Once upon a time I had no fear over words that were used, and wrote them without consideration of consequence. Now, I am learning the lessons of what happens when words are used in various situations: anger, disbelief, amazement, surprise. Suddenly, the world is full of experts. Everybody knows better: you’re expected to do research, come to the table organised and attentive. If you rain on somebody’s parade, expect retaliation. Heaven forbid you might become popular or feel confident enough to voice an opinion, because down this particular route madness and deception lie.
Yes, I can suffer from anxiety and still want to do stuff that scares me.
There was a very important point in the last few years where the realisation registered that there has to be something better than what has come before. Perhaps age is the issue, or maybe it is an increase in mental facility driven by more exercise and less procrastination… until I remember the exact moment when it happened. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever forget that place or time. It was when I felt comfortable to admit out loud something, which then stopped mattering as a hindrance.
It was the first time I told someone I was bisexual.
This is not something I feel the need to stick in my Twitter bio, ram down people’s throats, or wave in people’s faces. I am what I am, effectively, and it has taken since my teens to truly understand what that meant. This doesn’t mean I’m about to divorce my husband either and go undertake some massive mid-life crisis spree of debaucheries and excess. It means that, yesterday, I applied to be an advocate and on the form where it asked me for my sexuality, I ticked a different box.
This will be the first time I’ve ever written my sexual preference in a blog post. That probably ought to be a big deal, but what is going to happen will now, at least for me, be an exercise in who does really pay attention, and who’s just here pretending they care. All the people I consider truly close in my life already know. Nobody has, as yet, rejected me as a freak but inevitably that will happen. When it does, I’ll know that I was right about them all along, and they never really got me to begin with, and honestly it will not be a loss.
That’s the thing here: I am not the same as you. I have never been the same for as long as I can remember and it is a precarious combination of factors that leads to this conclusion. I can be bisexual and happily married, with children and never sleep with a woman in my life. Yes, I’ve always found everybody sexually attractive. I just never understood until very recently what that meant I was. But, when the revelation hit, it was as if the entire Universe quietly and unobtrusively realigned in my favour.
No, I won’t be changing my Social media biographies any time soon. No, I don’t feel the need to keep reminding you. This is a journey I’m still in the early years of, and there are a lot of considerations at play. For now, and considering I’ve applied for a number of significant mentorships and advocacies under this banner, I can say it has been said, that I am ‘out’ and that’s it, basically.
Time to move forward.