It still doesn't feel so much "better," but it is better. I know. There is weight upon me still, and not in a good way.
At a recent business meeting, I talked with a colleague about it all. It's like, now that I am out, there is no need to hide, no more pretense, no more faking it. No more pretending.
And that's it, exactly. No more pretending.
It seems like grief. It feels like mourning. I've given over so much energy (in the past) to bottling all of this stuff up. Now the pressure is off. The weight lifted. And there's a bit of emptiness. I'm saying any of that is bad stuff; I'm just describing how it's feeling. Different. A little empty. I can no longer pretend I am something I am not.
So now, it's discovering who I am. What does it mean. And, yes, there is still a part of me that longs to be "typical." By that I mean, "straight," married, happy family, promising career, etc.
[I'm coming to dislike the word straight as meaning "heterosexual." Straight has too many other fine uses. And I know a lot of straight people who are bent in their own ways. I prefer the term typical because that is the norm. There are more of them than us. That kind of life is more, well, typical. There are limits to that word, too. But for now . . . . .]
I am mourning. And I can't pretend any more that it will ever be so.
Now, mind you, this is not regret. I regret many things in my life. But what is past, is past. Can't go back, re-do, un-do or anything like that. I don't regret my children, or event he many good years I had with a very good wife. This is not regret. But it is mourning. Grief.
And there is much to celebrate, too. And I'll get on with that, in time.
This is all new. In this case, new IS good. Now, I'm discerning how life will look, feel, be.
Another colleague said I'm beginning to breathe in new life. New air. New.
And in other news, it has snowed some more. I'm ready for Spring.
You know, I'm ready for a lot of things. Bring it on.