This Is What Coming Out Feels Like | Thought Catalog

Hold your breath for one minute. Count it. Sixty seconds. Be conscious of that dull aching in your lungs. Hold it in for another few seconds, until your chest is burning and you feel like you’re going to erupt.

Think you can hold it any longer?

Notice how all of your focus revolves around restricting yourself. If you’re in a public place right now, are you looking at the ground so nobody notices that your cheeks are puffed and you’re concentrating very hard on not passing out? Are you still typing away on the keyboard with full focus, or are you checking the clock and wondering how much longer you have to go before you can breathe?

If you’re by yourself, are you tempted to give in? Are you wondering if you’re crazy, sitting there holding your breath on command? How many others out there are holding their breath just like you? Fantasize about what it would be like to draw in the oxygen around you, feel it hit your lungs and fill them into two big balloons. Imagine them lifting you, imagine yourself happily floating away, drunk on air, bigger somehow.

But you are still here holding your breath because some stranger you don’t even know told you to, and instead of floating you feel more like falling to the ground and crying.

This is what being in the closet is like.

Then, breathe. Suck in all the oxygen you were craving, allow it to fill your lungs. Those first few breaths you drink in quickly and greedily, knowing what it was like to be denied of them. Smell the sweet air. You are alive.

Repeat it to yourself. “I once denied myself of air but now I can breathe.” Love breathing. Go outside on crisp fall morning and let the chill hit the back of your throat as you gulp for more. Be obsessed with breathing, be obsessed with how incredibly lucky you are for being able to. Notice the buoyancy you feel as you keep opening your mouth to the air.

Notice the lightness you feel when you relax and let breathing come naturally. Notice what it’s like to not have to think about it, to go about your daily routine and not even register that with each passing moment, you are drawing and exhaling breath.

This is what coming out is like.

Fathers Day 2013

Happy Fathers Day Dad!

Mothers Day 2013

You Covered the World Grey

Last night was intense. You were different. You had a black eye and you’ve lost so much weight. The way you cried was strange. It was inhibited and unnatural. You acted like everything had to be hidden. You were hidden.

And I know you weren’t crying because you missed me or you wanted me back. You were crying because you finally want this, too. You’ve decided to let go and change is scary. You said this break-up is going to be a time of growth for us both and I knew you were right.

Everything you said had this urgency about it, like this might be the last time we speak.  You said I always felt like water to you, like I was slipping through your hands. You were emotionally detached from your words as you spoke and they became this messy flow of contradicting thoughts. You’re tired of caring, you said, and you’re ready to be done. You don’t want a friendship or any relationship with me. You even started telling me about some new girl you’ve been seeing.  The sex, you told me, is different with her. I didn’t imagine it would be the same. You were deliberate and cold and you didn’t care how you were making me feel.  As much as you loved me, you wanted to hurt me. I wished they canceled each other out.

I felt exhausted and hurt the entire time you were here. I was disappointed in you. Betrayed.  You left me no room to respond. You made it clear that you’re moving on. I hated you last night, but I didn’t want you to leave. I get it. You’ve given up, and somehow, I never thought you would. I thought one of us would always resist this. How can we both give up at the same time?

Where does this leave us?  We’re not friends, but I know everything about you. I know your quirks and flaws and how you spend all your free time. Now suddenly, we’re not allowed to see each other or talk. We’re supposed to act like strangers and forget.  How do you unlearn someone you know so well?  Maybe one day we will be strangers, if that’s even possible.

Once you left, I realized why you had come over in the first place. It’s the same reason I sometimes drive the long way home, so that I pass by your apartment.  And it’s why I write you letters with no intention of sending them.  You were sad, and you didn’t know where else to go. I’ve been feeling that way, too. You’ve suddenly become inaccessible to me and I don’t know what to do with myself.  I’m still trying to get used to a world where you don’t exist. I still care about you and love you, but I wish I didn’t.

I sat there for a while, staring at my bed where you had been sitting. I thought back to high school, when we started dating. We were so young. I wasn’t gay but I knew I loved you.  It didn’t make sense and it didn’t have to, at least not to me. There were countless fights and unsuccessful explanations with my sister and parents. I hated trying to describe myself with labels because I never felt like they fit. I fought with everyone to be with you. I struggled with myself a lot, too. I was scared of other people and how it made me look.  It all seemed hopeless at the time.

Before we dated, I saw the world the way our parents teach it to us. It was clear. It was good or bad, black or white. Everything seemed to fit into a certain place and have a name.   Then you came and shook everything up. You covered the world grey.

We’ve changed a lot over the past four years.  In retrospect, we could have handled things better back then. We were dramatic with our secrets and the running away. We lied a lot to be together and it all felt justified in the name of love.   I think we held on so tightly to each other because we felt like we had earned it.  We worked so hard to be together, that we forgot we had the option to give up.

I Love It

I’m loving this song…

Unfamiliar Territory

I somehow agreed to moving from West Hollywood to New York City with my partner after dating for a whopping 8 months. She’d been accepted to an awesome MBA program in Manhattan and I hated my job, so it worked. Yes, U-Haul’ing, I know… Probably the biggest reason I agreed was that we had agreed to move back to California in two years, after her program ended. You can do anything for two years.

My parents and siblings did not think this was a good idea (I have 4 older, opinionated siblings). This was completely unfamiliar territory for them. Nobody in my family has ever lived outside of California. I know that no parent wants to send their child into a situation without being able to offer some kind of road map. With all of their doubts, I constantly had to act like I’d never been so sure of any decision in my life. I acted like 100% of me wanted to go, but it was probably more like 51%.

I was just scared. I had no idea what I was doing. I mean literally, like the actual process. Like how will we get to our apartment once we arrive with so much luggage? And what about furniture? How will we furnish it and get groceries without a car? Also, I’m directionally challenged. How will i learn to navigate a place that operates so differently from what I know? I hate trains. 3,000 miles is far. I cant just drive home when I’m feeling sick and want my mom to take care of me. Or what if Marnie and I break up? Will I stay there, on my own or move back? What if I can’t find a new job? Or make new friends? What if I regret missing out on everything here, like seeing all of my nieces milestones?

The night before leaving, I was hanging out with my sister talking and squishing stuff anywhere it would fit. I couldn’t focus on anything she was saying, I just felt so nervous. She finally got in my face and with her best older-sister, genuinely concerned look, she asked me if I was scared. I started bawling. I was so insanely far out of my comfort zone. I felt like I was giving up so much by choosing to go. Like everything was starting to speed in one direction and I couldn’t make it stop or even slow it down. I was a ball of emotion from that point. As my mom and sisters drove me to the airport, my sisters were unsually quiet and my mom kept tearing up. She told me about 342 times that it wasn’t to late to change my mind. Seeing her scared for me helped me pull my shit together. I didn’t cry at all the day I was leaving. I wanted to show her that she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Then as soon as her car started to roll away, I had a panic attack (literally).

It was dark when we arrived at the Kalahari, our 400-unit two-tower building and were welcomed by a smiling doorman. We had finally made it! Throughout the process of getting there, I stopped feeling scared, it just all became new and exciting. It was strange to look around knowing that this will all become home for me. We set down our suitcases, one of which contained our temporary blow-up mattress, in the empty apartment and left to explore the neighborhood.

Our first week here was entirely dedicated finding and buying everything that wasn’t worth shipping across the country. We found a bed, lamps, a kitchen table and chairs, a couch and small things, too, like light bulbs and shampoo.  Harder than finding all those things, though, was figuring out how to get it all back to our apartment without a car. Cabs, trains, moving services, generous people with cars and Amazon-second-day-delivery all became part of the process.

Okay, I’ve been here for 7 months now and here’s what I’ve learned about NYC so far:

• Cabs tell you if they are full, off duty, or picking-up depending on which light is lit up on top of their car
• If delivery is a possibility – YOU USE IT
• Local trains stop often and are slow and express trains are faster and for farther distances
• Times Square is similar to a less sexual version of Las Vegas
• It is completely normal for organizations here to be over 100 years old
• People connect here in a really beautiful way, partly because they’re forced and I’ve never experienced connections like this in Cali
• If the subway station has a green bulb outside of it, you can buy/refill your card in that station
• If a  town-car (aka a gypsy cab) offers to drive you to your destination, negotiate the price BEFORE you get in
• There never needs to be a sober driver
• You can get any food you want delivered at 4 a. m. (extremely dangerous)

TINY

Seeing her across the room as I walked into my sister’s house, turned her existence into a completely different kind of reality. I was suddenly nervous to meet my new niece.  I hadn’t expected her to be so alive and real with her own facial expressions and emotions and little tiny voice. She constantly seemed to be doing something new and it surprised me every single time. Every tiny noise she made was perfect.

This new little person is now a permanent fixture in every member of my families lives. I will know Rylie until the day I die and it feels like she just appeared in the world out of nowhere. I’ve never known someone since they were born and I already felt so much anticipation for her life. I cant wait to see who she will become. How did this person come out of my sister? As I stared at her, her whole existence  seemed impossible, like she was some kind of miracle.

I wonder who she is going to be? There are so many possibilities at this point and I guess they continuously diminish as time goes on and reality unfolds.  She seemed so tiny and helpless and i wanted so much to give her whatever she could possibly need. I can’t imagine how it must feel for Melanie, my sister. Her life is the one changed the most. This baby needs Mel and after watching them together, it was evident that Melanie is beginning to need her just as much. This tiny baby has no idea yet how blessed she is. What a lucky-draw-of-cards for her to be given Melanie and Mike for parents. They are strong, beautiful, truly good people and I’m completely confident that Rylie will have everything she could ever need.

xOxOxx
Sent from my iPhone

Transitioning Into the Real World

My job does not define me.

I don’t understand why our jobs, or lack thereof, are such massive indicators of who we are to other people. Occupations are the first thing we want to know when we meet someone new.  They’re how other people judge us and how we judge other people. We even judge ourselves by the same those same standards.

I recently started my first “big girl” job and it is going pretty well. It’s ridiculously boring, but I’ve concluded that most office jobs are. This 9-5 thing is has forced me to go to the gym everyday on my lunch break. It helps the workday go by faster and that way I won’t go insane sitting in an office of closed-minded, old men all day.

I feel like my life has suddenly become this mature, sophisticated existence with the snap of a whip. Just two or three months ago, I was a kid in college doing different things every day.  Nobody prepares you for this world, not really. In college, I could go to themed parties almost any night of the week, wear whatever clothes I wanted and I felt like my life was completely mine.  I had so much more freedom with my daily existence. Now my life literally consists of being in an office, going to the gym and going out on the weekends to try to forget how serious the rest of my life has become.  It is crazy how fast life can change but I guess if it changed that quickly once, it can change that fast again.

Anyway, the point is that right now I would NEVER want to define myself with my job description. Maybe a couple of decades down the road when I have successfully ended poverty, or something similarly amazing, I would consider letting my occupation have a place in my self-description.  It is true that I currently do Marketing to support myself.  But, I am also a writer, an activist, a little sister, a caffeine addict, a millennial, a feminist, a psychology lover, a photographer, a California girl and lot of other things that are way more descriptive of who I am than how I make money.  Who I am today is not even close to the person I was five years ago, thank goodness, and I know I will be a lot different in five years from now.  Maybe this transition into the “real world” has been a good thing for me after all. Even though it was not necessarily my choice, it is forcing me to change and evolve and I hope I never stay the same.