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Okay. Here I am. Back in the blog saddle and continuing where I left off. And where I left off was posting larger versions of the images above with the promise I’d be following them up the next day with a post and perhaps in some augmented time continuum this actually is the next day rather than the next week. Let’s go with that and continue where we left off yesterday.

One thought kept running through my head on the tearful drive home from having come out to my parents some 15 years ago. “I want a do-over I want a do-over I want a do-over.” It wasn’t for lack of planning I wanted a do-over since I’d been praying, pondering, planning, and practicing what I would say to my parents for weeks and when I walked into their house that morning, short of presenting them with glossy color handouts and a bullet-point outline flashed on the family room wall with an overhead projector, I was ready.

The plan was to begin with a direct statement. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve come to realize I’m gay.” From there I’d go on to explain the process I’d been through to reconcile my faith and sexuality. I’d recount highlights from some of the conversations I’d had with affirming straight clergy and gay Christians. I’d go on to explain how through prayer and study of the Scriptures I’d arrived at a new understanding of the passages I’d previously viewed as condemning of homosexuality. Finally, I’d wrap up my coming out presentation with what I considered the central theme of the morning; that being that my relationship with God continued to be the foundation of my life, that I loved them as always, and that I remained the same daughter they had always known and loved.

That was my plan and in theory it sounded feasible enough but in reality, not so much. It all pretty much panned out as the illustrations above suggest with none of us really hearing what the other was saying and none of us really saying what we truly meant to say. I babbled. They winced. I rambled. They stared. Like deer staring down headlights approaching at 80 miles an hour on a narrow mountain road. I’ve relived that morning a thousand times and though I know my parents and I did the best we could at the moment, I still can’t help but long at times for a world where you could wind back the clock, wipe out the past, and begin all over again.

Dad and I never really talked about that day again and in time the two of us arrived at an unspoken agreement that we’d let the elephant in the pink toto do the macarena while we settled with knowing that however wide the gap was between us, he was my father, I was his daughter, we loved each other, and nothing would ever change that.

It was a different story with Mom. From the day I’d come out to her I’d wanted little more than to talk to her and know I was really being heard by her and as time went along I came to understand my mom was longing for the same thing on her side of things.

For years I playfully teased Mom about her overuse of the gas and brake pedals when driving. Each time she’d catch a glimpse of a red light ahead I’d begin jerking back and forth in the passenger seat while chanting “Gas. Brake. Gas. Brake. Gas. Brake.” Our early conversations were much the same. Talk. Stop. Talk. Stop. Talk. Stop. In those early months following my coming out we each tested the waters now and then, awkwardly and tenuously sharing a little bit of what we were thinking and feeling but then backing up the moment we saw any expression cross the others face that so much as hinted an argument or rebuttal might be close at hand, but in time we came to a place in our relationship as mother and daughter that we really listened to each other and heard what was being said. Maybe it was nothing more than the settledness that the passing of years brings or maybe it was nothing more or less than love, that finally allowed us to listen to each other and be heard by each other without the need to refute, defend, or protect ourselves from some imagined assault on our lives or our beliefs. For all our listening neither of us did much changing in our views and our convictions but that was never the point anyway. It was just about loving and respecting each other enough to really listen and try to understand what was held in the heart of the other, and in that, mission accomplished.

That’s my story. I don’t know what yours is. Maybe you have loved ones in your life who have really listened and heard you or maybe you’ve been silenced and shut down at every attempt. Whatever the case, I’d like to throw out the following question for you to consider and then respond to in the comment section: What would you tell them (parent, friend, pastor, spouse) if they could really listen? What would be the one thing you would want them to know and understand about your life, your relationship with your partner, your faith, about being gay, about homosexuality, or about anything that matters to you as a GLBTQ Christian? Imagine the person in your life you most want to understand just walked through your door and said, “I have nothing to say. I will not argue. I will not lecture. I will not go on the offense. I’m only here to listen. I want to understand because I love you. Talk to me.” There they are, sitting quietly in front of you, the posture of their body and the expression on their face communicating nothing but warmth, openness and love. What would be the first thing you would say? What would you tell them? What words would you want them to remember when all the words you’ve been holding onto for so long had spilled out?

I’m hoping that a number of you give some consideration to this question and then share your response below in the comment section (remember you can contribute anonymously!) What I’d then like to do is take your contributions and create a series of posts that would essentially be directed to the parents, adult children, spouses, and friends of GLBTQ Christians who I know are following this blog because they’ve written to say, “We’re here! We’re not queer! Get use to it!” My hope for providing such a series is twofold: 1) That straight loved ones of some other queer could gain insight and understanding from what we would share and 2) That those of you who have yet to be heard by your loved ones, would know you’ve been heard by some other queer’s parents, children, spouse, or friends and in that you might grab a little healing for yourself.

With that, let the conversation commence!

I’ll say more about these tomorrow but I give them to you today for your consideration. Talk amongst yourselves. Or to yourself if that’s the only person who truly understands you.

You know as surely as do I that….

• Today someone is just coming to the self-awareness that the life they’re living isn’t the life that’s true for them.
• Today someone has experienced rejection, condemnation, and shame that was never meant for them due to the words and actions of their pastor, their parent, or their life-long friend.
• Today a queer youth raised by conservative Christian parents has been told to leave the only home they’ve ever known until they “come to their senses and change their ways.”
• Today a pastor tearfully preached his last sermon to the congregation he’s faithfully served because a vibrant ministry has been judged meaningless by a denominational policy that values a single sexual orientation over a heart that’s responded to God’s call.
• Today a lesbian or gay couple have been reminded with a glance at the morning paper that there continue to be people in this world bound and determined to keep their children from ever knowing what it is to be regarded as a “real family.”
• Today someone was savagely beaten for wearing clothing that reflected their true gender identity.
• Today someone is reeling from another assault on their heart and spirit and questioning if it will ever change, doubting that it ever will, and wondering what the point is in going on.

These are the someones I can’t forget even in the comfort and ease of a life lived with a beautiful wife, an affirming congregation, a supportive community, and a family that continues to love me and stay connected despite any differences that exist between us.

As GLBTQ people we have no shortage of causes and all of them are important but additionally as GLBTQ Christians there’s another aim we seek along with marriage equality, equal rights, the reversal of DADT, and the passage of ENDA. It is that every gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered man, woman, and young person would come to an understanding that God loves them fully, unconditionally, and with no small print attached.

The way we do this is simple even when it’s not easy.

We make ourselves as visible in the world as our own life situation allows us to be. We come out where we can, living as openly as we can, whether it’s in the public square or in the intimate confines of a small circle of friends. We become as visible as we possibly can so those who remain hidden might see they are not alone and so that queer youth can be assured that there are people, both gay and gay-affirming who will understand them and not abandon them when so many others in their life they trusted have closed the door.

We tell our stories of being Christians who are GLBTQ or as straight Christians who are affirming of the lives of GLBTQ people. We tell how it was like to come out and of the freedom we came to know even when we were met with rejection. We tell of those places of light in the church and in the world to bring balance to the darkness that has proceeded from the church and been lived out in the world in all too apparent and painful ways. We tell of our lives and our love for God. And if we must remain hidden we can create a blog where we tell our stories knowing that the narrative of our lives can speak hope and healing even when we can’t speak our name. ([un]Closeted Pastor, formerly known as Closeted Pastor stands as just one example).

We confront in truth and in love the misrepresentation of queer people by the church and the misinformation and stereotyping that comprises the bulk of their stance against homosexuality. While we hope that truth-telling will in time change the hearts of the church and society, for the immediate moment we tell our truth so that those who continue to struggle will understand that there’s more than one interpretation of Scripture and more than one view of homosexuality within Christianity.

We make ourselves visible, we tell our stories, we speak truth where there are lies and confront stereotypes with the diversity of our lives, and finally, we allow the witness of our lives to bring positive change into the world, the church, and into the hearts of those most in need of seeing the freedom and joy that awaits beyond the storm. We refuse to be the tormented homosexuals the church requires of us but instead we walk with confident assurance in who we are, making no apology for our lives, our relationships, or our place in the church. We proclaim without reservation our love for God and God’s love for us and we seek every day to live lives grounded in the love of God and reflective of the Spirit of Christ so that others would know claiming their sexual orientation need never come at the price of forsaking their faith and relationship with God.

This is my diabolical gay agenda and if this is what the church fears then be afraid. Be very afraid.

I’m not one to throw the word hero around lightly but if a hero is someone who risks their life to save another, then I don’t consider it a stretch to attribute heroic status to those who come out of the closet. Every time someone comes out of the closet it comes with the risk of losing the life (family, friends, community, career, home…) they’ve always known and all too tragically there continue to be places in the world where the price is much higher still, resulting in the loss of their freedom even to their very life.

Like the pilot who uses his skill and calm to land a plane safely so all the passengers are saved or the firefighter who enters a burning building to rescue a child trapped inside, the person who comes out of the closet saves not only the lives of others who  find hope and strength to go on for another day by their example, but they save their own life. Coming out is life-saving for the one who comes out and for those who witness their courageous act.

I don’t know who Pat is that David refers to in the cartoon but in my mind everyone who comes out of the closet, especially those deep locked closets held within the walls of the church, are heroes in the truest sense of the word. And like most heroes who’ve ever lived, the hero who comes out of the closet is the first to acknowledge that what they thought they could never do, they were able to do because God gave them the strength and the courage to do it; to open the door and step out.

You are all heroes or future heroes in the making in my book. Don’t sell yourself short and just as importantly, don’t sell short what God can and will do through you.

Now go get your SuperHero cape out of the dryer before it wrinkles.

When I came out as a lesbian at the age of 39 I regretted all the years I’d spent feeling out of place in the world and different from everyone I knew. I wished I’d come out sooner.

When I lost the first 100 pounds of my excess weight at the age of 42 I regretted all the years of humiliation, shame, and discomfort I’d lived through with an overweight and unhealthy body. I wished I’d lost the weight sooner.

When I met and fall in love with D at the age of 43 I regretted we’d not met when we were both younger so that we could have had more years together and perhaps a child or two along the way. I wished I’d found love sooner.

I hear it all the time from others. Regret about lost years. Years lost to living a life that never seemed to fit, lost to a marriage that should have never been, lost to the isolation of the closet, lost to submitting to a God of judgment and condemnation rather than freely loving a God of mercy and grace, lost to fulfilling others expectations rather than living into their true selves. I’ve received more emails than I can count that begin with “I came out as a lesbian…..in my late forties, at the age of 53, at the age of 64, at the age of 68, after 25 years of marriage, after 3 failed marriages, after 36 years spent as a conservative Christian missionary, after being ordained in a denomination that condemns homosexuality,” and hidden somewhere in between the lines of all those emails are waves of sadness and regret that the truth couldn’t have been revealed and lived into sooner.

While I haven’t grieved the years I could have spent between first and seventh grade enjoying the weekly serving of apple crisp served up in the Bridlemile Elementary School cafeteria, I’ve spent time grieving that I didn’t come out sooner, lose the weight sooner, and meet my beloved sooner. I’m sad for the years lost that lacked the depth of joy, contentment, purpose, and love that I now so gratefully enjoy. At the same time I’ve come to accept the truth that I came out, lost the weight, and met my beloved at the exact times that were right for me. Looking back on my life I could never have survived coming out to my family in my youth. Even two years earlier than it happened would have been too soon for me. Though being overweight for so many years came with tremendous physical limitations and emotional misery, I wasn’t ready to commit to the journey that would bring about change until I hit bottom 10 years ago. And though I love to imagine D and I falling in love in our twenties I would never have been ready to love someone so deeply and receive love in return so eagerly had it happened a moment sooner than it did.

Wholeness, in whatever area of our lives we yearn for it, comes into our lives when we’re ready to receive it and for that reason it never comes too late. If you’re 68 and are just coming out then trust that this is the very right moment for you to come out. If you’re just begun a path to transformation in an area of your life then know that now is the time; not three years ago or three years in the future.

I want to encourage you not to tangle your heart in regretting lost years because no years of your life have ever lost to God but those were the very years God was preparing you for this moment of your life, for the grace you’re opening your heart to receive, for the love you’re daring to risk embracing, for the freedom you’re eager to walk into, and for the wholeness you’re at long last ready to fall into. This day isn’t wasted because you aren’t where you think you should be. This time isn’t a time to mark with regret. Every single hour and day and year of your life is filled with possibilities you might not even be able to believe for but that God is working to bring to fulfillment in your life. With every tick of the clock God is bringing you one step closer to living into the fullness of life God has planned for you from the beginning of the ages.

In the meantime and until that time arrives, don’t say no to apple crisp. Learn from my mistake.

Click on the image for an apple crisp recipe.

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OT:     “So it’s been three weeks and one day since your surgery….”

Me:     “Wow, how nice to know someone else is as obsessed with my surgery as I am!”

OT:     “Oh yes, your surgery is all we talk about around the office. After all, what else is
………..there?”

Despite the playful banter, there’s truth in what I said to her. I’ve been obsessed. From the minute the  date was set on the calendar all I could think about was my surgery. I researched the internet for every little detail on the procedure. I spent hours watching similar surgeries being performed on The Discovery Channel with my hands in front of my eyes to avoid viewing the more gory aspects of having massive chunks of fat and skin removed with a knife and then plopped in a bucket. I stood in front of our full length bedroom mirror and wondered what I’d look like after my surgery. It’s no better now that my surgery is a thing of the past. This one thing is foremost in my mind and even when I need to focus on other things I struggle to do so for any length of time. I was in the middle of reading a couple great books before my surgery that I can’t get my head and heart back into. I’m lost to come up with anything to blog about that’s not surgery-related (as witnessed by this post,) and every conversation D and I get into ultimately leads back to my surgery. In a way I suspect it’s understandable that it continues to have so much of my attention given all the reminders that linger from the surgery; the discomfort I experience when I move a certain way, the undergarment compression suit I wear 24/7, the itching from the incision scars healing on my body, and obviously the physical changes to my body that I’m still trying to take in during my daily spin before the mirror. I’m tired of being obsessed with this one thing and I’m sure everyone else is too, from my beloved wife to my Facebook friends to you.

This place where I am today following my surgery reminds me of an earlier day when I was at the beginning of coming to terms with my sexual orientation. When I was first coming out to myself and then to others I thought about little else but being gay.  I woke up  every morning to thoughts about my sexual orientation and that one thought never left me until I fell asleep at night. I continued to function in the world. I did my work, spent time with my family, and ran my errands but through it all my sexual orientation was playing in the background. I spent hours on the internet searching for anything I could find on being gay and being Christian. I went to bookstores and poured over the gay and lesbian section, or to be more accurate I should say I poured over the books in the gay and lesbian section over on the floor of the home and garden section where I had carried them to avoid being spotted and identified in front of such a scandalous section of reading material. Driving to appointments or on errands I’d have imaginary conversations with family and friends in my car that always began with the words “I have something I need to tell you.” When I was leading a Sunday School teacher’s meeting or sitting in church I was thinking what it would be like if the person in front of me knew I was gay. How would they react? What would they say? Would they still love me? No matter what I did or where I went I could think of nothing else other than my sexual orientation and it got no better after I had come out to the world and in a way it’s about as understandable as my surgery obsession since there were constant reminders. Everyday there was something that brought my little gay obsession back up again in my mind. I’d pick up the paper and read a news story about a lesbian couple murdered in Southern Oregon. I’d turn on the television and be assaulted by the latest diatribe on the sin of homosexuality by a tele-evangelist. The silence from friends was a reminder.  The pained  and troubled expression on my sweet father’s face was a reminder. The search for a new church that would welcome me was a reminder. Even when I didn’t want to think about being gay, even when it got old and I just wanted to get back to life as normal, there was something or someone who was there to remind me of it all over again. Eventually though, after all the interior reconciling with myself and with God, after all the coming out and the fall out that ensued, after listening to Melissa Etheridge sing “Yes, I  Am” until my ears bled, life settled back to normal. A new normal that included the integration of my sexual orientation into every other aspect of who I am and all the changes that the awareness, acceptance, and pronouncement of my sexual orientation had brought to my life.

Later on in my conversation with the occupational therapist I related how I was getting frustrated with being so obsessed with my surgery and she responded by telling me that what what I’d been through was no small thing and she wasn’t at all surprised that I was finding it difficult to read a book or focus on writing. She explained that it was a common post-surgical experience to not be able to concentrate on other things but she assured me it would all balance out in time and I believe her. I just need time to integrate the experience of my surgery and the changes that came with it into my life.

Trust that life always comes back into balance, but until it does be patient with yourself and with the journey you’re on. Life will return to normal. A new normal. A normal of wholeness birthed by your courage and integrity and God’s grace and faithfulness.

Spread the Word!

]]> http://www.sisterfriends-together.org/my-little-gay-obsession/feed/ 18 http://www.sisterfriends-together.org/have-you-heard-the-great-news-every-day-is-full-of-trouble/ http://www.sisterfriends-together.org/have-you-heard-the-great-news-every-day-is-full-of-trouble/#comments Tue, 04 Aug 2009 01:19:22 +0000 anita http://www.sisterfriends-together.org/?p=3832

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34)

I came out to my parents as a lesbian and had them reject me 3465 times. I came out to my church and was told to repent or leave 2582 times. I was removed publicly from ministry 4395 times. 632 times my closest friends said they wanted nothing to do with me. I visited more than 568 different congregations but none of them welcomed me because I was gay.

Yes, it all happened that many times. In my head. Prior to coming out to anyone I imagined over and over again how it would be when I finally came out to my family, my friends, and my church. I’d lay in bed at night and play out one scene after another in my imagination. Every scene began the same way. I would be standing there facing someone I loved and I would haltingly say the words, “I need to tell you something. I’m gay.” And every scene had the same ending. I would lose a relationship. I would lose love and respect. I would lose my ministry. Night after night I’d lay there and play out each story line and though none of it had yet happened all the emotional turmoil I was going through was absolutely and gut-wrenchingly real. I would weep, sobbing over the loss of my parent’s love. Humiliation would sweep over me in waves as I’d think about what it would be like to be called before the church and publicly condemned for my sin.

During the day I’d go to my office at church and do the ministry I loved. Through the morning and afternoon I’d enjoy conversations with co-workers and take a phone call or two from a few friends. In the evening I’d meet my parents for dinner and while we waited for our meal to arrive they’d ask about what I was doing at church and then listen with such joy and pride it was written all over their faces. But under the darkness of night the day I’d just had would disappear and my imagination would take me to that day in the future after I had said the words and everything and everyone would be gone or lost. My stomach would be tied up in knots, and my cheeks flushed with fear. The agony I went through was almost unbearable.

All that agony and yet nothing had happened. None of it was real. None of it but the pain. The pain and the fear of future pain was as real as the cat napping on my lap at this moment, only a lot less soft and fluffy.

When i finally did come out some friendships were lost and some familiar doors of ministry did close. I couldn’t remain at the church I had loved and the initial reaction from my family was heart-breaking. For the first time in my life the relationships I most cherished felt tenuous and I had no way of knowing if they’d survive the storm that followed my coming out. Now at night when I laid there in the dark sobbing out my heart the pain I felt wasn’t in what might be but in what really was. I had feared the aftermath of coming out and now my coming out had come and gone.

That experience taught me something. When I worry then I’m living my life in a future day with events that may or may not come and not in the reality of the present day. I’m not in the day God has given me to live in. I’m not engaging in the life around me but in the life inside my head. Living life out in my head had me stuck in the traumatic moments of first coming out but my imagination never took me beyond that. My imagination could only take me as far as the pain and rejection and turmoil. It couldn’t take me further down the road after God in partnership with time returned joy to my life. My imagination lacked the creativity to see relationships that would heal and new doors of ministry that would open. My worst mental soap operas never envisioned the day my mom would write to tell me she was proud of what I was doing in ministry and happy I had found someone who loved me and who I loved. It had no problem replaying over and over how I could be removed from ministry but it could never believe for the day when I’d stand before another congregation fully as myself and break the bread and bless the cup. My imagination had foreseen the most excruciating encounters in coming out but was utterly clueless as to the countless spirit-filled moments woven into those first hours and days that were overflowing with grace, love, and affirmation. My imagination took me to the pain of rejection and loss but had no power to give me a taste of the freedom and joy that would come in walking into the wholeness of life God had for me.

I remember all this when gay men and lesbians write me with their fear of coming out and how it might be for them. In my jumbled way I try to encourage them to prepare for tomorrow, whatever the outcome, but not to worry about tomorrow because whatever happens God will be there. I tell them it will be hard. I tell them there will be pain. And I tell them they will survive. I tell them truth brings freedom and freedom brings joy. I tell them no matter how heart-wrenching others reactions might be, it can be well with their soul if they move forward with integrity and place their trust in God. “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” I say echoing Jesus’ words. “Your heavenly Father knows what you need and will provide.”

The truth of Christ’s words were burned into me through the firestorm of my own coming out and in turn I share what I’ve learned with others who find themselves facing the uncertainty of their own coming out, but then wouldn’t you know it, something else comes around the corner, looming ahead in my future and what do I do?

I worry.

I’m having surgery on Wednesday. Today is Monday and on and off throughout the day I’ve been worrying in bits and pieces about how quickly I’ll recover even before the surgeon has touched the blade to my skin. Today I’m completely pain-free and yet I’m worrying about how much pain there will be following surgery and how long it will last. I don’t have so much as a scratch on my knee and I’m worrying about how visible my scars will be. I’m anxious about waking up nauseated from the surgery. I’m obsessing about leaving the hospital the following morning and how difficult it will be to get in the car and how long the ride home will seem. Will I get sick and throw up? Ugh. I hate to throw up. I hope I don’t throw up. Oh please, keep me from throwing up.

In the passage above Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Yes. I’ll experience some physical pain following the surgery. Yes. I will have visible scarring. Yes. It’s going to take me time to recover and regain my strength. Yes. There are going to be inconveniences and frustrations and limitations. I might even throw up.

But all that will come tomorrow and worrying about it today will do nothing but increase my suffering by causing me to live in the future discomfort before it even comes. And worrying about tomorrow robs me of living in today. Today I have no pain or discomfort. Today the woman I love is sitting three feet away from me. Today one of my adorable cats is looking up at me with a “Give me treats Mom!” look in his eyes. Today there’s food on the table, a roof over my head and shoes on my feet.  Today is what God has given me and today and what it holds is all I have and all that matters. I can worry and fret and tangle my stomach up in knots over the concerns of tomorrow or I can choose to live in this very moment. Here I am. At my computer. Talking to you. Encouraging you not to worry about tomorrow. Don’t worry about what will happen when you come out to your family. Don’t worry about whether your relationship will endure the roughest storm. Don’t worry about the poor decisions your teenage son or daughter might make. Don’t suffer future loss. Tomorrow will take care of itself. God will give you tomorrow tomorrow but for now God has given you today. This is the same God, the very one, who keeps the smallest sparrow well fed; the very one who clothes the wildflowers on a remote mountain top in colors more splendid than the finest robes of the wealthiest king; the very one who holds you in the palm of His hand and will make a way for you and will provide for you and will see you through whatever tomorrow may hold.

I’ve been obese all my life. I spent my life transitioning from baby fat to chubby to overweight to obese to morbidly obese.  I only knew what it was to be the biggest kid in every class and the largest woman in every gathering. There were limitations on my life because of my weight. There were things I wanted to do that I didn’t have the physical health to do. There were places I wanted to go I couldn’t go because my physical girth made it too difficult to get there. Being big became my place in the world and while it wasn’t easy and make for some agonizing moments of humiliation, it was all I had ever known and so in the way that humans do I found a way to be comfortable in what was familiar even if at times familiar was painful, embarrassing, miserable, and inconvenient.

Over the past dozen years I’ve lost nearly 160 pounds, the last 50 since January of this year. I’m at a weight I haven’t weighed since high school when I was merely passing by that number on my way to a higher weight. My entire life I daydreamed about what it would be like to be within a normal weight range and now at the age of 52, I’m there. I’m at a place with my body and health I never dreamed was possible and now that I’ve arrived, I’m understandably thrilled and grateful, and at the same time it’s totally unnerving and just plain weird. I look in the mirror and think to myself, “That’s not me. This isn’t who I am.” When I’m standing at the store counter buying size 12 pants there’s static in my head telling me, “They’re too small for you. They don’t belong to you.” In a way that’s hard to explain I feel at times like an impostor in the world because this body I’m in isn’t the body that I’ve always known and lived inside while relating to the rest of the world. I don’t want to go back to life before my weight loss but at the same time, that life is definitely more familiar to me and this new one has me a bit rattled and unbalanced on my feet.

And I’m not the only one reeling from the changes. People who have always known me as “the big girl” are acting a little disoriented too.  I was with someone recently who has always related to me as someone much bigger than she and so throughout the day our conversation was interrupted with random comments of “I just can’t get use to you looking like that!” and “You’re nearly the same size as me!” And that’s the thing. Not only are people getting use to seeing me in a differently-sized body but the changes in my body are making them aware of their body which is why their conversation is drifting more and more frequently toward their own interest in losing weight and getting in shape.

There’s a lot of crazy thinking that goes on in the head of someone, at least this someone, after losing so much weight. I’ve gotten to know a number of former abundantly-padded people who share the same experiences and feelings and so I know I’m not the only one who goes through an adjustment period in getting the old head and heart matched up to the new body. It just takes time. It takes time to learn how to relate to the world in a different body and to get comfortable with how the world relates to you.

I imagine the same would be true for anyone going through any major life transition where they leave what’s familiar for something that’s entirely new to them. Maybe that’s part of what increases the internal tension many of us go through in coming out as queer.  We spent a good number of our days relating to the world, or at least believing we did, as straight women and men (and just imagine for a moment, if you dare, how it must be for our trans brothers and sisters!) We had our place in the world, knew how we related to the world and the world knew how to relate to us. And while we might have felt less than who we knew we really were and felt the pain of not being fully whole and fully alive, most days we were okay because at the very least the life we were living was familiar.

Coming out to ourselves changed all that. We came to see something about ourselves we’d never seen before, maybe for no other reason than we had refused to look at that part of our lives and if we had happened to catch a glance of ourselves had pretended we didn’t see what we saw. Accepting we were gay was difficult for a number of reasons including conflicts with our faith teaching, but it was also uncomfortable simply because it was “the unknown.” We knew what it was like to identify as straight because we’d done it for so long but accepting ourselves as GLBT or Q was like free-diving into whole new territory! It wasn’t familiar and so that made it uncomfortable for us in the beginning. I look in the mirror and see a normal sized person but my head is still saying “This can’t be you. You’re suppose to be bigger than this!” and in the same we might have always known deep within we were gay but our head was still saying “This can’t possibly be true. I’m suppose to be straight.”

A huge shift in self-identity and how we see ourselves in the world is always bound to come with some pretty dramatic internal upheaval, and then just for good measure, go ahead and ratchet up the intensity off the charts by notifying the world around you that a part of your identity is different than it appeared and was presumed to be. Just like people who’ve known me all my life are temporarily relating (and reacting!) differently to me as a normal-sized person, people relate (and react!) differently to us when they’re put into the position of leaving their ideas of us as a straight man or woman behind for that of a gay woman or man. We’re changing how the group (church, family, friends, society) identifies with us and anytime anything or anyone in the group changes, there’s going to be transitional chaos for everyone. Did I emphasize that last sentence enough?

It’s going to take some time for me to grow accustomed to the new reflection looking back at me in the mirror. I’m going to have to buy a few more size 12 pants before I can let go of my plus-size clothing brain. When this body becomes more familiar to me then I’ll be more at ease in it because the head will have finally gotten in sync with the body. And other people will need time too. People who have always known me as morbidly obese will need to spend more time with me in the smaller body I’m now residing in to adjust to the idea that a smaller Anita is still the same Anita. It just takes time.

If you’ve just come out to yourself or have taken the next step to come out to others, it’s a little more complicated than all that. There are all the religious and societal considerations that complicate our own internal acceptance and other people’s reactions but there’s still this one basic aspect of shifting identities underneath it all that will naturally be resolved in due time. You need to give yourself and others time to adjust to the changes. You need time to get comfortable in your own skin. As a lesbian. As a gay man. As bisexual. As a man. As a woman. And others need time and usually they need more time than we do because we have the advantage of embodying the changes 24/7 while they’re trying to make sense of it from the outside looking in.

My physicality and your sexuality might have taken on a different form but we need to remember, as they need to remember, that at our heart and soul we’re still the same as we always were, and that these shifts we’ve gone through in our self-identity will only be for the better; allowing us the freedom to be more fully who we always were but was held back from fully expressing trapped in a body or identity that never really fit us to begin with.

While Jon’s archive is filled with wonderful pieces on homosexuality and being gay, this most recent one was especially moving because while reality for most continues to fall short of Jon’s three panel sequence, we continue to hope for the day when affirming words and a gentle embrace will be the norm and not the exception. May that day come soon for every GLBTQ young person or adult who continues to linger in the closet because they fear losing relationship with those they most love.

Thank you Jon for reminding us of what should be now and what might be one day in the future if we continue to believe and pray and work for it to come to pass.

Are we on the same page now?  Fantastic! Now turning back to the email…

Anita, I realized I was a lesbian last year and have been struggling ever since with my faith. I know God still loves me but I’m having such a hard time finding any peace with the idea that it’s okay with God that I’m gay. I’m so afraid that when I tell my family they’ll reject me and my church won’t want me there anymore. Is it really alright with God for me to be in love with another woman? The reason I’m asking is because I met an amazing woman online a couple months ago and what started out as a friendship has become so much more. After exchanging emails for the few first weeks we started talking on the phone. Anita, we talk for hours at a time and I’m sure I’ve met my soul mate. I feel like I’ve always known her and we tell each other everything. I love her and she loves me. She says that she wants to be with me. If loving another woman is a sin then does that mean I have to spend the rest of my life alone? Why would God make me gay and then not let me have a relationship when that’s all I’ve ever wanted as long as I can remember? I’m so confused and would appreciate any advice you could give me.

Come Out as Gay Before Going Into a Relationship

It’s not all that unusual to fall in love with someone before going through the process of coming out to our immediate circle of family and friends. The reality is that for some of us falling in love with another woman was the very thing that led us to finally begin to come to terms with our sexual orientation. Life has repeatedly proven that we don’t always get to pick the timing of how events in our life play out but being in a relationship with another women before coming out to your family adds a complication that would seem at least worth considering.

Whether we’re coming out to our families as a single woman or as one already in relationship with another woman, coming out to our families brings a radical shift to the entire family system. It’s a weird but common principle that when there’s a dramatic change within one member of a family or any group of people, it forces everyone within that system to reconsider their own relationships and role to the other members. In a family, whether it’s ever spoken or not, every family member has a role to fulfill, a role that has been largely defined for them by the other members that they in turn live into. There’s the dependable one, the funny one, the troubled one and if we held any role in our families outside of the rebellious troublemaker chances are we no longer fit into the expectations and role we had in the family and that upsets the whole school of familial fish.  Whatever family configuration we’re talking about (with our parents, with our adult children) the family needs time to come to terms with our new identity within the family and with any other relationships and roles in the family that might have flipped in the process.

For those of you who have already come out to your families can you relate to any of this? Did you see roles change in your family? Did people relate differently to you and to each other after you came out? I’m not saying any of this is a bad thing. Some families only benefit from breaking free of their traditional roles and establishing new places within the family but whatever the end result it’s an agonizing process for the entire system and my concern is that bringing a girlfriend into the mix in the eye of the storm has the potential to increase the upheaval to the family because it doesn’t allow the established members of the family to fall back into place (or a new place) before being forced to come to terms with a stranger in their midst.

Can I raise one more thing to consider? Oh wait. This is my blog. Of course I can!

Let’s make three assumptions that I know might not apply to everyone and while I’m going to refer to parents, you could easily replace that with children, as in yours if you have any. First, your parents are strongly opposed to homosexuality for either religious or societal reasons. Second, your parents feel like they did a relatively good to great job in raising you. Third, your parents love you. And let’s make a fourth assumption I wish we didn’t have to make but one that tends to be true more often than not given that the first assumption is true; when you tell them you’re gay their first reaction isn’t to hang a rainbow flag from the front porch. However they react to the news there’s bound to be a barrel load of mixed emotions in play when the words come out of your mouth and those emotions can be so overwhelming in the moment that they’re going to be desperately searching for someplace to channel the intensity of their emotional feelings. You’re their flesh and blood, they know they didn’t raise you to be gay, and so they begin scrambling unconsciously to make sense of it by finding the reason for why the unthinkable has happened to you and in turn to the family.

Here’s what I can tell you from stories I’ve heard. Take them for what they’re worth. There are several couples I’ve known over the years who in coming out to their parents and/or adult children chose the moment of their coming out to tell their families they had met a wonderful woman who they loved and who loved them in return. This other woman brought into the initial conversation when the emotions were running full tilt then became the one who bore the blame for luring their daughter into the homosexual lifestyle or changed their mom into something they had previously been taught was sinful. No matter how much the woman in your life loves you, that’s a big target on her back to carry and it can take a long time for the arrows to be removed.

Okay, it took me five paragraphs to say this. . .Whenever we come out to anyone with whom we’re in relationship with, whether it be God, our parents, our children, or our closest friends it would seem more productive to keep the focus primarily on the relationship between you and the other person in the relationship rather than complicating it by adding another relationship into the mix. I’m not saying dump your significant other until you come out to all these people. I’m only suggesting that when coming out to each of the people in your life you share a cherished relationship with, you consider keeping the conversation on you and the other person, allowing you both to work through the love and relationship held between the two of you. Chances are the conversation dealing with your newly discovered or accepted sexual orientation provides more than enough material for everyone to work through initially and that includes you.