How I told my husband I am gay

In mid 2021, pride month was approaching and, at this point, Joel and I had been talking a lot about my queerness. Mostly, the conversation went to more vague and open-ended ideas. For the most part, I was pretty content with being “queer”. Not having to put a label on what I am or what I like. And even though I appreciated not having to dust off the old label maker, I still wanted to feel seen and known for my queerness. I shared with Joel one day how a small gesture from him would feel huge to me. I wasn’t expecting much. And actually, I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. But something in me longed to have my partner say, “I see you and I love you just the way you are.” The gesture Joel made was anything but simple or intimate. He is a go big or go home-r so he bought an ally shirt, posted pansexual colored posters in our front window and made a Tik Tok about his support for his pansexual wife. All of this was a surprise. When I drove home and noticed the colors in the window, I had a mild panic attack. I kept thinking about how exposed I suddenly felt. Then I got inside and was shown the Tik Tok. I instantly went into freeze mode. Sure, I appreciative of the attempt at honoring my request. I knew I could expect some discomfort with the announcement. Some backlash from people we know who don’t approve. And even some celebrations. What I didn’t expect was the blindsided feeling that I had. Why was that the case? Joel had done what I asked for. I definitely felt “seen” just not in the way I needed to be seen. It was like all eyes were on me and my super sweet, supportive husband. He was the hero who bravely stood before my dragons and slayed every single one of them on my behalf. But something was eating at me. Pretty soon it consumed me. One night I laid awake and thought, “but what if I’m not pansexual?” And the other thought, the one that I couldn’t dig down deep enough into the dragon’s layer to rescue… “What if I’m a lesbian?”

That question gripped me. It gutted me. And it grappled me to the ground and forced me to acknowledge it. Once I surrendered in my fight to ignore it, I was face to face with it. I can’t really explain the feelings the came. There was so much turmoil inside myself. Not at thinking I could be a lesbian but realizing that I am and trying to figure out what to do with this discovery.

Initially I thought, no matter the discovery that I would keep my family together. I would not upend all of our lives for this. I would not pull the rug out from anyone. I would not rewrite the story I was co-authoring. A conversation with my sister-in-law helped me to realize that my stance was the language my inner child heard her whole life- you’re not important enough. She then asked me if I would repeat those words to my non-binary nibling to which I responded, “never”. And she said, “Then why say it to yourself?” As it turned out, I believed the voice. I admitted that I do not love myself enough to do what’s right for me if it negatively affected other people and that I would rather die to self than hurt someone I loved. I left that meeting with a sense of renewal. One that would spark an effort to be true to myself above all. One that would prompt me to answer honestly when questions were asked and to pursue myself in a way I never had. I was excellent at putting myself away. This would be a challenge.

Later that day, Joel and I were sitting in the front yard watching the kids play. I had brought up the conversation and the fear around my discovery. I remember him asking me, “Were you ever sexually attracted to me?” My body wanted so badly to say, “yes.” To say anything that would make him feel more secure. But I answered, “Not in the way you want me to be.” That was the first step toward coming out to my husband.

Since then, we have experienced some heavy and hurtful conversations. I have had three panic attacks caused by the idea that Joel and I were coming to an end. Every single moment of this coming out process has been intentional and authentic and vulnerable and fucking terrifying. And every single moment of this process, my uncertainty has been met with grace and comfort. So what does all of this mean?

Well, I don’t have any plans of leaving Joel. I don’t have any plans to start dating women. I have found enormous relief in just being able to acknowledge this part of myself. I have discovered that there are people who like me for me and not just what kind of sex we have. I have affirmed that there is so much more to a life partner than the preferences and orientations we subscribe to. I also know how important it is to feel safe and seen and known. For right now, Joel and I have a few things that are a certainty and one thing that is an understanding.

The certainties are these: 1) We are a family and we get to decide what that looks like. 2) We make the life we want- nobody else gets to do that for us. 3) Our friendship is worth working together to maintain.

The understanding we have: If something needs to change, we will change together.

I know that my position might seem like a cop out to some. It might seem like a stifling of sorts to others. And that’s ok. It feels like freedom to me