'Coming Out'Hell

It all started with dreams. For years, I could never work out why I was seducing women in my sleep. Did my subconscious self think I was male? Is it normal for other women to dream of being a man?

They were all questions I could have asked, but I was too scared to, so I stayed quiet instead. What I realise now is that I hadn’t changed in my dreams. I was seducing women because I fancied them. It took me years to discover this. I kept it to myself because I was embarrassed to share it. I genuinely thought there was something wrong with me.

When I realised why I dreamed about women, I tried hard to be a good daughter. I worked exceptionally hard to follow the life they wanted for me. I got a promising career as a teacher, bought my own house and succeeded in everything I did.

I dated men and didn’t question why I didn’t love any of them. I thought I was incapable of love. I enjoyed being with them, but something was always missing from my life. Finally, I married a man I didn’t love because I thought it was the thing to do. I wanted children, so a man was needed; at least, that’s what I thought.

When he couldn’t give me children, I was lost. I was stuck in a relationship I never wanted to be in, and now I could not fulfill my dreams. And yes, the dreams kept coming all those times with a beautiful dark-haired woman who drove me crazy.

The end of the marriage was the day I found out I couldn’t have children. Still, I tried to be the perfect daughter and make it work. I was an idiot. A friend once told me that she was worried I would wake up in my fifties and be depressed, knowing I was stuck with someone I didn’t love with no chance of a family. At the time, she knew me better than I knew myself. It didn’t stop her from disowning me when I moved in with a woman, though.

The events that changed my life forever started when I was thirty-two; it would be another seven years until I realised it. As a headteacher, I needed a personal assistant, so I started recruiting. In walked this young woman with long dark hair, who I instantly clicked with. I hired her on the spot; at the time, I didn’t know there were any feelings.

Life moved on for several years, and we went our separate ways, always keeping in touch and bouncing back to each other. The universe had plans for us. One day, she texted me to say she was having a tough time; I invited her for coffee to catch up.

Then it happened: I fell in love with her. Even then, I fought the feelings. I didn’t want to disappoint them, but the feelings were too strong.

I had fallen in love for the first time in my life. I knew the butterflies in the stomach everyone mentioned when you saw the person of your dreams. I knew what it meant to give your heart to another and realise they held it in their hand.

The day I admitted to her and myself that I was gay was when my life started. I stopped living a lie and started being me. The first person I knew I had to tell was my sister. We were as thick as thieves. She always had my back, and I hers. If I told her first, then she would be there to support me, she was my rock.

The day I told her it was just the two of us in a car. She was mortified. She stated she didn’t like my girlfriend and could not have her children around us. That day, I lost my best friend and my two beautiful nieces. She also told me that she would not hide it from our family and would tell them as soon as possible.

They were away at the time on holiday. I was waiting for them to return home so I could tell them in person. She took that decision away from me, so I had to do the worst thing ever. I had to text my mum and tell her. It was nothing I ever wanted to do, but I was trapped. She had to hear it from me, and I wouldn’t see her before my sister.

That was only the start of the pain. I confided in my friends, whom I had supported through thick and thin, but the majority stopped talking to me. Some of the friends I had in my thirties still haven’t spoken to me. Others have returned, but the depth of friendship is no longer there, although I am trying.

No one liked the real me. Except for me. I liked myself for the first time.

My dad and I had always been close. As a girl, I used to go to work with him. Whilst my sister made cakes with Mum, I put together the lead lining for his plumbing. I think up until the text message, I secretly thought he might be the only member of my family to support me.

The man has sent probably two text messages in his life. My heart broke when my phone bleeped and I read ‘Goodbye, Sam.’

For four years, I watched my family put up happy photos of their time together on social media as they ignored me. Until one day, it was okay. I have no idea what changed, because as a family, we have never discussed it.

Was I always gay? I don’t know. All I know is that now I am happy and have everything I want because, ironically, it was easier to have the children I craved with a woman than with a man.

Over time, the rift between my family has healed; all they needed was time. My sister is back to being my rock and is a fantastic aunt to my children.

I don’t blame or have ill feelings towards them; I am glad everything has returned to normal. There are parts of my journey that I would change. Indeed, I don’t think I would have hidden my feelings for so long. I would also have told my parents before my sister. However, there is nothing that I regret. Four years of hell allowed me to find myself, be true to myself and be happy and loved for the first time.

When I look at my partner’s and children’s faces, I know that I am exactly where I should be and everything happened for a reason. That reason was finding my true self.