Coming Out – a rite of passage reserved for those whose sexuality is contra-indicated by major monotheistic religions? Well No.
Telling people that as a girl I quite liked girls was pretty easy. After admitting it to myself when I realised that fantasing about girls and wanted to be sexual with them didn’t mean I had to give up on boys. I was lucky that the group of friends I was with at the time (age 16) was very proud about being sexually liberal and being bi was de riguer, though most of my friends have gently pottered back to the safe straight fold; additionally I was enjoying being a rebel and the school was expecting to deal with my acting out. I was prepared to tell my father I had a girlfriend months in advance of doing so -but I have never tried to tell him that I like boys too.
More importantly for my present circumstances I have not yet been ready to tell him about the fact I am able to love more than one person. I hope that one day I will be able to explain that my love for W is lifted and filled by my love for B. I am sad that I have not yet been able to explain to my dad that B is such a huge part of my life but for a while yet I think I need to focus on making W a part of my family.
But as closets go, polyamory seems easy -after all the majority of my friends know and seem to feel able to ask me questions, though I have to admit there have been ructions. For W’s sake I try to be discreet but kitten and W herself have been quite open and sometimes the process of people’s finding out and their subsequent reactions have been painful but What’s hard for me is my mood.
I have lived an open bisexual ‘lifestyle’ for nearly 12 years, and been with W for nearly 10 years – even my grandmother knows her. B & I have been together for 3 years and been reasonably open for the whole time. But it is more than 14 years since my mother died, perhaps 16 years since I first self-harmed and definitely 12 years since my first major breakdown and yet I have had only one conversation with my father about it – less than a month ago -and there are so many people I close up on at just the mention of mental health.
It is hard for me to acknowledge that Depression is part of my life. Still in the darkness of my mind I feel that it is a weakness and failure on my part
Depression is my cancer; it has grown on me, malevolent and deadly. It needs to be cut out and destroyed..yet in doing so other corrupted parts might need cut out too – creativity, individuality, independence which are fed and fed upon by my dark moods. The treatment is scary; it zaps my energy, takes away how I look and see myself, makes me want to throw up… And in the end there can be no promise that it will do more than push it into remission ready to rear up again in the future.
Depression is my guilty secret. The ‘thing’ I should have beaten and the view of pity visited upon me. I want to be able to be honest, to accept that its shadows are part of who I am and know that acknowledging that it will always be with me does not mean admitting defeat. I want to be myself without giving in to the darkness and I am afraid.
Depression is the closet I can’t quite clear out. I believe acceptance and lack of judgment, support and hope can help but I am not yet ready to stand up and tell the people I know that this is me.