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El Fabula Exita el Closeta del Pirateninja!
By Holly (pirateninja)

Coming out the closet; it can essentially mean two different things to a person: Coming out to yourself and coming out to others.

I can't remember exactly when the former actually happened to me; I had known all my life that I was somewhat "different" from the norm. I had never fit in with the girls, and although I identified more with the guys, they would never let me hang out with them. Looking back upon it now, it seems obvious. I had gay thoughts even as a kid; although four year old's don't have an understanding of sex or anything, I always had these images of me growing up and being able to marry a girl, wearing a tux. It was simple harmless thoughts, that at such I young age, I just thought everyone had them and paid little attention to them.

It was past primary school and into Middle school that I first had suspicions, and yet I refused to believe any little nagging thought that popped into my head. When I got crushes on female teachers it was "No, you just admire them". Everyone around me could see it, I was just not straight, and it was rare that I could walk down a corridor at school without "dyke" or "lesbo" being yelled at me. The kids that said it probably didn't even understand fully what they meant, but I realised what they were insinuating, and I just pushed down all these thoughts in my head, telling myself that I wasn't attracted to girls, and that even if I was, it was simply a phase, and that everyone was wrong. I even tried to kid myself I liked guys. When asked, I would pick the first guy that came to mind, elaborating on my feelings for them, trying to convince myself I actually felt that way. The honest truth is that it convinced neither me nor anyone else. So the name calling got worse. I was followed wherever I went around school and outside it, when all I wanted was to escape, to be alone with my thoughts, as harmful as they seemed at the time. Then, when I got to eleven, it got terrible.

One guy stood on my feet while punching me in the ribs yelling "Whatcha gonna do, dyke?" at me repeatedly, while his cronies stood and laughed. In all honesty, I was just thankful that they hit me in the ribs rather than the face, so I wouldn't have had to tell my mom; this was a time where I secretly knew I liked girls, but was terribly reluctant to even let myself know that fact. I would have hated having confessed to someone, especially someone so close, that I had gotten beat up for that very reason. I knew I had to get out of that school, and into somewhere else where I could start afresh and just not have to deal with people knowing.

So I left, got into a new school, and promptly fell in love. This was nothing like the crushes I'd had before; a classmate of mine was simply perfect. She was not in my close circle of friends, but everytime I looked across at her, it was as if time had stopped still, and it was just me and her.

Then I started puberty, and that's when I remember feeling as low as one can go. I would dream about her, constantly, the sort of dreams that can't be mentioned in detail on a site like EC. I would fantasize constantly, and suddenly I noticed a whole tonne of women, everything about them that made them wonderful, and so damn beautiful. That's when I finally had to face up to it, and it was easier than falling off a log. The thought process was simple;

"There you have it; you're sexually attracted to women."
"Well, duh! Where the hell have you been your whole life?"
"Well, thank god, at least I finally fully realise."
"Thank god? I hope you realise, anyone finds out about this, you're screwed! Men date women, women date men. You can't ever let this get out, you'll go back to how it was before! Do you want that? Being different?"
"You understand, this is wrong. You keep your mouth shut, and we can carry on as normal. No matter what, you can't tell a soul. You'll die if anyone finds out."

As surreal as it may seem, a conversation along these lines DID happen in my mind. I had established a couple of things; one, I'm gay. Two, nobody could know. I was relieved and paranoid at the same time. Relieved because I had finally stopped repressing and denying. Paranoid, because I couldn't risk slipping up and telling anyone.

And then from then on, I felt as if everyone was watching me, just waiting to hear me slip up. So I closed in on myself, became extremely defensive when the subject of love and such came up, so much so, I was far too obvious I was hiding something, something my friends and family picked up on.

I had successfully come out to myself, I was allowing myself to dream and fantasize, on the condition that nobody knew. Unfortunately, even all my defensive measures couldn't stop my first coming out. It wasn't planned, it wasn't scripted, I was just completely caught off guard.

It was a history lesson, July 05. We had finished our SATS and were looking forward to the holidays. I was sat next to two people, who weren't even my best friends, and they were discussing guys they liked. Suddenly, they turned to me, and said "So which guys do you like then?" and out of the blue, completely on autopilot, came my answer;

"I don't really like guys, I much prefer girls."

As soon as that slipped out, I was mentaly kicking myself. "Shit! What have you done? You ruined everything!" Nearly 2 to 3 years of being out to myself and keeping it hidden was ruined by a single sentence. And I can remember their response as clear as day even now;

"So.... ummmm.... what girls do you like then?"

It. Felt. Brilliant.

I felt nothing could touch me. I had expected the worst, and as soon as she said that, it felt like I had some sort of tumour that had been cut out of me, or that I could finally breathe after being strangled for so long. And then barely the next day, I told my best friends. I could hide it no longer, and do you know what they said to me in return?

"We'd already guessed. And d'you know what? We still like you, no matter what."

I had already told you just how exhilarating it felt to finally be out to people, and to be given the blessing by my best friends... I couldn't remember feeling better. Then I got cocky, and that's when it started to go badly.

I was on a high from the so far positive responses, and I thought nothing could go wrong, so at the next oppurtunity I had, I told my sister.


I didn't take into account her opinions or anything, I didn't try to ask her beforehand what she thought, but simply just thought "people have taken it well, it's all uphill from here". It was anything but. She bawled at me, saying I had ruined her life, before running to mom and ruining my plans at coming out to my own mother. She did her best to calm my sister before talking with me alone, asking if it was true, asking if it was a phase. When she had establised it was true, and that it wasn't a phase, she commented on how she had seen me grow up, and guessed, but didn't want to ask me in case I was offended or she'd got it wrong. Since then, she has supported me consistently, and as I have become more open, so has she.

One thing my mom did stress though, was that I had to tell dad ASAP. She knew, and so he had a right to know too. But guess what? Homophobic sister beat me to that as well. He was awkward, refusing to talk about it. I wasn't as worried with this one, because I already knew that mom knew, but still, the dodging around me, the awkwardness, the inability to even say "gay" anymore, I could sense he didn't like it My sister consistently made remarks at how wrong and disgusting I was, and I developed a severe self loathing and feel of disappointment in myself. I couldn't be the perfect daughter or sister, so I turned in on myself again.

I wanted to escape, like I had in previous years into my own thoughts, and that's when I dicovered booze and cigarettes. I would lose myself whenever possible into sweet intoxication, trying to forget everything, even my own sexuality. All I wanted was to be lost in myself. Luckily, nothing terrible happened to me except bad hangovers, it could have turned out a hell of a lot worse when I was vulnerable and upset, but I had my friends to lean on at that point. It was when my friend got their stomach pumped that I realised just how easily it could have been me that was in hospital because of it. So I quit drinking quite so ferociously, and tried to get some support; throughout that time I had acted to nearly everyone except the people I drank with, that everything was okay. Even if someone had tried to help me I would have brushed them away.

So I learned to like myself again, I came out to myself again. I knew no amount of alcohol could make it go away, so I became more open with it, discussing it instead of drinking. I became happier, and I found EC and my LGBT Youth group. The past year has been something amazing for me. I have not denied being gay once in the past year, when previously I couldn't say yes when I was asked "Are you a lesbian?" by my grandmother. She knows now, and embraces it.

Coming out to certain "love"; happened after I stopped going out drinking all the time. It was one of the things that helped me like myself again.

So I was talking to a certain friend, actually one of the people I had first come out to back in the history lesson, this was about a year later, summer of 06, and we had started discussing who we liked again. And she managed to get it out of me that I had this insane love for someone in our class for the years I'd known her. She was actually surprised I'd kept it bottled for that long, and badgered me that the "certain someone" had a right to know how I felt. I was very reluctant to tell her, afraid she'd hate me and reject me, so the person decided to tell her for me. I remember that day very well, she was going to tell her at the end of the day, and what lesson did I happen to have last at the end of that day? Why the very same lesson where I sit next to "certain someone"! I was pale and shaking the whole way through, and kept looking up at the clock every three seconds;

"Forty Minutes til she knows..."

"Twentry minutes til she knows..."

"5 minutes til she knows..."

At the end of the day, I was ready to call it off, and went in search of the person who would do the telling, but I was too late, by the time I'd found them, she'd already told "certain someone".

It was painful to say the least, having to go home and fear what tomorrow would bring from her. What would she say? Would she yell at me? Would she stop being friends with me? Which is why, since then, I've always relied upon myself to tell people, it's horrible having to wait to find out their reactions. And on this particular time I had to wait two days. She wouldn't speak to me for two days, and I had just about assumed the worst. Then one day she just cornered me, and aplogised for not speaking to me;

"I'm sorry, it's been weird these past couple of days, but honestly, although I don't feel the same way back, I just want to go back to how it was before, just friends."

It was another of those positive results; as much as it's horrible being told that feelings are not reciprocated, I didn't lose a thing because of it. She had shown me that she didn't hate me, and that we could just carry on as before. I wouldn't call it an amazing feeling, but like most other coming outs, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from me.

If I thought I was out before, it's nothing to how out I am now.

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