It’s been five years since I came out, but it feels like much more time has passed. Who I was, leading up to that moment, is a distant memory; a person I can really only remember through feeling.
Coming out began with coming out to myself. As difficult as it can be for people like me to find acceptance and community externally, the greatest challenge was and is and will always be finding that acceptance and love and communion with myself. My community is a community of deserters, of men and women and everything between/within/without, who were born with their eyes to the looking glass, and who could not reconcile what they saw and felt with what the rest of the world told them was “normal.”
Limitations and boundaries are something we create to feel secure and safe. And although there is great comfort in that security, there is no true freedom. In that freedom there is rejection, there is loss, and there are wounds that may never fully heal. But it is there that we can find and see our true selves—trust me when I say that to see oneself more clearly, even if only for a few moments at a time, is worth all of it.