I'm From Driftwood

by Carlos M. Gonzalez

When I was growing up in Puerto Rico, I knew I was different. Very young I would shyly look at the guys and admire their looks, their bodies, the way they dressed. It’s funny, when my dad would go to the bank and make his transactions, I would stay in the car and every guy that walked by would get a score of 0 to 10 from me. I grew up knowing I liked guys, but I had to keep it to myself. Everybody would ask if I had a girlfriend and I would say I am too busy for that. I focused my attention and time on the books, getting a good GPA and playing basketball at a court a few blocks away.

When I was thirteen I had my first experience with a boy. I was young, he was young (12) and lived down the street from me. I was so scared of being caught in my own house when my parents came back from work. They were school teachers and usually and predictably arrived home together at about the same time. But no “bust” ever happened because I was careful enough. I couldn’t tell my family about my feelings because they were semi-strict Catholics and we went to mass on Sundays. I just wished they didn’t worry so much about everyone else’s opinion. That’s why I like the saying “live and let live.” In Spanish it goes like this: “Vive tu vida y no la mia!” At 15, I had my second experience with a nephew of another neighbor. He was 17. I enjoyed it, but always felt guilty because of my religious upbringing.

So basically I spent a lot of time in the closet–not a good place to be, but a necessary refuge for a gay man to be until the time is right. I tried reading the bible and praying, and shed endless tears so many, countless times. Occasionally, I fell on my knees and asked God to let me be like everybody else and the way society expected me to be. This went on for years until I was 32. Can you believe I never had intimacy with another person in my 20s? I was so bogged down by my conflict. I knew I liked guys, but I was a prisoner in my own imaginary cell.

When I was 32, a dear friend of mine died. She was only 30 and had a beautiful 3-year-old child. That happened on Dec 20, 1996, and I questioned God a lot. I started leaning more towards reason than blind faith. How could someone so nice, young, beautiful and loving to her son be taken from this earth? Now I finally applied this new-found rebelliousness into my life. What if I die soon and never experience love in this world? I don’t want to go down like that, sad and lonely. I don’t know how much time I have left and need to live life to its fullest potential. This “closet thing,” this “shame thing” is holding me back; it is tearing me apart. I realized I am not being honest with myself!

I decided to go out to a gay bar two weeks later on January 5, 1997. It was in front of the Atlantic Ocean in San Juan and I felt nervous at first, then liberated, and then finally true to myself. I was finally out: accepted, welcome, comfortable. I finally can say I am gay and feel pride in myself. Not an easy choice, since society has so much prejudice. But who’s to cast stones at you, when their own roofs are made of glass? Who’s to judge you and point out the stick in your eye, when they have a log lodged in theirs? I told myself that if I was going to burn in hell, according to religious fanatics, I would rather burn for being gay than for being a hypocrite. Since God is good and loving and omniscient, He/She/It always knows what my true, inner feelings and desires really are.

Since then I have suffered sporadic discrimination at work. I suffered rejection by some closed-minded people, but I remind myself to focus on the good people with caring and accepting hearts. My relationship with my dad was not that great to begin with and then it got a little bumpier. For some strange, unexplainable reason I think it hurts his personal version of “machismo.” But I have to think of my own happiness, not in trying to please him by sacrificing who I truly am. I like to say my manhood or manliness is not waist-high, it resides tall and strong in my heart and mind.

Change is real and is out there. I’ve seen plenty of it. Now a lot of teenagers can come out to their families, especially to their mothers. But the timing of coming out is very tricky and significant. When someone young lives at home and depends on other people, their livelihood cannot be risked. That special event, the bondage-breaking, the emancipation from shame has to occur with minimal damage on the welfare of that young person. My mother loves me to death; I am her only child. She worries mostly because being gay is a hard lifestyle and there’s discrimination out there. Of course she doesn’t want me suffering. But I know life isn’t perfect and I remind her that there’s more happiness to be found in me being free and genuine despite the intolerance by some in our society.

I see even more positive changes; other relatives being curious and asking respectful questions. How do I know? When? Who do I like? You have to love it when people that are conservative turn the corner and start embracing you because they know deep within that love is the only way we can get along and that being gay is not what defines a person. I am gay and that’s my sexual orientation, but I am more than that. I am Carlos and I am a law-abiding citizen, a professional, a neighbor, a loving person; just another human being on the face of this crowded earth trying to live peacefully and in harmony with others, regardless of our tiny, irrelevant differences.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Rick Clemons

It all started as I kicked out of the womb. No, I didn’t have an epiphany as I ventured down the birth canal. And it wasn’t some stress of being birthed that caused me to be gay. In reality, it was the venturing into the world that launched me into the yet uncharted territory of finding my true self.

Beyond the crib and potty training I embarked into the typical yet atypical life of a young boy. Riding bikes, playing Indians and Cowboys, watching Gilligan’s Island. On the other side of me I was fascinated with art, envisioned myself dancing on stage, and was a veritable fountain of emotions beyond what a “normal” young man should have.

In high school, the yearnings and stirrings led me to tip toe into relationships with girls, enjoying the kissing, heavy petting, and wonderment of what was happening between my legs, yet still not feeling like I was an active participant in the experience. Of course, like most gay men (if they would be honest), I had numerous unconscious crushes on my best friend, the gym teacher, and other guys that I found myself purposefully working my way into any activity that would just get me close to them. However, it was all very unconsciously conscious in retrospect.

In 1982 I was away at college and had 1) been sneaking off campus to take dance classes, 2) cruising around town, finding the few gay bars that existed, yet, never having the nerve to go in, 3) found myself being more and more bold with guys I perceived to be gay in my dorm…yet still not acting on my urges. All of this collided with a phone call home to Mom and Dad in which I announced “I’m Gay!” Not realizing how that conversation would change my life and save my life, I now see clearly that I may have been gay, but wasn’t truly ready to be gay. So back in the closet I went after some therapy and because, quite honestly, it wasn’t my time to be myself.

In 1986, after landing my first job out of college, I met a kindred spirit. This spirit just happened to be a woman. Joy of joys, I wasn’t gay after all. But who was I kidding. Yes we connected – intellectually, energetically, likes, dislikes, etc. I was able to be sexual with her without a lot of effort and before I knew it Mom and Dad were proudly standing for family wedding photos with their son who was no longer gay. Or so it seemed.

The years progressed and the epitome of married with kids prevailed. Nice home, world travel, successful careers, two beautiful daughters, good friends, ample money, yet below the layers of fat (close to 300 pounds on my 6’5” frame) I was miserable and life consisted of drinking, eating, keeping peace at home and sneaking around looking at gay porn and being a cheat. Yes, I admit I was a cheater. Not proud of it and making no excuses. Yet, I don’t believe that “once a cheater always a cheater.” Why? Because when you find yourself and you live your truth, “What is there to hide?” Nothing!

In 2002 on a trip to London, I found myself in the arms of a beautiful Brit, in his hotel room and for the first time I knew what being gay could truly be. We didn’t have sex, we had deep conversation and real intimacy…not sex. This really threw me for a loop! What was this I was feeling? How could this be happening? Who was I becoming? Two days later and a 12-hour flight back to the States I had answered all those questions and was ready to face my truth. A truth that there was no turning back from, or going back into the closet for, ever again.

I had seen what intimacy, passion, communication, and non-sexual life could be like with a man. Even weighing in at close to 300 pounds, this beautiful man had found me attractive, wanted me, and saw in me something that until that moment I hadn’t even seen in myself – a real man, a gay man, who needed to love himself and start living his truth. At that moment, the weight began to drop off of me, figuratively and literally.

Upon arrival at home, I summoned up every bit of courage I had and said, “Frankly my dear, I’m gay!” I’m not going to sugarcoat the rest of the story and say it was a fabulous celebration and we lived happily ever after. However, what I will share is, we (my ex-wife, my two beautiful daughters, my partner, and I) became the Modern Family before it was ever a hit TV sitcom. Did it happen overnight? Hell no. Was it easy? Hell no. Did it take work, compassion, give and take? Hell yes.

Is our story a fairy tale? To some it does seem that way. But in reality, when someone comes out of the closet, the first place to start with acceptance is within themselves. You’ve got to be 100% in you, your mind, your heart, and your body as an LGBT individual before you can expect anyone else to love you and accept you. Secondly, just because you’ve been preparing for this for 18, 25, 32, 38, 54 years – whatever your age when you come out – doesn’t mean all the rest of your peeps have had that same opportunity. It’s a bitch slap upside the head for most people when they hear the words, “I’m gay.” At that moment you have to realize you’ve just come out, but they may have just gone in the closet.

I have a theory, and maybe it’s because of the work I do as a coach working with all individuals through the “coming out journey,” that the more room we make for everyone to be in the journey in their way, the sooner we can all continue to live the journey of our lives exactly as we are intended.

Today, I am blessed. Blessed with a loving ex-wife; daughters who are very open-minded and non-judgmental towards others; a fantastic, patient, and sexy partner; parents who’ve taken their own journey and arrived at a space where mutual respect thrives; but most of all, I’m blessed to be doing work that means more to me than my jet-setting life ever did. I’m fortunate to wake up each and every day and work with people to help them cultivate their truth and embrace it.

My story contains pain, hurt, confusion, joy, fear, discouragement, happiness, and a different way of being in the world. In reality, it reflects life. The same life that anyone from any walk of life experiences. I’m thankful that I’ve been able to have this life, this experience, and to now help others grow into themselves with love, compassion, and respect.

-(Share your story with us!)

(TRIGGER WARNING: Child abuse, Drug use, Depression, Suicide attempt)

by Priscilla James

I was always raised in a Christan home. My parents always worked hard to help us kids. My family comes from Jamaica, but I was born here in the United States. I take a lot of pride in my family’s heritage. Growing up was hard because I had left a Christan school called Mt. Zion in Utica, New York and began going to public schools. I was very nervous and I struggled throughout high school always wanting to fit in and be popular. I hated myself because I was living a life no one would imagine. I was gay and afraid. I told some of my friends growing up that I struggled with identity issues and whether or not I wanted to be with a man or a woman. I lived a separate life not knowing what to do. My parents’ marriage was failing and my father was abusive to my mom. My mom got enough courage to leave him even though she lived in fear. She stood by her faith and never gave up hope that things were going to get better. This was all going on when I was 16.

I had dealt with some abuse when I was about 12. I always held it inside because I was ashamed. I had many friends, some who gave up on me and walked away because my lifestyle was out of control. I was drinking a lot, partying more than ever. I got into doing drugs and that’s when my life changed forever. I started getting so heavily into drugs that I started getting very depressed. My relationships weren’t always the greatest and I would always pull away. I broke hearts. I lived my life in chaos. I had lost jobs over the years. I always felt alone and that no one could help me.

I’m 26 years old now. There was one person that always made me feel like I was alive and that was my high school sweetheart. I knew I loved her more than anything in the world but I turned her world upside down. I never could forgive myself for that along with many other things. I was a broken soul that needed lots of help and on October 15th, 2010, I did the scariest thing you could imagine. I overdosed on pills. These pills were all half bottles of hydrocodone, flexeril, and paxil. I had cocaine and beer in my system, too. I wanted to die so bad and, well, I did.

My mom said God told her to go upstairs and she found me with a note, passed out slowly dying. I had burned my face with a cigarette. I’d left a letter telling my mom I would never fit in and that I had identity issues for a long time. Well my mom called the ambulance were she works and they rushed me to the hospital. That’s when everyone in my family waited to hear my fate. Well my mother had shouted at the top of her lungs saying we need a miracle and told the doctors that they needed one that time, then the doctors said they were loosing me. My mom called the pastor of the church I was born in, Mike Servello, and his wife Barb Servello of Redeemer Church, and they all prayed for me in the church. Then my aunts in New York City put my name across the radio for prayer and I had woken up the next day. I was in a coma for a long time. When I woke up, I looked at my mom and her friend that kept my mother company the whole time and I asked, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” They nearly passed out.

I was in Rochester Strong Memorial Hospital in the ICU. They brought me to the part of the hospital where I could get a new liver. My liver completely failed on me, but I never had to get a new one because I was healed. I was there for a month. I had to learn how to walk all over again and it was about three weeks before I could get my energy back because I was so weak. The doctors that worked with me explained I had a disorder called Bi-polar and major depression. I never knew I had this all these years. I knew I was depressed my whole life but couldn’t figure out why. Well from there I left to another hospital called MVPC in Utica, New York. I was there for 6 months and it was the hardest thing I ever went through in my whole life. I did everything I was told to do. And that kept me from staying there any longer. I told my doctor that I would do whatever it takes to get my life back together and when I told him that he was surprised because he never knew what I meant that day. Well he diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Anxiety. Well after knowing about my disorders and learning about them, I challenged myself to stay focused on getting out and becoming clean and I went straight to McPike Rehab center.

I only left the hospital about 4 times out on pass because I had wanted to recover and do it without any distractions. Going to rehab was fun. I ended there I wanted to go to this place called Conaford Park, another rehab place were they had a buffet and a pool. I really wanted to go and got my hopes up, but then was told I was going to McPike. When I was there I was a little afraid but knew if I could go through two other hospitals and do this, it’s worth it. And my counselor loved me there. A lot of people liked me even in the hospitals. I was always worried what people would think about me and now I’m a lot stronger than I was before. This place was a great place for my recovery. I was so proud of myself when I got my medallion with the Serenity Prayer on it. I carry it everywhere I go.

When I talked and gave my speech, I thought of what my mom always says. “No matter what any of you do or what you have gone through, everyone deserves a second chance.” And she was right. I was given back my life and I’m here today to share my story, and my journey and what I had to do to get here. I did it all on my own and I am ten months sober today. October 16th will be one year for me. I’m going the long way and staying happier with my medications, great friends to talk to when I need help and a loving church that supports me. My life is totally changed and I’ll never be the same person again. Now you can catch me volunteering in church  or doing some kind of benefit walk, plus my favorite hobby Zumba salsa dancing. I have a large support network and I know what to do when I need help. You see, I spent my whole entire life suicidal always afraid to tell my mother and we share such a bond now that I have been very blessed and fortunate. My father died on December 21, 2007, and my grandfather died just four days later. It was a very hard year for my family so even with that I kept all my feelings inside about how I felt about it. I never got the closure I wanted because the burial was done without us and I always blamed myself but it was never my fault. I say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and I learned a lot of lessons out of this to just talk about it. You don’t have to fit in to be popular and i am unique for a reason. We all have a plan and purpose and I’m just glad I’m able to help others and reach out to them especially because I know how it feels to not have anyone to go to. This is my story and I consider myself a miracle, more than just a hero. Now my life is starting its new chapter of happiness.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Rob C.

I’m the older brother of a small family. I just recently came out to my parents, and it was by far the hardest thing I’ve done. In my 20 years of life I’ve only seen my dad cry twice: for 5 minutes when his mother died, and the night I told him I was gay, he must had been crying all night long because the next day at breakfast he had his eyes all swollen up and so did my mom. It crushed me seeing them like that.

They told me they love me, I’m their son, and they won’t stop loving me, but I told them it isn’t enough. It’s not enough for me that they love me as their son, I needed them to see me as a human being, and understand me as a gay guy. I’m a guy, I love being a guy and I just happen to love guys too, and that DOES NOT make me any less of a guy than any straight guy. I needed them to understand that, and that kind of calmed things down a bit.

Now I’m in therapy, but it’s great because it’s not meant to change me but to help me be happy as I am. My parents, though, aren’t as okay as I would like them to be about the subject. We don’t talk about it, and they stay out of my personal life. But it’s only been about 2 months that I told them so I expect that in the future they come to peace with it.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Robyn S. 

When I was small, I practiced kissing with other girls.  But everyone did, and I never thought much of it.  I kind of hated girls.  They picked on me, and I always seemed to be one step behind their styles, their jokes, and their interests.

I was in 10th grade, and I realized one day that a girl I knew was gay.  It just kind of hit me – I knew why she talked that way, why she walked that way, why she was so loud sometimes, and so quiet other times.  She was gay, and she knew it.  Wow.  Being gay was a real thing. Anybody could be gay, I could be gay.  Yup, I could be….and the next day I just was. I tried it on walking down the halls, tried on the gay hat, and it fit. Ellen’s character came out later that year, and I watched her show with interest. By the end of the school year that girl and I were both out, and it turned out we had a couple of fag friends too.  We were the gay kids, and we were a clique just like other cliques, going to parties, pretty normal stuff.  I finally told my parents a few years later, they were cool.  I kept it secret from them because I was 15 and I didn’t really want them to know anything about me.  Such is the life of the teenage girl I guess.

My wife and I were married in 2005; we got engaged in 2003 right when all the legal stuff was going down in Canada.  We were in our early 20′s, apolitical, and not really paying attention.  We got engaged because that was what people did after being together for a while. No big deal.  Our wedding was small, our parents danced all night.  It was really nice.

Now my wife is pregnant, and we are expecting our first baby any day now.  We are in our early 30′s, and it was just time to make babies – we asked a pal who happily carted his porn over to our house, and donated some sperm.  We will be mommies soon and we can’t wait.

I have been so lucky.  To be born in a big city, surrounded by support, growing up at a time when our society was growing up too.  I’ve never really experienced homophobia, and my biggest concern is whether I will be mommy or momma in the years ahead.  For folks reading this who live in smaller closed-minded places, who live in fear or shame, my heart goes out to you. For those a bit older than me, I am grateful that your struggles have made my journey so smooth, and I try my best every day to make the road even more clear for the next generation.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Nathan Gibson

Bags are packed. Rejected by peers and family members. I take a deep breath as I go through the security line at the airport. At first the obvious questions begin to race through my mind. Did I forget anything in my pockets? I hope I don’t get put in that little side room for questioning. But then I start thinking; I have never been on a plane before. What if it crashes? What if I miss my connecting flight? Which leads to even more racing thoughts: Maybe the ex-gay counselor was right? What am I doing? Why am I moving to New Mexico of all places? I know nobody there. The farthest west I have ever been before is St. Louis, Missouri.

Preoccupied with my racing and anxious thoughts, before I knew it I had made my way through the security line and had already made my connecting flight, with only minutes to spare before I would land in New Mexico. I couldn’t help but think that there is no going back now. This is my chance to begin figuring out what being a young gay man is all about without any outside influences. I could only be so lucky to have a clean slate to work with. If worse comes to worse absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? The plane lands in New Mexico and I take another deep breath and make my way off the plane.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Nancy Ponte

I was only 16 when I realised that I was a lesbian, when a lot of the relationships that I had with guys failed, just because I felt that something was wrong with me.

My lesbian love story started when I was in high school. I met a strange girl in 2010 and we became friends. She also supported me through a difficult period of my life. A year after, we understood that we were in love with each other so we started dating. After a year of a beautiful relationship, one of my girlfriend’s relatives found out about our “wrong” relationship, went to my house and told all the information he knew about us to my parents, plus he added a lot of lies about me, saying that I’m a whore, that I lured my girlfriend to lesbianism and more. My parents were so upset with me because I did not tell them absolutely anything and they supported my girlfriend’s family.

As a result, it was forbidden for us to meet, or have any contact ever again, or her relatives would harm my family. That was their last threat. My girlfriend’s mother changed her school, phone number and house, just because she wanted to keep her daughter away from me. My parents did not accept me the way I was, as I never came out to them, so I lost their trust too. I was so upset that I cried almost every moment of the day. All of my friends had abandoned me as they didn’t want to be involved with me and my problems. The only person who stayed with me was our common best friend who was supporting both of us and I’m still so thankful for her!

After all this hell that we’ve passed through, I decided to start my life again without her. I started having love partners just to forget her. That was the most stupid thing that I’ve done in my life, as I started drinking and I regret about it nowadays. I did not understand that I would never forget her. My feelings for her were growing every day more and more and I could not live a minute without thinking about her.

A few months after our breakup, I went to find her when I got the chance to do so. She was shocked when she saw me and asked me the reason of my coming, as I replied to her, “I just wanted to see that you’re alright.” Then her eyes were filled with tears, but our conversation continued to be cold and strict. From that day, we started secretly talking again and I was over the moon!

Two months later, we connected our lives again and from that day we started dating again. We promised to each other to be careful not to be discovered until we finish high school and from that day we never cared about what people said about us. My parents have accepted me for who I am and realised that I am happy with this person. As for her mother, I don’t think that she’ll ever accept our relationship, which breaks my girlfriend’s heart but we have chosen this difficult path by ourselves, so we have to face the difficulties of the society we are living in. Plans for the future and the wish to move to a European country is the only hope that we can have for a better life.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Michael Poole

I’ve always known that I was gay. Well before I had even heard the word, or knew its full implications. I never believed it to be wrong, how could love be so? But growing up in a small country town with a combination of conservative Catholic parents and religious schooling, I knew it was a difference I had to keep secret. Back then, there were no openly gay people or role models to be seen. I felt very alone. Sometimes I wanted to tell people close to me what was going on, but I remained absolutely terrified, fearful of being rejected and losing them. Worst of all, my greatest fear was in my parents finding out.

I was a shy kid, not naturally inclined or interested in sport. That was always going to be a problem at school. I was one of those kids who wanted to believe no one knew the truth, meanwhile I was pressed against the glass doors of my self-imposed closet like a big gay butterfly for all the world to see. Sensing that, they quickly closed in. Though I was generally a good student, my school years increasingly became something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Constant homophobic taunts rang in my ears. In the last few years of secondary school, the new AIDS epidemic hit the world. The initial highly homophobic public backlash that came with it only pushed me even further into that closet, and raised my fears. It was probably more a cry of help than any real serious attempt, but at twenty one I attempted suicide. An overdose of pills, washed down with scotch. I can remember being completely surprised at how many family and friends visited me in the hospital. I remember thinking they don’t understand me. I didn’t even feel that I understood myself. Unfortunately, it was beyond me at the time to give any real explanation for my actions, and so any chance to do so was lost.

Yet with alcohol, I was to discover that discomfort and dis-ease was seemingly dissolvable. The feelings of alienation and the pain of those old schoolyard taunts slipped away. I went from being a quiet and introverted kid to the raging life of the party. But that so called party was very short-lived. Within a few years I had gone from drinking to feel comfortable to drinking for oblivion. Drinking to socialize became drinking alone. Binge drinking became daily drinking. Initially a few close friends expressed their concerns, but in my arrogance and denial I would not listen. As far as I was concerned, booze was not the problem, it was the solution. And so I slipped into alcohol and later drug addiction. For a decade I was to gradually descend into Hell. A very black abyss.

I got my opportunity to move to Sydney when a friend of mine asked me to come down and stay with her. Towards the end of my addiction, she was a lone beacon of kindness at what was obviously a very painful time for me. I thought I was in love. I wanted to be in love. So what’s a closeted, gay, alcoholic madman to do? Marry her, of course. We married the following year. It seemed to an outsider looking in that I was getting my life back together. Could that be so wrong? A few years later our only child, a daughter, was born. She was then, and still is, the greatest joy in my life.

Eventually confronted with the truth, my marriage finally ended after twelve years. You would think the new-found freedom would be the perfect opportunity to come out, but it was not to be. For whilst I had personally come to terms with my sexuality over the years, that old fear of losing people through disclosure was still a big hurdle. Having found Buddhism a few years before, it was of all places at a two week Buddhist retreat that I finally decided to come out as gay. I was 37 years of age, and now over ten years clean and sober. In the weeks and months after leaving that retreat, I came out to various family, friends and colleagues. All those old fears proved unfounded, and people were overwhelmingly accepting and supportive. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders, and the final piece of a very large puzzle clicked into place. I was joyous. For now.

My parents were to be the last people I came out to. Not because I was ashamed or afraid, but because I knew they would find it difficult. Though kind and loving, they were also extremely homophobic. For a time I simply wanted to spare them that pain. In the end, I decided that I had lived with the lie for long enough, and had to tell them. Any difficulty with that was ultimately their journey, not mine. And so a little over a year after first coming out, I wrote them a letter. I thought that best. I could say everything I wanted clearly thought out and articulated, without emotions on either side getting in the way. Their reaction more than lived up to my expectation. They disowned me, and wanted nothing to do with me any more. I gave them some space and time. Later, gently, I quietly tried to re-engage. Again and again, it was like hitting a brick wall. Eventually I gave up on them changing, the pain of which was overwhelming. It was like mourning their living death. A few years later, very bravely knowing exactly what would happen but acting anyway, my younger sister also decided to tell them she too was gay. More pain. Ignorance had now taken away both their children and grandchildren. My sister and I learned to move on. To this day my parents have not. It’s now been over 8 years.

It was the night of the gay and lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets. I was waiting to march in the parade for the first time. My excitement was building, the atmosphere electric. As I finally strode down Oxford Street I saw the countless smiling, cheering and all so accepting faces. The gay music anthems were pumping out loud from the float in front, and I was swept up in flamboyant joyfulness of it all. But that was not the best thing. Not by far. For my now teenage daughter was marching right by my side. Always accepting of her father, she wanted to share this moment with me as we marched with PFLAG. All the energy and emotion created by the crowd and parade could not match that simple act. Tears streamed down my face. Tears of joy.

I am writing this now sitting in my inner-city studio apartment. Forty-seven years young. I love my gay friendly neighbourhood, and I love this city – I’ve been here 25 years now. My 33-year-old Indonesian born boyfriend of five years and I live with a gay feline diva we call Oscar. My now 23-year-old daughter, now jokingly referred to as the fag hag, comes over every second weekend. Fourteen years of Buddhist practise has grounded me, over 20 years of being sober and clean has healed me of many demons.

The 17th January, 2013, will be the 10th anniversary of my coming out. I first wrote my story for I’m From Driftwood back in 2009, but as is often the case with life, much has happened since then. I therefore thought the opportunity of my anniversary was as good a reason as any to update it. I have lived a life of both great pain and great joy, and the simple act of coming out has not ultimately changed that. The fact is that since 2006, I have battled with major depression. It was as a result of effectively ‘losing’ both my parents, combined with a number of other major losses in my life. It got so bad that I self-admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital, twice. I never thought I could be back in such a bad state, but I was. But this time, unlike the first, I dealt with it much more head on. Aside from actively seeking medical help, I also engaged in ongoing therapy and have been put on anti-depressant medication.

Then, just as I was starting to get my life back on track, I first developed and then was finally diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in 2010. It’s left me with a multitude of ongoing health problems, often leaving me virtually housebound for sometimes weeks at a time. First the depression, and then CFS, have left me both unable to work and very socially isolated. I’ve come to appreciate the smallest of things and, much like my life in early recovery from addiction, I’m again finding myself simply taking things one day at a time. Life may again be a constant challenge, but I make of it as best I can.

It Gets Better promises Dan Savage in his well known GLBT project. Some might say that my life now has clearly taken a turn for the worse; but that’s not entirely true. Looking back I would still not change anything about my decision to come out, not even in the telling of my parents. I reflect on all those years living the lie, and trying to drown the truth away in a sea of booze and alcohol. Being gay is simply a part of me, as it has always been. But, despite other life challenges, I can now stand proud of that fact. That kid with feelings of difference and alienation is long gone. The truth has indeed set me free. You see, despite it all I am completely comfortable in my own skin. And really, that’s all I ever truly wanted. Life may have again gotten difficult, but inside, it is indeed better. Much better.

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