Coming out was different for me, I’m 42 have a good sense of myself and am confident in who I am. I did not have to face the struggles that young people face when coming out I did not have the fears, insecurity or self doubt. I’m old enough to live my own life and say “fuck you” if you don’t like it get on board or get the hell off.So at 41 I fell in love and started to date a girl. She was and is amazing, breath taking intelligent, beautiful in a gentle non assuming way and wise wise wise. She is quiet, soft, delicious, loving and drinkable. She is and will forever be the love of my life, this is the person I have waited for forever and the person I have hurt the most because my whole life I had to fight and defend myself to survive in my household. It was crush or be crushed any sign on weakness and you were dead in the water. God bless my sister a sensitive type, someone who wears her emotions on her sleeve someone who was an easy target for my mother. When my mother was verbally assaulting her and she saw the crack begin to widen and my sisters eyes fill with tears because she was told she was stupid, worthless and whore or whatever her word of the day was…it was like a predator smelling the scent of their prey. Immediately she would attack my sister and tease her for crying, being weak, stupid and unable to control her emotions. She would tell her she was crazy and needed help because she was nothing more than a big cry baby and that this would be her downfall for the rest of her life and make her unsuccessful in anything she attempted.I watched, observed and quickly learned not to cry, no weakness was shown or I would be in the scope and she would finish me off. No way, my emotion of escape was anger to the 100th degree, stand and fight, be louder, be stronger, push back, say something equally mean or meaner, not go down without a fight, fight, fight, fight. It was how I survived suicide attempts by the age of 12. I knew better than to try again because I was punished severly by my mother when she was aware of the second time. “What are you crazy? now I have to treat you like a fucking baby? watch your every god damn move and babysit you like a kindergardener? Jesus Christ what the hell is matter with you? !SLAP! Why are you making so much work for me? !SLAP!”After finally letting me out of the bathroom I heard her walk casually through the front room and spew with a sigh of exasperation “Your sister tried to kill herself tonight, what to you think of that?” My brother sat on the couch blankly staring ahead at the TV saying nothing. She then arrived to the kitchen and said the same comment to my Dad who said “Oh my god.” That was it. If it wasn’t for my sister L I would have never even seen a doctor about it. She understood that pain, she knew how deep it went and she was the only one to try to take some action.

I anticipated the day I would finally start telling my friends, “I’m in love with a girl.” M and K were the first, then my nieces, then E and D. The funny part is that I did it at the same Thai restaurant each time I was begining to think the waitress would walk up and just say “she gay, I take yur orda?” Each group of friends and loved ones was supportive, happy and could see the pureness of my bliss. It was unmistakenly there I literally was walking on air. M was curious and had lots of questions. L had some of the same questions but was also so excited by the potential of two people she loved and respected so much coming together. As time went on I shared it with more and more of my friends/coworkers.  My bosses know, my immediate friends and people I am close to know, K is a big part of my life.

There were so many amazingly loving, beautiful, deeply connecting moments we shared. There were also struggles that we endured that until recently we didn’t even know or understand that came from both of our childhoods. Now so much later after being in couples counseling for the last couple months we are trying to figure out if there is an “us” left to save. With the knowledge we both gained there is great potential, she discovered her dysfuntions and I jumped into mine head first and tore them open, getting past the anger and justification and arriving to the most painful part of my heart and psyche. So painful that in some moments I felt again that I might not be able to go on and survive the pain of reliving those moments. I’ve never known that there was so much I didn’t deal with, I thought I was past it, but as therapy began I remembered more and more about my childhood, telling K what used to be and what head games I was constantly dodging and trying to be one step ahead of. With each memory I was able to immediately link it back to our relationship. Like why I always needed to be right and why I would debate till end and stand my ground that her sweatshirt wasn’t red but burnt orange.

In the end it doesn’t matter but I was operating as I had as a child and giving in and giving up and being wrong or mistaken had earth shattering repercussions for me. I was no longer needing to defend and stand my ground, K wasn’t against me, she wasn’t going to hurt me, she wasn’t trying to defeat me but I couldn’t break my patterns and in the end it may have cost me the one person who ever really loved me and that I loved so.

We are so different but in some ways that is the beauty of it she provides me with what I will never fully understand or come to on my own. Her perspective, her heart, her smarts continously bring me to better places, she elevates me on every level even when she challenges me to move beyond my limitations. I love her deeply and the thought of us not succeeding and not staying together is beyond heart breaking and terrifying for me. Right now she needs space and time both of which can be a challenge for me because in my household the “silent treatment” meant a week of attacks, snide comments, your wet clothes being yanked out of the dryer and thrown in the driveway, hearing everyone called to the dinner table and invited to eat except you, the silent treatment was hell week. But K isn’t my mother and her quiet time, where she needs to think, regroup, recharge and pull her thoughts together isn’t about punishing me or sending me a message that I’m not loved although I let it trick my head because it triggered the insecurities of my childhood. She’s taking time so that she can be considerate and think about what she needs, what must her next step be. She is literally thoughtful in her process and if I think of it that way I can cherish the idea that she needs that time away from me. I can cherish and respect that she loves and thinks so deeply that rather than be impulsive and reactive she stops and uses her heart and her head together. I told you she is amazing