Coming Out... Sorta

One of the comments I received on my last post made mention that I didn't use my real name and face on it. We are out...sorta. In our quest for acceptance there is a fine line between sharing yourself and putting your head on the chopping block. Bravery tempered with a touch of common sense. I suppose "out" must be defined according to the person and their situation.

For myself, "out" means if you see me in a public place you will usually see me with the guys, one arm around one's waist while holding the other's hand. It means not hiding my affection for them. Friends and people who are important to me know who we are and will ask if one of us show up at an event without the others. We don't shove it in people's faces, we are just ourselves.

Work is a different ball of wax. Billy and I work for companies that may not be amused by our points of view so we keep our private life just that: private. Jeremy's supervisor knows and some of his coworker's know. Again, bravery tempered with common sense.

How one comes out is another discussion. When my brother called to tell me that our dad was dying, I cried on Billy and Jeremy. After the arrangements had been made, I sent Jeremy a message letting him know the date and time so he could pass that on to his supervisor who was waiting for the information to grant him time off. This sent me into a nail-biting, anxiety-fueled fretfest. I had to tell my mom, who had lost her husband, and my brother, who had lost his dad, that our sweetheart was coming to what was already going to be an emotionally charged event.

I was shocked by their reactions. Mom said if he loved us than he was welcome, what was I thinking? She hugged me and asked if all of us were going to stay with her. My brother shrugged and said it was my life. My sister-in-law had the best response ever: "If he's important to you, than he's family."
Not everyone was accepting. An aunt I hadn't seen in years was almost shouting at me at Dad's wake when she saw our five-year-old's pretty blond hair and compared her to dark-haired Jeremy on my arm. "The hair came from her Daddy, I had nothing to do with it," I said as Billy walked up. I was then set on the Ignore List, which left me more time to talk to my uncle, her husband and a minister, uninterrupted who enjoys a good conversation. My favorite uncle, B, and his wife hugged Jeremy as well as the rest of us, a clear signal of their support of us. I did get the Uncomfortable Smile once or twice from people who I hardly knew.

I can't think of the funeral without a lump in my throat. I never had more than one free hand the entire time. Either Billy or Jeremy held my hand the entire time, save when they folded Dad's flag. I'm crying while writing this, remembering watching it through tears and being so grateful for their love. I can hardly type remembering reaching backwards and feeling two hands grab mine.

Afterwards, we had dinner at Mom's with those I termed "people who matter". These are the people who know me and my kids, who I keep in touch with and who I miss when I'm gone. They're the ones in the stories I tell about my family, the ones who's birthdays are on my calendar. Billy and I watched Jeremy mingle and even play with our nieces. When he left he had to stop and get a hug from everyone. Mom watched his car pull out the driveway with Billy and I. "He's a nice guy." she told us. "I like him."

"Out" needs defining, I think. It would vary according to the situation and the people involved. Sometimes we need to step off the cliff with our eyes closed but sometimes I don't think telling your boss you're poly is a wise idea. I also think that looking down on those who are unable to live openly is flat out rude. We don't throw stones because someone will pick them up and fling them right back with a bit of English on it. Live how you can when you can. Don't let others define what it means to you to be "out". I wish I could include a hug with that sentence.

So I am out...sorta. I will use a picture and my first name on this article so you know who I am, if we should happen to cross paths. Then you could collect the hug I owe you.