycho for saying this, but this series of realizations made me understand the true beauty of love. And after this set of epiphanies, I found myself unable to ever admonish myself for love, the raw emotion. That’s one of the ways in which I accepted myself and even embraced my orientation, and I’m finding ways to accept myself all the time 🙂 You better believe I’ll be adding to this series whenever I find new lessons I teach myself!

Queertastic Is Out! (thank you for reading, if you did xD)

Thank you for reading! wanna check out more rants and weird attempts at poems and musings? My blog is open, and if you’re nice I’ll hand out cookies xD Anyways, if you’re currently struggling with depression and are feeling alone, take this free hug (click here and here and here for cute GIF s that send hugs from me to you ^^)and also a few hotlines, just in case.

Vent to an anonymous stranger- https://www.7cups.com

In case you’re feeling suicidal- http://suicide.org/

Hotlines for Depression specifically- http://addiction.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Depression_Hotlines

Advertisements

7 comments

  1. Alisa Hutton · September 12

    Incredibly well written and expressed. I am much older than you but it was interesting reading this. These were things I very much can identify with in my own coming out 20 years ago. I like like your terming of minor, casual homophobia. For myself this had a HUGE impact on my coming out to myself as you say. Well written.

    Liked by 1 person

    • queertasticblog · September 12

      Thank you so much 🙂 it makes me feel so relieved to know that there are people who can identify with what I felt! -sending hugs-

      Liked by 1 person

  2. BelleUnruh · September 19

    Your story reminded me of how no one in my family wanted me to talk about my sexual abuse from my father. Their eyes would look away and some said I have to leave it behind me. Well, that was true in a way, but it took years of therapy to do that! I found out from the beginning; no one wants to hear about your pain or deepest thoughts so you have to pay someone a lot of money to do it, It was worth it though; I had to talk to someone.

    I’m not saying being bi-sexual is like being molested! Both my daughters and one sister are bi-sexual and I love them to pieces. It is just so heart-rending when people don’t want to listen to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • queertasticblog · September 19

      Well, firstly I absolutely have to thank you fro reading 🙂 Hearing your story and seeing how strong you are makes me wanna reach out and give you a huge internet hug! (hehe, this gif is for you- https://giphy.com/gifs/EFenCRE0j0H6M/html5 ) . It makes me so happy, and actually extremely relieved that somebody has felt the same way. Sure, being bisexual and being molested are far apart in terms of the actual experience, but the emotions involved are quite similar at times as you so rightly pointed out. I love how you’re such an accepting person, and I hope you have an awesome day/night/afternoon ahead 🙂
      Love from Queertastic ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  3. BelleUnruh · September 20

    Thank you for the hug.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Pingback: Fifty Posts Later… | Queertastic

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s