Exactly 365 days ago, around this time of the day, I was sitting in the car and did the most difficult thing I have ever done in my entire life. I came out to my mom. So today I celebrate my coming-out's first anniversary (YAY!), and I figured it would be the excellent time to tell you that story.
I actually had no particular intention to come out, that 26th of September. It just happened upon me. I had been thinking about it a lot, but as I already said before, these thoughts didn't exactly help me. I tried to imagine what would be the perfect setting. This setting basically included my mom and me, together in a situation where we didn't have to make direct eye-contact (looking into her eyes when telling her gave me the shivers). This description boiled down to two options: us doing the dishes together, or us sitting in the car (with me behind the steering wheel, I didn't want her to crash into a tree due to the shock).
Without me fully knowing it at the time, option two became reality. My mom and I were in the car, and I was driving. We were headed for a clothing store. Halfway there, my mom started to talk about someone she knew that was gay. "It must be so hard to be gay, to struggle with it, you know."
From the moment she started talking, I could feel the direction she was heading. From that point on, my heartbeat started going up. Nerves and time have caused me to not remember exactly what my mom was talking about. All I could think was "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT" and "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT". The conversation went on, and all of a sudden the urge came up to tell her. I could not resist, it was time, finally time.
I didn't dare to watch anywhere else than the road. My breath stopped for a moment, and a hot rush of heat pulsed out from my heart to every single tip of my fingers. Goosebumps. My hands clenched to the steer. My palms started to sweat. I was shaking.
"Yes?" my mom said, after a brief pause.
"Yes."
"Yes..." she replied hesistantly, still putting every mental jigsaw in place, adjusting the image she had in her mind. She said "yes" for another two or three times (until the last piece of the puzzle fell in place, and probably also because she was speechless). My tight grip loosened. The steering wheel could breath once again.
It was out in the open. I was out in the open. To be honest, I felt like a deer on an open plain during the open season. My biggest secret was not a secret anymore. I could no longer hide behind my mask of straight. This vulnerability soon made place for euphoria though.
As the conversation went on, the inevitable question appeared: "When are you going to tell dad?"
We both knew that my dad wasn't going to react positively. I didn't feel like telling him. Luckily, my mom was there to support me. She informed him as soon as I was back in Leuven. I didn't want to be at home. I wasn't up for it.
My dad actually cried. He called me as soon as he could, surprised that I sounded just the same as I did before, as if nothing had happened. He visited me in Leuven that week. I can still vividly picture him breaking down again, when we started talking. Being very stereotypically influenced by various factors throughout his life, he was very scared and worried. But I remember that day as the day on which I had a very grown-up conversation with my father. It was the first time we ever did that, and it felt excellent.
It has been one year. A lot has happened. I have basically come out to everyone around me, and most importantly: I am happier than ever before.
I actually had no particular intention to come out, that 26th of September. It just happened upon me. I had been thinking about it a lot, but as I already said before, these thoughts didn't exactly help me. I tried to imagine what would be the perfect setting. This setting basically included my mom and me, together in a situation where we didn't have to make direct eye-contact (looking into her eyes when telling her gave me the shivers). This description boiled down to two options: us doing the dishes together, or us sitting in the car (with me behind the steering wheel, I didn't want her to crash into a tree due to the shock).
Without me fully knowing it at the time, option two became reality. My mom and I were in the car, and I was driving. We were headed for a clothing store. Halfway there, my mom started to talk about someone she knew that was gay. "It must be so hard to be gay, to struggle with it, you know."
From the moment she started talking, I could feel the direction she was heading. From that point on, my heartbeat started going up. Nerves and time have caused me to not remember exactly what my mom was talking about. All I could think was "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT" and "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT". The conversation went on, and all of a sudden the urge came up to tell her. I could not resist, it was time, finally time.
"Erm, mom? I'm like that."
I didn't dare to watch anywhere else than the road. My breath stopped for a moment, and a hot rush of heat pulsed out from my heart to every single tip of my fingers. Goosebumps. My hands clenched to the steer. My palms started to sweat. I was shaking.
"Yes?" my mom said, after a brief pause.
"Yes."
"Yes..." she replied hesistantly, still putting every mental jigsaw in place, adjusting the image she had in her mind. She said "yes" for another two or three times (until the last piece of the puzzle fell in place, and probably also because she was speechless). My tight grip loosened. The steering wheel could breath once again.
It was out in the open. I was out in the open. To be honest, I felt like a deer on an open plain during the open season. My biggest secret was not a secret anymore. I could no longer hide behind my mask of straight. This vulnerability soon made place for euphoria though.
As the conversation went on, the inevitable question appeared: "When are you going to tell dad?"
We both knew that my dad wasn't going to react positively. I didn't feel like telling him. Luckily, my mom was there to support me. She informed him as soon as I was back in Leuven. I didn't want to be at home. I wasn't up for it.
My dad actually cried. He called me as soon as he could, surprised that I sounded just the same as I did before, as if nothing had happened. He visited me in Leuven that week. I can still vividly picture him breaking down again, when we started talking. Being very stereotypically influenced by various factors throughout his life, he was very scared and worried. But I remember that day as the day on which I had a very grown-up conversation with my father. It was the first time we ever did that, and it felt excellent.
It has been one year. A lot has happened. I have basically come out to everyone around me, and most importantly: I am happier than ever before.
I love you!
L.
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