Why I (FINALLY) Removed The Closet Door:"Coming Out" Pt. 3

If you've read part 1 and part 2 of this post you are now aware of the fact that I am a Lesbian.

If not, Surprise! I'm a Lesbian!

For Reelz, Y'all.

Anywho...

Now that you know, and have hopefully absorbed it and accepted it, I wanted to explain why I decided to come out this way, on the internet, rather than just come out privately to family and friends.

Before I do that, however, I want to let you know that it was both an easy and a difficult decision. I actually went back and forth about it for quite a while before I began writing that first post more than a month ago.

Originally, I dismissed the idea of posting my story. I didn't really want to make a big deal out of the fact that I chose to finally disclose the fact that I am a Lesbian, because when it comes down to it, it's really not that big of a deal, or it shouldn't be at least. 

You see, being a Lesbian is just one part of what makes me, me and I felt as though making it "official" might be sending a message that I didn't really want to send, which is that being Gay is something that I'm confessing to, as if it is wrong or something that should be kept a secret when it most certainly is not wrong, nor should it have to be kept a secret. I wouldn't write a blog post about the fact that I have some weird red freckle on my right boob, so why should I feel it necessary to come out and talk about something else about me that just happens to be a part of my DNA, like my natural hair color, or that weird red freckle?

Then, something happened to me personally that reminded me of why I did need to post my story.

Homophobia

It happened in the waiting room of my gynecologists office when I was sitting with M who I made come with me because I am a big baby and hadn't been to one in about 8 years (Disclaimer: Don't do this! It is very bad to not get your vag checked out on a regular basis!). 

Anyway, as M and I sat there and waited for my appointment (which took a really long time because my doctor had to go deliver a baby) I started noticing something peculiar happening. It was something that I may not even have noticed if it hadn't been for the fact that I had been to so many OB appointments with my husband when I was pregnant with my two kids.

We were getting stared at.

A lot.

Not cutesy little stares like the ones I would get when my husband sat in the waiting room with me all those years ago when I was pregnant with Diva and Destructo, whether I was showing or not (you know, the kind where someone looks at the cute couple, breaks out into a little half-smile, probably thinking it's cute that the boyfriend/husband chose to come along?). No, these stares were not like those kind at all. Some were actually the same kinds of stares that I see when people are fascinated by the tigers at the zoo.

Umkay, so some of these people were probably just curious. I get that. It doesn't bother me if someone does a little bit of a double take when they see M and I out in public together, because we are damn good lookin'. How can they not be jealous of our cuteness? 

Okay, because of that and also because the truth of the matter is that "we" are not the norm, so I can see how people may notice us more than they would a straight couple. It's not like I never do the same thing. For example, on the rare occasion that I go to Walmart, I often myself staring at the interesting fashion choices made by some of the other shoppers. 

Before moving on with the rest of my story, though, I do want to make it clear that we were not making some sort of Lesbian scene out of ourselves by making out, or even holding hands. We were simply leaning into each other while we talked and we only really touched when I momentarily took my feet out of my flip flops and put them on her ankle because they were freakin' freezing and I needed to warm them up (because I'm polite like that). I didn't think it was a big deal. I've seen straight couples do a hell of a lot more than that without a second look from anyone. I guess it was enough to offend a couple of people though, because their particular stares were definitely not curious. Some were even downright rude. 

Who would have thought my cute little frozen feet could be so offensive? 

Anyway, at one point, an older woman sat down across from us, looked over at both of us, and immediately looked annoyed. I figured she was probably just in a bad mood and didn't think anything of it, but then I noticed the expression on her face had changed into one of disgust. Then, after a few minutes had passed, she stood up, still staring at us, gave a huge pissed off sigh and walked around the corner to another section of the waiting room and sat down there. When we walked by her on our way to the examination room a few minutes later I caught her eye again and she gave us the same look that she had before. 

Later, I asked M if she had noticed it and she said she had. I asked her if she thought it was because the woman had realized we were a couple and if that had happened to her before and she told me, pretty nonchalantly, that things like that were a pretty common occurrence. I was not only shocked but I was also pissed. In part because it's one thing to know that hate like that exists towards others, but it's another to actually experience it yourself.

Unfortunately, what happened in the doctors office that day, hasn't been the only time we've experienced homophobia as a couple, either (aside from the fact that we can't even hold hands or hug each other in public without being stared at like we just did a triple back flip off the high dive). 

We actually experienced it again when we went up to Sundance resort last month because M somehow convinced me to risk certain death and ride some rickety chairlift to the top of some mountain, which the resort opens up specifically for people to ride every full moon during the summer and fall. It actually ended up being pretty fun (except for the few times I thought I might fall to my death).  

Apparently, though, some jerks don't understand that the point of the ride is not to be a dick by yelling out slurs (which I won't even repeat) at people that you don't even know for sure are Gay. 

Unfortunately, we happened to end up on the lift right in front of some people who must have missed that memo and they did their best to ruin my perfectly executed anxiety attack as we crept up the mountain. Luckily, we were able to laugh at how ridiculous Douche Lord's homophobia was and didn't let it end up ruining the ride for us. 

Later, while M and I were talking about the major douche lord on the chair lift and his douche bag friends who joined in, she told me she has learned to tune things like that out over the years and that it doesn't really bother her most of the time. It was then that I realized that I was going to have to learn to not let experiences like this bother me, which is not something that is easy for me to do, but I am slowly getting better at it (even though it's definitely not right for anyone, regardless of who they are, to have to deal with crap like that).

Now, I'm sure that some of you might be wondering why I would risk experiencing even more homophobia by coming out, especially on the internet where everyone can see this post. Well, I do have an answer and it's quite a simple one. It's actually because I feel like it's a way for me to show others what the consequences are when they decide act out of fear. 

Yes, fear. 

(Do you hear me, douche lord and friends?). 

That might seem weird of me to say, but think about it for a second. We, as individuals and as a society, generally fear what we do not know. Therefore, I personally feel that by coming out and showing those who know me, as well as those who don't, that I'm a real person with real feelings, that it might help some people get over their own fear, which might even end up softening some hearts a little towards me and the LGBTQ community in general. I guess I feel this way because I've experienced it for myself on several occasions when I've gotten to know people, who I prematurely judged before getting to know them. 

Okay, moving on to the other reasons why I ended up making the decision that I did:

M

When I first realized that I was definitely a Lesbian, I made one very important promise to myself, and that was that if I ever found myself in a relationship with another woman, I would not hide her, or our relationship. I knew that it would be completely disrespectful and unfair to do that to a person that I loved. 

I have to say that I really didn't think this would ever happen in a million years due to the fact that I was determined to stay closeted for my entire life and the fact that I didn't feel that I would ever meet someone who would love and accept me for who I really am.  

However, as soon as I realized that I was in love and that I was entering into a relationship, it became clear to me that I needed to begin preparing myself to "come out" and I began to do so little by little. I did so partially because I wanted to be able to share my life with M and keeping our relationship hidden wasn't the way to do that. It would be like forcing her back into the closet, which just isn't right. 

Besides she's claustrophobic so she'd probably resist, anyway.

My children

Yes, despite what some might think, I really was thinking of my children when I decided to take the closet door off. This is partially because I knew that I was a complete hypocrite. Not only that, but I was lying to them every single day. As a mother, I am continually teaching them about the importance of being honest and being true to themselves and here I was, doing the complete opposite of that. 

I think this was definitely part of the reason why it became so hard to look at myself in the mirror each day and to feel like I was doing a decent job as a mother, as well as part of the reason why I struggled so much with anxiety and depression. 

If you’ve ever struggled with depression as a parent, you understand that it can be extremely difficult to give your children what they need from you, especially emotionally, when you are depressed, which does negatively affect your relationship with them despite your best effort to not let it do so. 

I knew this was the case with me, but it really hit me when Destructo started telling everyone that all I did was spend time in my room and sleep all day (which was only partially true, but still not right). I realized then that I had to do whatever I could in order to get healthy for my children so that I could be the mom I wanted to be. This meant that I had to somehow find true happiness, which is something that I really didn't believe was possible to do. However, I had to at least try, and the only thing I hadn't tried all of these years was living honestly, so I decided to give that a try and tell my children my secret. I ended up telling Diva first and Destructo a few days later.

It was scary, but they both handled the news really well. To tell you the truth though, I was actually a lot more nervous about how others, including their friends and peers, would handle it. 

Quite frankly, it was scary as hell to think that my kids may be treated differently or teased because of my sexuality. In the end though, I realized that being honest with my children was more important. They needed a mom that they could trust and who was fully present for them, and I really wasn’t that mom until the moment I made the decision to come out.

Before I wrote the actual blog post though, I wanted to make sure that it was something that Diva would be okay with, considering half my Facebook friends are other parents and dancers at the dance studio she takes at, meaning that she sees most of them on a regular basis. Outing myself was outing her in a sense and I needed to make sure she understood what that meant and what the repercussions might be for her and our family. 

I ended up approaching her the night before I hit "publish" as she was getting ready for bed. We talked about it for quite a while and I explained that I was hesitant about publishing the post because I was still unsure of what the impact would be and how it might affect her. She surprised me a little with her response by saying that it was my decision and she was okay with whatever I decided no matter what came out of it. She also said that she thought it would be a good thing for me to share my story, especially if it helped others and that if anyone had a problem with it, she'd just "tell them to go to hell."

Isn't she just super awesome?

Other LGBTQ individuals

They say that the single important thing an LGBTQ person can do is to come out of the closet.  Not only is it considered important for our own health, but it's also important for the sake of other LGBTQ individuals, and the community as a whole. 

One of the reasons given for this, is that it is generally thought that the more people who decide to come out of the closet and live openly, the more tolerant society will become because it's much harder for those who know and love us to justify inequality and discrimination once they are aware that someone they love is negatively impacted by it. 

It also gives the community more voices, therefore more power, to change and enact legislation to provide protection and equal rights for LGBTQ individuals and families. This is very important to me because, as most of you know, I am a Social Justice nut. It's why I chose to major in Social Work and it's why I'm considering a career in Social Justice related work. I have always been passionate about equality and human rights for others. There have been many times when I felt like a hypocrite for not being open about my sexuality while I was arguing for rights for my fellow LGBTQ friends.

I remember one day as I argued about discrimination with someone, a thought hit me that ended up being yet another reason why I felt that I needed to come out. 

What kind of message was I truly sending to others like me by staying closeted? 

My answer to that went something like this:

"Hey everyone! I know I am fighting for your rights and defending our community and all, but I'm actually too good to join you in truth, so I'll just sit in my closet and pretend to be someone I'm not even though I'm telling you that you should feel safe living openly." 

Convincing, right?

Not really.

What I find to be most important about coming out though, besides the benefits to our health from living honestly as well as making a political statement in support of human rights, is that it gives others who are too afraid to come out of the closet hope and support so that they can one day be ready to do so if they desire. 

I believe that if I had known there was someone just like me who could understand what I was going through and who I could talk to when I first realized who I was, that I would have saved myself and my family much heartbreak by finding my courage much earlier.

(I probably would have done a lot less stupid things too, which would have been nice and saved me some of the money that I spent on therapy.)

So, It is because of what I experienced that I really wanted to use this blog to help others see that they are not alone in their journey. I wanted to be able help others out there who are struggling like I did for all those years, because sometimes we just need one person to tell us that we are okay and that we are not alone in all of this (I happen to have a thick skull, so I needed several more than that, I guess). Anyway, I know how deeply painful it is to feel all alone in the world because I felt that way for most of my life. It's not a pretty place to be in and it can create a lot of problems for a person. LGBTQ individuals, especially teenagers, are at a higher risk for self-harm, substance abuse, and suicide.

Suicide.

I just want to let that word sink in for a little bit. 

Can you imagine wanting to die simply because you feel as though you are not worth anything or that you are somehow defective because of who you are? That everyone would be better off without having you in their lives? I can, which is why I felt it so important to take the risk of coming out. If I can help just one person by being able to identify with them and give them hope through this blog, then this whole thing is worth it in itself, aside from all of the positive impact that it's had in my life. 

While I don't pretend to think that these blog posts actually have the power to end up saving a life or to help someone make the decision to come out just by reading them, I am hopeful that I might have the privilege of being at least one voice out of the many a person might need to help them as they travel along their own path to self-acceptance.

Although I can say that once you begin to get there, it really is a beautiful thing.

{Side note: I want to make it clear that individuals who identify as LGBTQ must be allowed to come out in their own time. It is not fair to ever force one out of the closet. There are many reasons why individuals stay closeted. In my own state, we do not have protection from housing and employment discrimination, which is a huge problem for many of us. I also live in a fairly conservative state, where there is a lot of homophobia present, another reason why someone might want to stay closeted. It is NEVER okay to try to force someone out of the closet, or "out" them to ANYONE without their permission. When I first told my husband 5 years ago that I was a Lesbian, he ended up venting to a friend and "outing" me. When we decided to get back together, it created a lot of awkwardness, which my husband did apologize for. If you know or love someone who is currently in the closet, please respect them and their choice. Instead, give them all of the love and support that you can. Let them know that they are okay and that they are loved. Give them time to find their own courage. Okie Dokie?}

Myself

This is definitely the single most important reason for my decision and, like I said above, I feel that it should be the case for all LGBTQ individuals who make the decision to come out. 

It took me over 20 years, from the time I realized that I was a Lesbian as a young teenager until the time I finally came to terms with it and realized that I was sick and tired of pretending to be someone I wasn't and that I really wasn't living my life. I was living someone else's life and that it had made me miserable for far too long.

Every single thing in my life had suffered in some way or another because of my secret. 

I had told myself far too many times that superficial crap would make me happy and it never worked. 

I had told myself far too many times that if I could "just be better" I would be happy and that hadn't worked either. 

The reality finally hit me that I really didn't have much to lose by coming out besides people who wouldn't be able to accept me for who I was, and for the first time I realized that I didn't need those people in my life to make me happy. I had to make myself happy. 

So I decided to take the chance. 

The chance that I spent so many years refusing to take. 

The chance that I never thought I would take.

The chance that would hopefully end in me finding the true happiness that I had never been able to find before. 

However, I did not get to this place of happiness alone. There were many voices and events that enabled me to get there. 

There were the voices of celebrities like Ellen Page, Portia DeRossi, and, of course, Ellen DeGeneres, as well as others who had shared their personal experiences and how their lives had changed for the better after coming out, the voice and support of my best friend who continually told me that she just wanted me to be happy, the voice of my long-time therapist who helped me explore what good could come out of living my truth, rather than what bad could happen, and the voice of another therapist who once said to me, "You can never experience true happiness when you are not living authentically." 

There was one voice in particular, though, that truly helped me find the courage that had been waiting so many years to be found, and that voice belonged to M. 

I can't really say why it was her voice that ended up finally getting through to me, but I can at least say that I realized soon after I met M that I actually liked myself whenever I was with her, which was a completely new feeling that I hadn't ever felt before. I wasn't even sure why I felt that way at first, but I eventually came to the conclusion that it was because she was somehow able to make me feel safe for the first time in my life, and in that safety, I was finally able to find me. 

The true me.

The me that I had spent so many years looking for.

The me that I had almost given up on.

And once I realized that I finally found this me that had been lost so long ago, I was able to take a deep breath and start writing.

Go here to read part 4!

Weekly Schedule Display

Believe it or not, I've been working on a couple projects. The first little project is finished and has been for a couple weeks now, I just need to find the time to write the post! It's coming though, I promise!

{"Yeah, yeah...we all know how flaky you are, Jen..."}

Anywho, the second project, a family "command center" is actually still in progress (getting organized sure requires a lot of organization). However, I thought I would give you a peek of the one part that I've actually finished, which is the weekly schedule board. I got the idea from Pinterest of course (along with all the other ideas that I'm stealing for my own command center). I thought it would be the perfect addition considering our schedules can be so crazy, especially with our...ahem...current living situation, which is a little more complicated than others and pretty much deserves its own post. 

Anyway, here it is! 

I just bought a collage frame, that had 8 individual frames in it for each day. The extra one in the upper left-hand corner is perfect for adding notes about the week's events. I used regular scrapbook paper for the backgrounds to add a little pizzazz. It's easy to change out with the seasons or holidays if you like that sort of thing, which obviously I do considering it's obviously got a bit of Halloween spirit goin' on! 

So much cuter than a boring old white dry-erase board, don't you think? 

(PS: it's also a great way to keep the kids less confused about which parent has them on what day, which is something we are just getting used to in our house.) 

I can't wait to see it up on the wall with the rest of the command center (if I ever get around to finishing it.)

Removing the Closet Door: "Coming Out" Pt. 2

 If I had only known...

In my last post, I shared a big secret that I'd been keeping for approximately 20 years. If you haven't read it, you can go here to do so. It was pretty much the most important post that I've ever written and I still don't fully know the effects of it. Whatever they are though, I'm glad that I finally had the courage to do it.

I'm sure that those of you who read it probably have a lot of questions, especially those of you who are friends and family members of mine. I will attempt to address some of them in this particular post.

First, I want to say that I was born this way. I did not choose to be a Lesbian. I think it's very important that I say this because, eventually, if we repeat it enough, us Gays (and our allies) might get it through some of your straight heads that we are human beings just like everyone else, we can't change our "gayness" any more than a straight person can't change their "straightness". We can hide it, just like you can hide it (which is, of course, what I did for waayyy too long.), but that can make for a pretty difficult life. Mmmkay?

All right. Moving on...

I don't remember much of my early childhood, which I guess isn't very common. I do remember being 8 and realizing that I was different than others, even though I didn't know how I was different than them. I just never quite felt like I fit in. When I was in 5th grade, I remember trying to hold my friend's hand and her getting really embarrassed because, as she put it, "girls weren't supposed to do that anymore" as she let go.

It wasn't until I was 13 or 14 though, that I knew for sure that I was Gay, when a little light bulb went off in my head after I got a crush on one of my female teachers at school. It was around that time that I also realized that I had never really noticed boys in the same way that I noticed girls, and I never really had the same feelings for them that other girls seemed to have. I was pretty ambivalent, actually. The only thing I did know was that I could never, ever tell anyone about what I'd discovered about myself. I saw how much kids made fun of other kids who they just suspected were Gay and I was NOT going to be one of those kids!

It was then that I started my acting career. I played the straight, boy crazy, teenage girl and made sure that everyone "knew" that I liked boys and not girls. In order to "prove" this, I even became a little promiscuous with a couple of them, even though I remember laying there during sex feeling absolutely nothing, aside from some chafing.

I  did have one boyfriend in high school, who I didn't sleep with, probably because he was also Gay (He ended up coming out a few months after we broke up). We were still really good friends, though and we even went to our Senior Ball together. The day of the dance, we went to an amusement park with a group of other kids. While we were there, I finally got up the guts to tell him my little secret. I knew of all people he would understand and be there for me.

I remember getting really shaky as I brought it up to him.

I think it went kinda like this:

"Hey, Matt?...Ummm....How did you realize that you liked guys?...Ummm....because....I ....think. Well, I think I might like girls."

He replied with a little smile, while he grabbed my hand and winked at me. "Oh, don't worry! Everybody has a little Gay in them. You're just fine."

(Matt, you and I need to have a serious talk...)

Well, that was a relief! I wasn't a Lesbian after all, I was just like everybody else! Phew!

Only I was. I just didn't want to be. Deep down, I knew this.

I was already so insecure about so many other things. Being Gay was just one more thing about me that was "wrong" and I just couldn't deal with it. I had grown up in a Mormon community where little girls were supposed to grow up, find a man, get married, and have babies and even though I stopped going to church when I was 16,  I had spent years in Sunday school being taught that it was the right thing to do.

So that's what I did.

I met a wonderful guy, and as weird as it seems, I did really fall in love with him. He was kind and loving and he treated me well. Nobody else had ever made me feel special like he did. He really was an amazing guy. I don't think I consciously tried to forget who I really was, but I think I let my desire for being "normal", which to me, meant getting married and living happily ever after, take over.

He asked me to marry him when I was still 18. We married when I was 19 and by 20, I was a mom. I became a mom again at 26 with our second child.

Looking back, I realize now that I never had time to really figure out who I was and come to terms with it. I was too busy trying to do everything possible to cover it up, and making sure my life moved forward at 90 miles an hour was my way of doing that.

Every once in a while, I would realize that my attraction to women wasn't just a curiosity, but the thought of giving up a life that I had purposely and carefully manufactured was too terrifying, so I continued to pretend to be someone I wasn't, which ended up causing a lot of pain in my life. However, I would never regret getting married or having my children. Without them, I would have been even more lost. Yes, living a manufactured life was extremely difficult and painful, but it also taught me a lot of lessons along the way and I really do feel that it was the path that I was meant to take.

Anyway, after 15 years of hiding who I was, I finally told my therapist in 2009. We discussed it for almost a year before I finally had the courage to tell my husband. At first my husband and I were optimistic. We read about other couples like us and how they dealt with what's called a "Mixed Orientation Marriage". Some opened up their marriages and just lived together like roommates. Some remained intimate, but the Gay spouse dated outside the marriage. Some stayed monogamous without any changes. We discussed all of these possibilities and also decided to try counseling, but our counselor was not a good one. She was not helpful in any way and we left our sessions more confused than we were when we went in. Not wanting to put our kids through a divorce, and not wanting to cause more pain for either one of us, we chose to stay monogamous. A few months later though, he told me he just couldn't do it anymore, and we decided to separate in early 2011.

The separation was hard on both of us. We had been together for so many years and now we had to learn to be alone. We moved into the same apartment complex, but into different apartments thinking that it would be best for the kids, but it only made things worse by blurring the lines. He didn't seem to be able to know how to give me my own space and independence and I didn't seem to know how to set those boundaries. I think it also made it harder for the kids because they didn't have a routine and they didn't understand why dad could come over and watch movies with mom one night, but that he would eventually have to go home.

While we were separated, my husband didn't date and I only dated one or two people. After several months of both of us being unhappy, we decided during Christmas break, that we would move back in with each other for our children. I guess we figured that if we weren't any happier apart from each other, we may as well be together for our kids. Besides that, we were still really good friends, so why not give it the old college try?

In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing to do...

However, moving back in together did mean that I could continue to keep hiding my secret from everyone I knew, with the exception of my best friend and one other friend that I had told. As far as everyone else was concerned, I was "Holly Housewife" and I wanted to keep it that way. There were times when I would think about telling my dad, or my other family members, but I was always able to stop myself just in time. I guess I just wasn't ready.

Things went pretty well for us after we got back together and we generally got long pretty well, too. We thought we were doing so well, in fact, that last year we decided to build a new home for our family because we wanted to give our children the stability that we felt they needed after moving around so much.

Again, that wasn't the smartest thing to do, but we thought it was the right thing to do.

I started having panic attacks shortly after our money became non-refundable. I knew in my heart that I was making a mistake, but my heart ended up being overridden by my desire to give my children a stable, normal, happy childhood, unlike the one that I had. I mistakenly thought that by being my true self, I would be doing a disservice to them. Let me unequivocally state right now that if you are a parent, you are doing a disservice to your children by NOT being your true self. I know that in my case, I had a harder time being the kind of mom they needed because I was too scared to be myself first, and a mom second.

I did tell my husband about half way through construction that I really didn't think I could promise him any type of future. I knew deep down that I was starting to get tired of being someone who I wasn't. In what he now admits was denial, he took my hand and kissed it and said we would be okay. I repeated myself again and still he assured me it would be okay.

But it wasn't okay, obviously.

Shortly before the house was finished, I approached him again and said that I wanted him to think about living in separate bedrooms. We weren't the happily married couple that we were trying to be and I wasn't the straight Susie Homemaker that I was trying to be. It had become extremely difficult to sleep next to him every night, knowing that I could never give the kind of love that he deserved, more so knowing that I could never give him a part of myself that every person should be able to give to the person they love. Often times, I would lay next to him at night, staring at him while he was sleeping, with tears rolling down my cheeks. I would wish and wish that I could be the wife that he deserved, but I knew that there was no fairy godmother out there to grant that wish.

I knew that this role that I was playing, that I had played for so long, was about to end, but I was terrified of what my life would look like without the security of that role. I had grown so comfortable with living my lies that I couldn't even wrap my head around the idea of living my truth. My lies were predictable and safe. My truth was not.

However, the lies were really becoming to difficult to live with. I often slept until 2 or 3 in the afternoon, just so that I didn't have to face the day. I started to avoid my husband because of the pain I felt when I looked at him. I started to withdraw from my family, my friends, and even my children. It was becoming more and more difficult to say why mommy wasn't feeling well today, when mommy didn't feel well yesterday either. Sometimes I would even wish while I was falling asleep at night, that I wouldn't ever have to wake up again. It was starting to get pretty scary in my head and I was starting to feel myself sink even deeper into depression.

Then one day, as I laid in bed counting the hours away, it hit me. I was going to have to make a choice. I could live as the person that I truly am and always was, or I could live as the person who I wanted everyone to think I was. The latter hadn't been working out for me for quite a long time. So, for the first time in my life, I chose to start working on the former.

One night, as we sat watching T.V., I  finally told my husband about everything that I was going through and we started talking. We talked all night long. It was a very deep conversation, maybe the deepest we've ever had, and it opened up the gates for some other really deep conversations between the two of us. It was after several of those conversations that we decided the best thing to do was to start sleeping in separate bedrooms, and prepare for separate lives. We realized that we both needed to be happy one day and that it was never going to happen if we continued to pretend like we were something that we weren't.

A lot has happened since then.

My husband and I have continued to sleep in separate bedrooms and we no longer live as a husband and wife. Basically, we are roommates. Our plan is to try to keep this home for our children if it's at all possible and we are in the process of figuring everything out when it comes to that and other things. At this point, we wouldn't be able to sell it anyway because we are bound by our HOA agreement which states that we cannot sell it for a predetermined amount of time. I think this is probably the part that is hardest for people to understand about our situation, but it is working for us. In our minds, we are separated and will eventually be divorced. The fact that we live in the same house doesn't change that for us. We have separate finances and separate social lives, and yes, separate dating lives.

We sat down with Diva a few weeks ago and I told her the truth with my husband sitting next to me for support. I could not have asked for a better response from her. She has been amazing. She told me right away that I was still her mom and she still loved me no matter what, Gay or straight. She has continued to be supportive. I have to say it makes me pretty proud that I've raised such a loving and accepting child. Her support means everything to me.

I also told my dad, brother, and sister the truth,which is something I never thought I would be able to do. Unfortunately, I don't exactly have an adorable YouTube video to show you with everybody cheering and clapping their hands, but I'm hoping they will come around.

I've also told some more of my friends and have found a lot of support there, so far. However, I'm still well aware that not everyone will be supportive and that not everyone will want to remain in my life.

Speaking of dating...

I'm actually in a relationship with an amazing person, who I will call M. She makes me very happy and I hope I make her happy too. My husband has met her and they get along pretty well, even though I know it's not easy for him. My children have also met her and they both like her. Diva and M love to joke around together and are always sending funny little texts to each other. In fact, M is actually one of the reasons why I decided it was time to come out, though she has never pressured me to do so. I love her and I'm proud to have her in my life. That's not something that should be hidden. The one promise I made to myself during all those years that I was too scared to tell people who I was, was that if I ever did meet someone I would never hide them. I just don't feel like it's right to hide the person that you love.

(Okay, maybe if they're really ugly....)

Anywhooo....You might still be wondering why I, not only made the decision to come out, but why I also decided to share such a personal story with you. Lucky for you, I'm planning on explaining all of this in my next post.

For now, I'm just hoping that this particular post helped you understand even more about me and my journey. Maybe it will help some of you out there who are Gay see that there is one more person in the world who knows what it's like to go through what you are going through. Maybe it will help some of you who are straight, but who have friends or relatives who are Gay, understand a little bit more about what it can be like for us prior to the moment that we tell you that we are Gay.

If you'd like to know more about my journey, you can go move on to part 3 in order to find out why I decided to share my story.

Love,

Jen

It's Time to Remove My Closet Door: "Coming Out" Pt.1

We all have secrets we keep.

Some are pretty small and innocuous, causing no harm and we may even forget we kept them.

Some of them are quite the opposite though, and these are the secrets that often cause the greatest harm to both the secret keeper and to those who the secret is kept from.

Those of us that carry the burden of these types of secrets eventually learn to live with them as a constant companion, along with the guilt and shame that often accompanies them. They weigh heavily on us, but we still do everything we can to try to protect them. For some reason, we feel that the outcome from sharing these deep, dark secrets will be far worse than the pain that we feel from keeping them. The pain, however, is relentless. It never dissipates and it never goes away no matter how hard we try to ignore it. In fact, the opposite happens. It continues to get worse. We suffer and our relationships suffer. However, we still remain silent. Nothing, we tell ourselves, is worth the cost of sharing our secret, so we lie instead.

We lie to our friends. We lie to our family. Most of all, we lie to ourselves.

We become excellent actors and actresses that continually deliver Oscar winning performances every single minute of every single day.

We manufacture incredible facades that even we can become fooled by.

We do everything possible to make our horrible secret go away.

and still, it refuses to leave.

(In fact, it raises the finger at us.)

I happen to know a lot about secrets like the ones that I am describing, because for the last 20 or so years, I've been carrying the burden of hiding my own deep, dark secret and in doing so, I've watched myself  lie to everyone I love, terrified that I would be hated by them if I dared tell them the truth. I've watched my relationships suffer because of these lies, I've watched myself become deeply depressed because of my inability to make my secret go away no matter how hard I wished it to and I've also watched myself do some pretty self-destructive things as a result.

My particular secret nearly killed me.

More than once.

However, none of the actions and consequences above were ever enough to get me stop hiding, so instead I  stood and cheered for those who proudly stand up for their rights, while staying silent about how those rights pertained to me. I watched others bravely tell their truth, while hiding mine. I taught my children the importance of not being afraid to be who they are, while being terrified of who I am, and I argued passionately for equality and compassion, while refusing to share my reasons for being so passionate.

Why?

Because, of fear.

Fear of what people would think.

Fear of what people would say.

Fear of what people would do.

Fear of what my life would look like if I were to tell people the truth.

I cannot begin to tell you what a toll it takes on someone who lives in a constant state of fear, but I will tell you as someone who has lived in that state for the majority of my life that it's absolutely exhausting and eventually you realize your either going to die in that state, without ever fully enjoying your life or you're going to have to get tired of living that way and then do something about it.

Luckily, I got tired.

I got tired of being scared.

I got tired of lying.

I got tired of being someone I wasn't.

Most of all, I got tired of keeping a secret that nobody should feel like they have to keep.

So after several years of therapy along with the support of the very few people on this entire earth who knew my secret, I  finally decided to stop hiding and masquerading as someone else, and to start living my life instead of the one that I manufactured. I decided that I was going to live as the real me. Not the me that I had created.

The real me is a 34 year old, Stay-At-Home mom of two living somewhere in Salt Lake City, Utah. I'm also a college student majoring in Social Work. I live in a cute little house with a picket fence, and drive a 2005 Honda Pilot with 160,000 miles on it. I recycle religiously and feel terribly guilty when I don't. I spend way too many hours driving kids to and from lessons, helping with last minute school projects, and nagging them to brush their teeth. When I have the time, I like to play with my makeup collection or work on various home decor projects. I love cupcakes, Diet Coke, the color pink, and social documentaries. One of my greatest dreams is to see the Eiffel Tower and if I could live anywhere, it would be on a beach, preferably a tropical one. I enjoy quoting lines from several of my favorite movies, including, Wayne's World, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Empire Records, and Dumb and Dumber. I wear yoga pants just to make people think that I give a crap about physical fitness and my lucky number is 5. I'm also a lesbian.

There you have it.

My secret, the one that I've been carrying around for the majority of my life, is now no longer a secret, and unless you think yoga pants are something that a person should be ashamed of,  you probably guessed correctly by assuming that it is the last sentence in the above paragraph, the one that contained just four little words (Well, five if you count "I'm" as "I am"), as that secret.

I'll let you have a minute to let that sink in, in case you need it.

In the meantime, here's a visual aid for those of you who learn better that way.

I guess this means that I'm officially "out" now.

All it took was 20 plus years of hell and the four cupcakes I ate while writing this post.

{I guess that means that, in addition to being a Lesbian, I'm also procrastinator and a stress eater.}

The important thing though, aside from the fact that I obviously need a cupcake intervention, is that the hell that comes with living a false life is finally over. I no longer have to live with the weight of  that huge secret on my shoulders. I no longer have to live with the fear of someone figuring it out, and I no longer have to live with it haunting me no matter how hard I tried to ignore that it existed.

I can finally live a real life now, rather than the one that I created out of fear and I can finally live this real life as who I really am, rather than as a character that I created.

I can live. I mean, really live, which is something that I honestly never thought would happen. It certainly wasn't easy. In fact, my journey to this new place is definitely the hardest one that I have ever taken in my life. As a matter of fact, It took years to get here. Years of living in denial and trying to convince myself that I could live as someone who I wasn't. Years of feeling like a hypocrite because I could accept, love, and fight for the rights of others like me, but just couldn't seem to accept, love, and fight for myself.Years of pretending. Years of lying. and years of fear.

But, I finally did it.

I finally got to a place where I could look at my reflection in the mirror and have one less reason to hate myself.

I finally got to a place where I could look another LGBTQ person like me in the eye and not feel the guilt associated with being a coward and a hypocrite.

I finally got to a place where I can handle the loss of family and friends because they are unable to accept me due to the fact that I'm a Lesbian.

I finally got to a place where I can handle being judged, treated differently, and even hated for who I am (even though it still pisses me off).

I finally got to a place where I can say the words, "I'm Gay" out loud so that others can hear it, instead of just whispering them silently to myself, hoping nobody would ever figure my secret out.

I finally got to a place where I can be me.

And that's a good place to be.

I have to say that it's also a much better place than the one where I was all those years ago when I realized that I wasn't like the other girls I knew who would argue over who was cuter on Saved by the Bell, Zach or Slater, while I sat quietly next to them paying far more attention to Kelly Kapowski, but not really understanding why, and it sure as hell is a much better place than the one that I was in for a couple decades after I realized that I was different than those other girls, but refused to move from because I was too scared of what people would think or say.

So, I think I'll stay here in this groovy little place a while and enjoy it, if you don't mind. Actually, I think I'll stay here even if you do mind, so mind or don't mind. That's completely up to you.

In either case, I'm still the same person I was before you read this post. I haven't changed at all during the time that it has taken you to read it. The only thing that's changed is that you now know about a part of me that you didn't know about before you started reading and now that you know about that part of me, you get to choose what to think about me from here on out. I hope that you will still accept me, but even if you don't, I'll be okay.

I'll live.

I've lived through much worse.

Love,

Jen

P.S. - Obviously, there is much more to the journey that I've taken to get to where I am now, and I'm sure that some of you would like to know more about it, what my current situation is, and why I finally decided to come out. I apologize that I didn't include it in this post, but I will be posting more about it all very soon. I promise.

P.P.S. - Sincere apologies to any of you who feel misled because you were expecting a blog post about my real closet door.

(Update: You can read part 2 by going here )

From Dresser to T.V. Console

Remember back when I posted my very first furniture project. It was a bedroom set makeover, and the catalyst that sent me from buying new matchy-matchy furniture into finding furniture that just needed a little lovin' and "elbow grease" (which is a term that has always sounded gross and unsanitary to me.) to look pretty again.

Anyway, that bedroom set had a good life after I made it over, but eventually I started making changes. The first change had to do with the mirrors, which I made into part of that Christmas wall gallery. After Christmas was over, I decided to transform them back into mirrors and use them for the mirrors on my makeup vanity and they are now living happily ever after on top of the vanity. I sold the nightstands because they were too low for the new mattress set we bought last year. I did keep the armoire for our bedroom TV and have so far left it alone, but as far as the dresser goes, I ended up deciding not to put it in our new bedroom. The space would have been too crowded between it and my vanity, so we moved it to our basement where it sat untouched for several months until I decided it would make a great TV console. Not a super unique idea, but I wanted something to fit our board games, along with space for the miscellaneous crap I hide when it's time to clean up for company, and I had already sold our existing entertainment armoire so we were using a shoe rack from Ikea as a replacement.

After I decided what I wanted to do with it, I got to work (after much procrastinating). Since I like that "eclecta-cottage" look (a term that I should really trademark...), I decided to chalk paint it and distress it, because what's more awesome than making pieces of furniture look like they have been through a war? I chose the same color as my dining table, Sherwin Williams, "Watery"

Here's some before shots, which you probably remember...

before makeover #1

before makeover #2

The first thing I did, of course, was paint it using the chalk paint. After I did that, I used an orbital sander to distress it so that the previous paint color would show through (Actually, I planned to sand the original paint off and then paint the areas I wanted to distress black, so that color would show through when I distressed it, but I was too lazy.) I had never used an electric sander before, but it turned out to be quite fun, so much fun that I got a little carried away on a few areas...

As you can see, I stayed with the original hardware, which I decided to spray paint flat white, to give it the "lighter-fresher" look that I'm going for in the house. Originally, I didn't think to distress the pulls, but I did drop a few of them so they kind of distressed themselves and it ended up working out.

Then, it was time to make a shelf for the electronics to sit on. At first, I wanted to take just the center drawer out, but the DVD player wouldn't quite fit, so I decided to take the other two top drawers out.Then, I took out the little drawer glide thingy's and sat some spare particle board on top so I could put all of the electronics on those. After the shelf was in, the mister used some weird attachment on his drill that looked like a big circle, cookie cutter, thingy to drill the holes in the back for the cords. He was just about finished when our drill started smoking before meeting it's demise, so he had to punch out the rest of the hole by hand.

probably should have had him drill those holes before I painted it to avoid the extra distressing...

I did plan on adding some whitewashing and a little bit of glaze, but I got too impatient so I didn't. I didn't put a protector on it either, which I may, or may not, regret some day. However, I think it works for now and I'm pretty okay with how it turned out (even though I need to fix it so the ugly cords don't piss me off every time I look at them).

So there you have it.

One Post, Two Little Projects.

While I've been busy with dance competition season (which, thankfully, is almost over), swimming and gymnastics lessons, trying to get us settled into the new house (I'll post a few pictures, soon.),and working on getting all the paperwork ready for my trip to Africa, I've completely forgotten that I also needed to post about a couple of my recent projects! Don't hold your breath because they aren't all that awesome, but they do include dressing up one of Diva's bookshelves, a second redo of the kitchen table that I refinished quite a while ago, re-purposing my old dresser, and making a totally cool headboard (okay, the last two aren't finished yet, but I am hoping to get the dresser done this week and the headboard done before the year is over).

If you follow me on Instagram, you've probably already seen the pictures, but since I know there are people who still aren't on Instagram (cough, cough...my sister), I'll go ahead and post them here to give you all a little break from all of the posting that I will be doing about my journey to Africa.

Project #1 is hardly worth mentioning and I think we've all seen it a million times on Pinterest so I'm not even going to watermark it, but since it technically does qualify as a restyle, I'll post it anyway.

I simply took Diva's boring white bookcase and added a little shelf paper that I got from Target to the back to give it a little something extra. It was very quick and really easy, though I do advise having a credit card with you to smooth out any bubbles and also that you take a deep breath when the pattern doesn't line up perfectly between the two, or more sections you have to use to cover the back.

I didn't take a "before" picture, but I'm sure you can picture the white back that it used to have.

Project #2 was a quick restyle of the kitchen table that I had previously redone clear back in 2012. When I say quick, I mean it. I literally did it in two days, just a few days before we moved into the new house. I didn't really plan on it until I realized that the extra paint I had left over from painting the dresser (which was also painted in the same time frame) would would also look cute on the kitchen table and because I had already decided that I needed to replace two of the chairs, one due to the Tyrannosaurus Rex incident the week that I finished the table the first time and one because I just couldn't find any chairs that would work with it (Surprisingly enough, it's hard to pull off mismatched chairs!), I figured I may as well give the table a new look, too. So I slapped some paint on there, decided it looked pretty good, and kept going. I also put about five coats of polycrylic on it to try to protect it from the ridiculous amount of wear and tear my family puts on furniture.

Here's what it looked like after the first time I redid it:

and here's what it looks like now:

The ladder back chairs were already white, so I didn't need to do anything to them, but the other two chairs are"new" ones that I found via Facebook. They are actually the very chairs that inspired me to go to Africa. They were originally a dark aqua blue, which didn't look quite right with the table, so I decided to paint them white. Only this time, I had a friend of my sisters paint them because I needed them sprayed to match the other ones, and there was no way I was going to spray in my new garage!


For the table, I used the chalk paint recipe that I always use mixed with Sherwin Williams "Watery", which is a great soft blue from their coastal collection and goes with the whole cottage-like atmosphere that I'm trying to create.

It's Been 5 Months and...It Still Hurts.

Wow! Has it really been that long since I last posted?
  
{Don't you love how I say this every time I get back from a break, like it's a surprise or something?}

It's been over 5 months now since we all said goodbye to Harley and it still really hurts. In fact, I still cry almost every day and the last few moments I spent with her, as well as the psychotic breakdown I had after she took her last breath, still play over and over in my mind on a loop.

I still forget that dropped food on the floor won't be quickly whisked away by her, that she'll never again open the bathroom door with her nose while I'm in the middle of peeing, jump on the bed to sleep right next to me during a nap,or protectively growl at men that pass me by while I am running.

It's enough to make me crawl into bed and never want to come back out.

However, I do find myself smiling or even  laughing out loud when a funny memory of her decides to pay me a visit.

(like the time she got out of the backyard, trotted down the street, wandered into the backyard of a neighbor and then walked through a door that they had left cracked open before making herself right at home by jumping up on the couch in their living room in order to take a quick snooze. Luckily, they were dog people) 

I also find myself dreaming about her occasionally and even though it can be hard to wake up and realize that she isn't at the foot of the bed anymore,  it's also strangely comforting.

I guess that's what coping looks like, and maybe it's healthy. However, I'm pretty sure that my weird obsession with posting old photos and videos of her and us on Facebook constantly isn't and I'm also pretty sure that some of my Facebook friends are ready to hit "unfriend" if they see one more depressing post about my dead dog.

Mitch and the kids started begging for another dog, pretty soon after she died. Thus far, I've refused their constant requests for one. Most likely due to the fear of going through this pain, that I was completely unprepared for, again. It also feels wrong to "replace" her so soon. I'm certain there's a specific rule on how long you should wait, but I haven't found it yet. I am also worried that I would compare the new dog to her, or not treat it as well as I treated her.

As hard as I try though, I can't deny that a big part of does actually want a dog again and wouldn't be horribly upset if I found one on the porch someday. I just don't really want that "someday" to be tomorrow. I'm not ready yet.