Free To Be Me

I have thought much about coming out at work, plotted, schemed – planned it like a surgical strike. But it seems that my planning was for naught. No, not a slip-up, not caught holding hands in an eatery. But as usual, I am ahead of the story.

My office manager is a sweet person and a friend; someone I would have been happy to share my new life with. The only reason I have not come out to her is that I no longer invite people into my closet and the doors are not scheduled for demolition for another three weeks. But we still talk and this week I make another reference to my separation. My office manager nods her head and reminds me that as long as I am happy, as long as I am comfortable with myself – well then it’s really okay with everyone.

I know this conversation, I know those comments. They are the comments I receive when I come out to someone. It is inescapable – she must know. A little later in the day our paths cross again, another quiet moment: I take the plunge. “It seems you have a theory of my separation.” She laughs and says “I figured it out a while ago.” It seems that a few people have, as I like to say, connected the dots.

Now to be honest, I have left quite the trail of bread crumbs. It is not that I wanted to be caught as much as I live my life openly. How many separated men still occasionally brown bag lunches made by the ex. And a room in her new house – office manager tells me that was the real lynchpin for her. And I do spend nights with a friend in the City – I never mention gender, but…….. And of late there is a picture across from my desk – two friends on vacation, bathing suits and baseball caps. Seems innocent enough…

But there is a piece of the equation that should have been obvious. I spend my days working with highly intelligent professionals trained to connect dots, to separate wheat from chaff, to not be fooled. And fooled they were not.

So it remains a quiet topic but it is clear: my co-workers know that I am gay. It has been seamless: I could not tell you when they figured it out, and I suspect in a sense neither could they. Our interactions are unchanged, it is a non-event.

And in this, my gratitude knows no bounds. I never wanted to come out – I just wanted to be out. It may seem like a fine distinction, but to me it is as different as night and day. Coming out has an element of being a “statement” and is frankly a personal matter. But being out is the ability to be myself without worry or self consciousness.

I am sure there will be bumps – this is real life and there is much prejudice still out there. But still every morning I walk into my office feeling neither shame nor pride. Just being me; and really that is more than enough.

Out With It

I am out to my family, my friends, children of all ages. Surely that should be sufficient. Yet I have my plan and in less than two months I will also be out at work. It is a planned out – a military like operation taking into account my personal preferences, appropriate etiquette and of course, office politics. The details are unimportant, subject to change, and someday may be a blog post as a matter of history, not conjecture.

But what fascinates me is my need to do this and how my underlying feelings have changed. At work I have friends who I have shared my life with – stories of big vacations and those little “I’m going to kill the kids” moments. So it seems natural to share the gayness, not for the gayness sake but for the “Oh, my friend and I had dinner at this little bistro” sake, for the not needing to self edit before speaking because someone may notice a little gender slip. As it is my friends know I have “friends” and that I am likely dating: clearly women in their eyes and while many would say that is enough, to me it feels false. And it raises dual issues of pride.

Now, as always, I must digress. I have never been one for displays of pride. My car has no bumper stickers, I march in no parades. It is not that I do not have deep core beliefs and pride in many of them; I just do not feel the need to emote them to the world.

Yet now I do feel that desire to share, a bit of wearing myself on my sleeve. I want to share the “micro” – I have a friend who is a wonderful person. Who in my shoes would not want to share that – straight or gay. But there is also the “macro” level, the pride in being gay.

Pride- all groups seem to have it of late, St. Patrick’s or Columbus Day, other less famous ethnic groups. But in the case of gay, at least for me, the pride is rooted in shame. I do not think the average St. Paddy’s day reveler was ever ashamed of being Irish. But I think many, at least of my generation, have roots deep in a closet, deep in a place of shame. It is in the overcoming of my shame that now springs pride, pride in all of me and that of course includes the gay.

I was listening to music last night and played a song that I have loved for thirty plus years:
“All I know is what I feel whenever I’m not playing,
Emptiness ain’t where it’s at,
neither’s feeling pain.
......
And sunshine’s waiting for me a little further down the road”
Jorma Kaukonen / Jefferson Airplane

It is not that I have not had more than my share of sunshine – I have led a blessed and good life. But on levels I still do not fully comprehend, my acceptance – pride – in being who I am has allowed me to achieve a new level of sunshine - at home, at work, with others and most importantly with myself.


And it is good.