My Pride Story

One Sunday at church, during my Sophomore year in High School, circa 2013.

“So. What team do you play for?”

“Oh I don’t play sports,” I responded, confused by the seemingly out-of-nowhere question.

“I know you’re a dancer and you ride horses, that’s not what I’m asking,” she said with a wink. “I’m asking what TEAM you play for: bi, straight, gay, pan? What’s your deal, ya know?”

“Oh,” I laughed, noticing how beautiful my new friend was. “Uh, straight I guess?”

“That’s too bad,” she sighed, looking me up and down. “I was hoping you played for my team.”

I was so confused by this interaction, I didn’t know what to do. My parents always told me that love is love. But they conveyed other messages too: “lesbian relationships are never successful,” “it’s difficult to live that lifestyle,” and “homosexuality is the one true unforgivable sin.” So in my mind, the choice was simple: you’d better be straight, or you’ll rot in Hell.

As you can probably imagine, I chose the first option. I married my high school sweetheart and we had the whole white picket fence heterosexual thing going on for nearly a decade. Two dogs, one apartment, and a house later, though, I had had enough. My family was shocked when I asked my husband for a divorce and then immediately moved out of state on my own. “What’s going on?,” they asked me. “I’m confused,” my Mom admitted. “He lets you date women and you’ve been with him since high school. What’s the problem? Why would you ruin what you guys have? You’re so happy with him.”

But what my mother didn’t understand was that I was living a lie. And the person I was betraying the most by living that lie was myself. From the outside looking in, I had the perfect life and lived in paradise. But to me, it was a prison. No matter how many girlfriends I was “allowed” to have, none of them could ever be a wife like I wanted. I was stuck in a constant cycle of falling for a woman, losing her (usually at least in part to me already being married), then then off to chase the next one. Thanks to therapy and queer support, I realized I’d never be happy if I stayed in my marriage. I even remember a very clear moment, where my girlfriend at the time was helping my babysit for a friend. She was rocking the newborn baby, who fell asleep immediately, and I realized: maybe it’s not that I don’t want kids... it’s that I don’t want them with HIM. And that’s when I knew I had to leave. I figured out that this was what I wanted shortly after my 24th birthday.

Now, several heartbreaks and many changes later, I’ve finally met the woman I’m going to marry. She’s perfect for me in every way. She’s the best part of each and every day. I’m still learning, though. I’m still in therapy, still growing and changing, unlearning toxic thought patterns and learning new ones. I am becoming more of my true and authentic self by the second. Sometimes I’m grumpy, sometimes I’m overreacting and triggered by trauma, and other times I’m so depressed that it takes everything I have just to get out of bed. And she loves me through all of it.

I say all of that in order to say this: don’t ever give up on your dreams, and always be true to yourself. Take the time to figure out what your own inner truth even is, so you don’t waste any time living your life for other people like I did.