Sharing an Abridged Life and Coming Out Story

Big fat warning: TLDR!!

I wanted to write down the two-decades long process of my self-acceptance and coming out. I realize I'm sharing a lot of personal stuff here, but I'm mostly doing this for myself, to get this all off my chest and to have something to refer to when the going gets tough. If my story can help anybody else who's going through a rough patch, especially those who are younger than me, all the better. I suspect many will relate to it. One of the things I learned from this is that I'm not alone. Neither are you.

Skip to the bottom, "Coming Out to My Sister," if you'd rather just read the coming out story (as you should), instead of my autobiographical walls of text :lol:

Born this way

I've had a bit of an unusual upbringing, but I think deep down, I've always known I was gay. I was born in Italy of an American mother with Italian roots, and an Italian dad. I grew up bilingual, since dad didn't (and still doesn't) speak a word of English, while mom spoke English exclusively with me and sent me to British schools while we lived in Milan. We moved around a lot when I was little, but I lived in Italy a total of eight years.

My childhood was largely uneventful in a good way. I grew up around a very large, traditional Italian family that I felt very close to. My parents are calm, hardworking people with good values. I've always had a very obedient personality, and I've striven my whole life to live up to my parents' high but not unreasonable expectations: get high grades, pick a passion and excel at it, always do your best.

The only relevant detail about my preschool years is that my dad didn't like it that I preferred doodling in my Little Mermaid coloring books instead of playing soccer with the other boys. This is something he probably doesn't remember, but it has always stuck with me. Dad very much wanted an athletic man's man as son. Little Mermaid aside, I've always been a nerd, and I've never been any good at sports. As I got older, I was also never a womanizer, which he clearly didn't appreciate. And it has always kind of killed me that I disappointed my dad.

Around my eighth birthday, my parents got divorced. That's never pleasant for any child, but my parents' divorce was fairly clean and amicable. Mom thought I'd have a better future in America, so she took me with her to the States. In the grand scheme of things that was the right decision, but it was not easy leaving my dad, family and hometown behind. I ended up changing elementary schools six times, which made me adaptable, but also caused me to make new best friends one year that I'd never see again the following year. The moving has nothing to do with my sexuality, but it did make me insecure and distrustful of people, because apart from my mother, I felt like everybody else would eventually abandon me.

I think I had my first gay thought when I was in fourth grade. My mom, step-dad and I had settled in New York by then. I was sitting across from my classmate who's blond hair was parted in the middle, and he was wearing a tie-dye t-shirt. He looked like Backstreet Boy Aaron Carter. (This was the late '90s). I didn't know what gay was then, but I remember thinking that all the girls in class must have a crush on this kid, and if I were a girl, I'd like him too.

By the time I got to junior high, mother had started cracking the academic whip, and I wasn't allowed to have fun unless I brought home straight A's. This didn't upset me, and I never felt rebellious or angry. I genuinely took pride in getting good grades, doing chores, and saying my prayers. I really just wanted to be a good kid. So after much sweat, the A's started showing up on my report card.

Adolescence is not fun

Thanks to mom's pushing, I got accepted into one of the more prestigious high schools in my area. The only problem was that the high school was an all-boys Catholic academy. It was very competitive, and very, very homophobic.

Not to get emo on you, but high school was not a happy time for me, and to this day I'm convinced it's the reason it took me so long to come out of the closet. For four long years I'd sit in class having forbidden thoughts - that guy is cute, I'd like to touch that other guy, I want to kiss my best friend, etc. - while being taught that these thoughts were sinful and I was going to burn in hell for them. I didn't dare breathe a word about my sexuality to anyone. I felt alone and isolated, and there was no one I could talk to. Obviously not the priests, certainly not my classmates who were also being taught that all homos go to hell, not to mom who was busy starting a new family, and definitely not to dad who lived far away and didn't need another reason to be disappointed with me.

But even if there had been somebody to talk to, it wouldn't have helped much. I didn't want to be gay. I hated myself for being gay. Gays were deviants, and I was trying so hard to be a good kid! Homophobia sucks. Internalized homophobia is the worst kind, because nothing anyone says will make it go away. You have to make it go away yourself.

I repressed my sexuality and refused to think about it. I was always able to produce an excuse for why I didn't have a girlfriend or why I never talked about sex in general. There was always something to study, or an internship to apply for, or some other chore or errand to run because... I had to be a good kid! I told myself I was too busy with more important things to come to terms with my sexuality.

More than anything, I just wanted to be like everybody else. I was a foreign nerd in a homogeneous school full of athletes, and I already didn't feel like I fit in. I didn't need another flaw that made me different. But the more I tried to be like something I wasn't, the more I wound up hating myself - I hated that I wasn't athletic, I hated that I never dressed cool, I hated that I wasn't like my self-assured classmates who liked girls. I felt worthless, and I stopped trying to make or keep friends. I didn't think they wanted to stick around with me anyway.

Everybody has to go through being a teenager, and I'm sure everybody winds up feeling like nobody understands them when they're adolescents. I certainly did. Good news: eventually we all grow up, we get stronger and wiser, and that feeling of hopelessness goes away. I graduated high school. I don't know if I would have made it without my little sister, whom I adore and who was the reason I didn't do anything self-destructive in my teens. But the point is that it does get better.

But college is super fun. (Yes, even if you're closeted.)

College was, to put it simply, the best. I absolutely adored it. I felt lucky to get into a good one, and it was great for my self-esteem. I was finally able to stop feeling sorry for myself. As a nerd, the opportunity to learn for learning's sake was a dream come true. I got to strike out on my own in a new city, free from dad's disapproval and mom's nagging. I studied what I wanted, I made friends with whom I wanted, and if I skipped a statistics discussion session every once in a while the heavens were not going to smite me. Who wouldn't love it?

Looking back, it was unfortunate that I didn't accept my sexuality during my college years. It would have been the perfect time. I grew a lot and learned so much about myself. But I did avoid the LGBT scene, either consciously or unconsciously. There were just so many other personal and psychological issues apart from my being gay that I had to tackle, and college gave me the time and space to do it. I was a big nerd, but so was everybody else at my school, and they were all awesome! I sucked at sports, but that was cool too, because we'd go play frisbee just for fun. I didn't want to be in a relationship; that was also OK. Lots of people there were career-focused workaholics. Nobody judged me. Everybody was so cool and smart and interesting and fun to be around. Even better, these cool people thought I was interesting and fun to be around. After a lifetime of moving around, I'd finally found a home where I fit in. Six months into my first year of college, I didn't hate myself anymore. I still denied that I was gay, but I didn't think I was worthless.

The sad thing about college is that it, too, must end. By graduation day I was still a virgin. I'd only made out with and felt up a couple of girls, which made me feel weird because I'd been pressured to do those things. Regardless, I felt pretty prepared for life, having survived a rigorous curriculum and graduated with honors. College was over and it was time to become an adult. We're all getting older. Might as well embrace it, because there's nothing anybody can do about that.

I'm too busy to be gay (and five million other excuses)

After graduation, out of bravery or sheer idiocy I moved blindly to Washington, DC for an unpaid internship that, thankfully, turned into a full-time job. DC is one of the the gayest cities in America. Again, this would have been a good time to come out. But real life is hard, and it actually equipped me with a whole new batch of excuses to postpone accepting my sexuality. I was young and very idealistic, and I wanted to make the world a better place. I didn't have time to waste thinking about how I liked boys. Sad how even with my new confidence, I still wanted to be "normal" instead of happy.

I don't know if you've seen the TV series VEEP with Julia Louis Dreyfus on HBO (you should watch it if you haven't - it's hilarious), but that was basically my life. DC turned my into a cynic very quickly. Instead of saving the world, I discovered that my job entailed making self-absorbed people look smart and worrying whether we had enough name tags to go around for next Thursday's economic strategy roundtable. It was still a blast though. I loved my workplace, and I met my best friends there. This was another period of maturity and discovery. DC got claustrophobic after a while though, and all my friends started leaving to pursue advanced degrees. I thought I should probably do that too, so I left after three years. But I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

I did, however, make a big mistake while I was there. I started dating a girl. Granted it was long distance, but still. She was my best friend in college. The relationship was pretty serious. I thought foolishly but earnestly that being with her would turn me straight. And I loved her. I lost my virginity to her at the ripe age of 23, and while we got physical a lot when we saw each other, it felt off to me. We were "together" (air quotes because the relationship was long distance) for five years, but it was really only intense for two. Still, I was prepared to marry her.

I know there are a lot of older gay men and women who have gotten married and stayed in the closet well into middle age. I was able to avoid that path, but I know exactly how they felt. Don't judge them - they and their spouses deserve all the compassion in the world. Maybe in the future gay people won't feel pressured to lie to themselves and everyone else. It was excruciating for me, trying my hardest to love my girlfriend the way she deserved to be loved. But I couldn't. I felt like a failure.

But dad was so, so happy when he found out I was dating my girlfriend. How proud he was that his son was actually "normal." I think he was happier about that than about me graduating with honors. That still rankles me.

Sometimes you have to go down to go up (that's not a sexual pun I swear)

I was still with my girlfriend when I left DC to go to graduate school in New York. I entered a dual master's program mostly because I thought it was the necessary next step in my mission to be a good kid. I got it into my head that I wanted to be a journalist even though I'd never reported or interviewed anyone in my life. My parents are both journalists, so doing that would surely earn me their approval. And I've always been pretty good at doing the class thing, so why not go to grad school? Not to mention that a two-year graduate program would give me plenty of work to distract me from being gay.

For those who are curious, grad school is not like college. NYC is absurdly expensive, and I was forced to choose between living in university housing or with my parents, which at 25 were not desirable options. The coursework was difficult and the program was pricey, and my heart really wasn't in it. I muscled through it because I thought the university's name would look good on my resume and because it's what everybody wanted me to do. But it was a regressive experience: I wasn't independent, the life I had in DC was gone, my friends were far away, and I'd emptied my bank account.

Two years came and went. I earned my degrees, but the accomplishments rang hollow because I felt like I'd wasted those two years going after something I didn't really want. I didn't feel like I belonged in my program. I attended lots of networking sessions and pretended to be interested in a career I really didn't care about. All my classmates were dying to be reporters, while I was faking it. I felt both stupid and guilty.

And I think that's what made something snap inside me. I'd squandered a lot of time and money, and for what? For the prestige? Because I thought it would make mom and dad happy? Because I thought that's what normal, ambitious twenty-somethings do? All those reasons are stupid. It's sad that it took me so long to get this, but: even if you're not like everybody else, that doesn't make you a bad person.

The parallel with my sexuality become painfully obvious. I thought: holy shit, do I really want the rest of my life to be just like grad school? Do I want to keep pretending to be something I'm not when it's making me miserable? I didn't need these degrees to feel validated. And I don't need parental approval to feel good about myself either. Remember how people liked me when I was myself in my early twenties? I already feel good about myself. And, scary but exciting thought: I don't need to pretend I'm straight to feel good about myself either.

Coming Out to My Sister

Something about having wasted two years doing something I hated made me realize I didn't want to waste any more years hating myself. I can't pinpoint exactly when the self-acceptance happened. It was around my 27th birthday. I thought long and hard about everything that scared me about being gay: parental rejection, getting marked as an outcast, being alone forever, eternal damnation. None of it scared me anymore. I'd rejected my religion, or rather, I should say it rejected me. College and DC helped me understand that I'm not alone, I'm not an outcast; I'll always find friends and people who are like me as long as I allow myself to do what I want and be myself. And if being gay is going to make my parents not proud of me, then they're idiots. I've done everything they asked me to do. They raised me to be a kind, honest, hardworking person, just like them. I'm gay, and I'm still a good kid.

And eternal damnation? Really? Am I really going to roast because I'd rather grab a guy's bulge than cop a girl's boob? Come on. If we're going to live in a society that terrifies children into believing they're going to burn forever, can we at least make the cause of eternal damnation, like, an actual crime? I don't want to belittle anybody's religion, but I have to say this because I lived it: if your faith teaches you that you're worthless and perverse because of your sexuality - which is something you cannot control and is as natural and normal as your need to eat and sleep - then don't for one second believe that particular tenet is anything other than complete and utter bullshit. I suffered that during my formative years, and I didn't deserve it. Neither does anybody else.

These were the thoughts that swirled through my head last month. I decided to go to DC to visit old friends for the long MLK weekend. I had an amazing time. I felt happy and loved. During that weekend I also happened to stumble upon EC, when I was searching for resources and stories about other people like me. On the train ride back home, I thought about who I am, why I'd been hiding, and how it's time now to maybe be a little brave.

When I got off the train, I went straight to my parents' apartment to see my now adult sister. Fifteen minutes after I arrived, I timidly but determinedly told her that I'm gay.

Her reaction was priceless. She started jumping up and down, squealing, as if I'd given her a birthday present. She hugged me and told me she loved me. She was shocked, but very happy. I can tell you from experience - it is such a relief, and it feels so much better, to be who you are instead of pretending to be what you're not.

I guess self-acceptance happens when you wake up and finally realize, hey, I'm actually pretty awesome. Accepting my sexuality was the logical conclusion of that process. I'm a nerd. I'm goofy. I like TV shows that are made for women. That's OK. That doesn't make me weird or inferior. Also, I'm gay. That's OK too. And if dad doesn't think so, that's his problem. I'm done grasping for approval I was never going to get in the first place. My sister still loves me. I don't have anything to be ashamed of.

I'm done being made to feel like I'm less than people who really aren't that kind. And if I'm going to burn in hell for loving who I want, so be it. But perhaps God, if He's out there, ought to take the trip down there with me because He made me this way, and there's nothing I can do to change that. Believe me, I have tried. But I don't want to change anymore. I'm done hating myself. It's about time to be happy about who I am.

And now I'm done for real Thanks for reading!

 

It's funny how sensitive we are to our parents' expectations. I don't think that's something that goes away with age. It's not necessarily a bad thing - my parents made a lot of sacrifices for me, and I owe them a lot. But it feels pointless pouring so much energy into something, whether it be pretending to be straight or anything else, just to make them happy or proud, especially if it's making us miserable. And I think if our parents really love us, they don't want us to be unhappy.

(And yes, I'm aware I penned a novel here. I just needed a safe space to get this all off my chest )

Also:

(*hug*)