I would be lying if I said the last couple of months haven’t been difficult. I’ve had to step outside of my comfort zone and place myself in situations I would normally shy away from; mainly, socializing. To most people I come across as an extrovert, but I’m really just the opposite. Stating that, I am in a much happier place today than I’ve been in years. I’m reconnecting with myself, taking the time to be selfish and focus on my needs first, without compromise, and putting myself first. I haven’t done that in a VERY long time.
My dear friend, Leo, whose history with his own marriage has many similarities to mine, has been one of my greatest supporters. He was the one I called in the middle of the night when I felt hopeless, and he was also there to help me forge my new path. That’s not to say I haven’t had a lot of friends step up to the plate and be there for me – too many to name, but they know how much their support has meant to me. I rounded that bend in my life, and I’m finding real happiness again.
This has been the first time I’ve celebrated Pride weekend in 17 years. Pride for me isn’t about being a gay man; it’s about being a 13-year old boy growing up in Winthrop, Washington, knowing he was gay and being terrified his parents would find out, or that his social peers would find out. I had the good fortune of moving to Seattle when I was 14, but even in a larger school in a metropolitan area, I was always so guarded about my true self, and it wasn’t until I was 18 that I finally told my girlfriend at the time that I was gay.
Fast forward 31 years and I was able to spend today being proud of who I am, what I have to offer, and accepting of the fact that I am good enough. HAPPY PRIDE!