Words to come out by

A reader response to "Dear Mom, I'm gay..."

Today’s Dear Queer Abby (DQA) is a departure from our usual Q&A… and I think you’re going to love it! I believe strongly in the power of language (obviously) and understand that the right words can be healing, while the wrong ones can cut deep. That’s why, when there is the opportunity to share language and offer words that have been helpful to others in our same situations, we should do so.

Heck, a major motivator behind writing Perfectly Queer is because I needed to put language around what coming out was actually like for some people—the amount of thought and internal debate that goes into it, the fears of people’s reactions, the utter joy and self-love we may feel to finally be closer to our true nature, the harmful effects of internalized homophobia and compulsory heterosexuality. I wanted to share all of it so that people could stop asking questions like:

“Why do you feel the need to ‘come out’? Straight people don’t do that!”

“How did you not know you were gay?”

“Are you sure you just haven’t found the right guy?”

“Is this a midlife crisis? Are you bored in your marriage?”

If you’re part of the later-in-life-lesbian/gay/queer/trans community, you know that this list goes on and on. My words didn’t change minds overnight, but they did spark new conversations, new questions, and more curiosity. I’ll take the “W” on that.

Below is a link to my last DQA column (Dear Mom, I’m gay), followed by a reader submission of a letter she wrote to her conservative mother after coming out. I hope that her words bring you some comfort and that, in her letter, you find some language that may be helpful to you in your own process.

Dear Mom, 

I suspect that what I told you last night was hard for you to hear, which is understandable! It may take some time to process. However, I’m really thankful that you did the best you could to reserve judgment and try to roll with it in the conversation like you did, so graciously. 

You might have questions you want to ask me. You might not be interested in asking questions or hearing the answers. Either way, it is okay. I’ll give you time and you can decide.

But I do hope you understand one thing: this is a triumph for me. I avoided telling you. I was nervous to tell you. But I finally told you. And we made it through that pretty well, I think. I hope that this is just the beginning of more openness between us.

Last night, when I told you I was dating a woman, I felt your reflexive shock, and heard fear in your voice. “But everyone I know that is gay wishes they weren’t! Their lives have been so hard.” And I heard you struggling to understand why, blaming it on Dad for not loving me enough as a kid. You seemed to feel like I was delivering bad news, instead of the amazing happy news that it is for me. I would love nothing more than to have you celebrate this with me. 

I want to point out something really important. Here is what I did NOT say: “I’m dying of cancer.” I said, “I’m in love and I’m really happy.” In fact, this is the first time I really understand what the big deal is about love. I was always just going along and trying to be excited about it, like I thought I was supposed to. It never occurred to me that I was essentially pretending to feel something I didn’t feel. Of course, I had some lovely relationships with guys over the years. And with Joe, he just checked all the boxes at a time everyone was getting married and having kids. But it was never really love, and, if you recall, I have broken up with every single guy I was ever with. I just never really felt it.

I have quite a bit of grief about that - how hard I tried, trying to feel something more than I felt.

A couple of summers ago, I told you about the terrible depression I had been through, but I had to wait until I was better to tell you. You wondered why I didn’t tell you in the moment. Why didn’t I let you in? Ask for help? Anyone with depression will tell you why. It’s because you are convinced no one can help you, and that is just one of the excruciating characteristics of true depression. And it wouldn’t let go of me until I listened to that little flicker inside saying, “Let go of your suffering.” 

That day in Maine, you listened to my story kindly and compassionately. It meant so much to me to be able to share it with you. 

It was bleak for me there for a while. All the suppression (of so many things) built up to a level I couldn’t withstand. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Obviously, medication helped me quiet all my big feelings over the years. And then I didn’t have access to that tool, and the feelings came back, with a vengeance. It was very, very scary.

But little by little, I began to understand that part of the reason I felt so empty was that I had driven my life in the direction others seemed to think was the best for me, without stopping to pay attention to what I really wanted. I realized how lost I felt. Even though I had a successful career in others’ eyes, I felt I had really not made anything of my life, with the exception of being a good mom. (Which is a lot, but it is not everything.) 

It's clearly been painful for you that we haven't been close. For me too, but in a different way. I have hidden big things from you because I believed that all it would do would be to stir up fear for you.  I am very sorry to be the source of any pain for anyone, but especially you, as the person who brought me into the world. 

I did most of my later-in-life “becoming” quietly, because I knew instinctively that there were things I could learn only by listening inward. I had to lean into my own heart and be brave and really listen to figure out the source of my deep angst. I knew there was something big and important that needed to be born. As it turns out, there were many things that needed to come out, my sexuality being only one of them.

But the best part is that none of them are actually scary, because I’m not afraid anymore. 

I truly believe this, with all of my heart: there is nothing to be afraid of! 

Mom, I’m a 50 year-old woman with 2 healthy young adult sons, a job, a mortgage, and a dog. I fought my way out of a 20-year extremely ill-fitting marriage. I am very, very proud of myself for making it through and getting to the place where I can thrive. I am healthy, strong, and happy, and I don’t plan to ever go back to limping along in life. I am solid alone, and I have everything I need to be in a good relationship, too. I can finally see myself in my own future, and I feel great about my trajectory and how I can be a better mom and a better person because I am more me. 

In closing, if love is the most important thing, and I don't think either of us would argue with that, I’ve no doubt we both have plenty of it to give. Add a heavy dose of acceptance (on both of our parts) and we should be able to do better at making this relationship a source of good feelings. Don’t you think?

Xo,

Laura

And one last thing, because I’m me, and I am cheeky and like to make people laugh. 

Public Service Announcement: being queer has nothing to do with one parent or another doing anything right or wrong. Or else YOU and everyone else in our family would also be queer! 🤪

A special note from Laura to you, reader:

Hi there fellow Queeries:) I hope my words may help even just one person! I started coming out at 50 and the whole thing took a couple of years and that is AOK. There is no one right way or timeframe. Go at your own pace. I hope you’ll be happy to hear that being me has brought so much joy. My little heart just wouldn’t let me go, so that I could get on the other side and love a woman!

I’m slowly resuming work on a project I started back in 2023 but put on the back burner. It’s a book that will elevate late-in-life lesbians’ stories, in their owns words (and I can help you with that if it’s scary!). I intend to call it: “Wait. What? You’re a LESBIAN now??” (that’s a direct quote from both of my teenage sons, and they weren’t together when I told them!). If you’re interested in submitting your story, or even just being buds, or need an ear / shoulder, you can reach me at waitwhatbook@gmail.com

Thank you, L for sharing your heartfelt message with us… along with your fabulous offer to be a part of your book! I have no doubt that your words will help another.

With so much love,