"What if I'm wrong?"
Is this the deepest fear of everyone who comes out later in life?
Dear Queer Abby,
I know I’m queer. I’ve been processing this for the past several years. I watch all the shows, read all the books, and listen to all the podcasts nodding my head and thinking “that sounds like me.”
I’m also a woman who is married to a man. We have three kids together. Our life is good and comfortable, which makes it extra scary to leave.
I guess what I’m after is: when or how do we know if we should leave and risk losing everything we have? What if I do and I realize I was wrong this whole time?
Terrified in Tucson
Dear friend,
I thought about joining martial arts for decades. Ever since I found out my friend, who we called Ashley Applebologna (not her real name), had a black belt I knew that I wanted that same bad ass fashion accessory. There was sometime about it that called to me in a way that other activities, like tuba or scuba, did not.
In my teens and young adulthood, I would sign up for a class and then chicken out. Register. Cancel. Think about it. Feel sick and think about cheese instead.
Maybe it’s the fact that black belts were tough, strong, and confident. A bit ironic that it wasn’t until I was at my lowest life point in life, when I felt least strong and confident, that I finally showed up on the mat.
What’s the worst that can happen? I thought, remaining blissfully ignorant to the many injuries that could befall me from a swift spin kick to the head.
The first few classes were scary. Every time I had to test to level up my rank was scary. Competitions were scary. But each of these events paled in comparison to the fear I had of getting started in the first place. That mega fear kept me stuck in inaction for decades.
Ninjas Gonna Ninj
I know what you’re thinking. “Cool story, bro. But upending your adult identity and life as you know it is a bit bigger of a leap than practicing side kicks and breaking boards, dontchathink?”
It sure is. Coming out is, as my women’s network group says, a BFD (Big Fucking Deal). It is at any age, but as an adult coming out has a particular flavor of weirdness because your whole world knew you by one identity and now many of them will see you differently.
I don’t make the rules.
Entering into the dojang and showing up to train and compete was like a micro-test for me. Was I really brave enough to become this person that I wanted to be, even if I wasn’t 100% sure that I had it in me?
As much as we love to say we don’t care what others think as we get older (and for many of us, that is true to varying extents), I did wonder what people would think as a lanky, minivan-driving homeschool mom whose biggest rebellion up until that point was accidentally saying the word “shit” in front of my young kids at the grocery store when they were out of their favorite mango juice.
I digress.
Sometimes when I told people I joined martial arts, they’d laugh in surprise. Other times they’d say, “That’s cool!” in a sing-songy way that reminded me a bit of a “bless your heart” response. As my strength and confidence on the mat grew, I began to not care about their responses because I loved what I was doing and felt good doing it.
It was the thing I wanted to be for so long, but was too scared to try.
It’s Not the Same
You may be thinking— good for you, tiger, but joining martial arts a few times a week is not the same as upending your life over the sense that you’ve been identifying as someone you’re not.
You’re correct.
However, the decision to join martial arts and the decision to come out as a lesbian at 38 years old bore a surprising number of similarities.
I thought about it for years/decades. I’m the type of girl who has lots of hyper fixation hobbies that I dive into and then drop faster than Harrison Butker’s popularity with women. (Side note: do not bring up the various heavy boxes filled with glass Topo Chico bottles in our garage. I had a plan). But martial arts and lesbian thoughts and dreams filled my mind for many years. Unlike my supposed desire to crochet small animals, the call for martial arts and sapphic joy kept coming from inside the house year after year.
And when I thought they would not be a part of my life story, I felt a deep ache. Unlike taking off the apron for my raw vegan dessert business, the thought of going through life without at least experiencing these callings left me with a hollow longing inside. The thought of being an elder or on my deathbed, realizing it really was too late, haunted me.
The fear of not doing was starting to overtake the fear of doing. I had a similar fear to you— if I make this choice, what will I be leaving behind? With martial arts, the stakes were far lower. I figured the worst that could happen is I would lose my financial investment and potentially wind up in the hospital if things really got bad. With coming out, I was convinced I could lose it all.
What’s Your Worst Case Scenario
If my brain was going to play the fear game with coming out, then I was going to channel my Aries energy and dive deep into the “how bad could this get” scenarios. Turns out I could come up with some pretty dark pathways. Ones that would make me question why I haven’t gotten into the same writing genres as Stephen King or Marie Still.
Step two, though, was to examine their plausibility. If I came out, what is the likelihood that Scenario A, B, and Z would actually happen. The truth was that my biggest fears were also the most unlikely happenings.
What were my more realistic fears? Well, still things to be afraid of:
Not knowing how much time I would get with my children and if I could continue homeschooling.
Not knowing where I would get my income from and how much I would/could make.
Not knowing what my friends and family would think.
Not knowing what my housing situation would be like.
I thought my basic needs— shelter, the ability to afford food, and my community would likely all be impacted. Turns out that was true. They would all be impacted, but not in the worst case scenario ways that my mind was telling me, either.
And I was ignoring other important factors. I had things that were in my favor:
I do have a degree. I have work experience. I have the ability to learn and to lift over 50lbs. I could likely find a job doing something that would provide me income, even if I severely lacked the earning-power of my future ex who did not leave the workforce.
I had an ex who was aligned with me at keeping our kids at the center of our decision-making. That meant not ripping them away from one parent or trying to screw each other over financially.
I had people in my life who I could count on to be supportive.
Even if I couldn’t homeschool, I lived in a country with free public education. Plus, I was zones for some of the best schools in my county. It may not be our preferred path, but it might work out just fine. (Side note: It’s worked out surprisingly awesome and they’re thriving!)
The Biggest Fear of All
But none of the neat and tidy bullet points above address the biggest underlying fear of so many who come out later in life— “What if I’m wrong?”
And so I pose these questions:
So what if you are wrong? Would life be over or would life just be different? Do you think you could still figure it out? Do you think you could still take steps to move you toward a life that felt meaningful and fulfilling and beautiful? Would you never be allowed to fall in love with another human being again?
What if you never find out? What would it mean to continue your “good” life as is and carry this wonder on your back like a sack of rocks for the rest of your life? What will continuing to question your own knowing mean when it comes to your marriage, friendships, or how you raise your kids?
Only you know the answers to these questions and they most certainly aren’t easy ones. It takes a lot of calming your nervous system so that you can think with your prefrontal cortex and not your fear center, the hippocampus.
Additionally, there is something to be said about the relationship between risk and reward. Low-risk callings, like trying out martial arts just before the decade where most people’s hips start to cry, produces a satisfying reward. But those life-changing leaps are often the ones we look back on with awe and gratitude for our courage.
Can you think of any leaps, small or large that you’d taken in your own life?
Imagine if we forced ourselves and everyone in our lives to never make a mistake. What if we were never allowed to try things? Or never allowed to change— our haircuts, our careers, our friend group, or where we live?
Why is our attraction (particularly if its one that we’ve been taught to suppress or made to hide for our entire lives) the one aspect where we do not feel we’re worthy of these liberties to explore and change? Why does this become the unleapable leap for so many people?
I don’t know.
What I can tell you is that I did martial arts. Got silver at a national tournament. Got my black belt. And then I quit and did something new. That itch was satisfied and there were new leaps I wanted to take.
As for coming out, the weight of the invisible sack of rocks I never realized I was carrying is off my back now. They didn’t all come off in one load, though. It was years of taking out stone by stone of societal weight until I felt free to move through life.
I will never pick up those stones again.
With so much love,
