As I continue to grow and live and experience, I feel as though I have reached a point where I
am truly comfortable in my own skin. But of course, this took time and wasn’t always the case.
To be comfortable with yourself, and specifically your sexuality, takes patience.
In order to share this experience with others who may be struggling, I am writing about a time
where I was not comfortable with myself, when I was coming to terms with who I was.
Coming out is a process. Before you come out to anyone else, you have to come out to yourself. I remember writing this journal post. It was in October of last year and I was on a bus.
My brain was full of confusion, so I grabbed a pen and just started writing.
Here’s what I wrote, word for word:
“OKAY. So a lot has been going on in the brain right now. I am a believer in the power of
writing and that it is my most immediate and useful form of expression and exploration of my
thoughts. So here goes.
I have this looming and exciting yet scary and terrifying though that I might be gay. This isn’t
necessarily a new thought, but the first time that I’ve set aside real time to explore my thoughts for the answer. Sexuality is such a complicated issue, but how beautiful it is to come to terms and be comfortable in it and your own skin.
The thought started as just an inkling of curiosity, and grew with, shockingly, my Tinder
explorations. I the felt the most sexual and butterfly-like excitement swiping through women
that I never felt while sifting through men. The thought of intimacy with a woman is scary, but
way more exciting of a thought compared to my past experiences, and even my most wild
fantasies with a man.
I picture myself being affectionate, happy, dancing, holding hands, cuddling, with both sexes,
and girls feels more comfortable, more exciting, and just right.
I feel like when girls are born, they are told to be straight. Told to find their prince, win the approval of a man, and the envy of every other girl. And sexually, it’s supposed to be exciting
when a man finds you appealing.
It seems like the only excitement I have gotten from men is the feeling of accomplishment or
approval. That I am good enough. But never have I felt a sense of reciprocating feelings of love
or desire. Of course, I find some guys sexy, but not in a “I need you right now” sort of way, just that I recognize it as a fact.
Girls on the other hand, I am excited by the idea of exploring, of seeing her beautiful smile or
eyes, holding her, and loving her back, not just bathing in the happiness of someone’s
Of course I have doubts. What if I haven’t found the right man? What if I’m just jaded? But this
sounds naive. My gut is telling me I am right to feel what I feel.
I also have fears. What if people see me dif erently? Does this mean giving up men in my life? I
enjoy their company and energy. What if people don’t believe me because I’ve only been with
men in the past?
It is confusing. I just don’t think this is what straight is supposed to feel like.
I don’t want my sexuality to be a big deal, just a fact about me, not my definition. I want to
love myself and live this life as “me” as possible, and not confronting my thoughts on sexuality
is not the way to do that.
I want to feel real love, happiness, and freedom.”
Even after I wrote this in my shiny gold journal, it took some time to fully accept myself. Then
even more time to muster the courage to try and to tell other people, in the hopes that they
would accept me.
At the time when I wrote that journal entry, I remember feeling a lot of pain. And stress. And
sadness. And I can only imagine that there are countless numbers of people working to accept
themselves right now.
I can now say, almost a year later, that it really, truly, absolutely does gets better. Just give it some time.