16. Inviting In, Part 3

Coming out is getting easier.

Yesterday, I decided to open up to two friends who live in my town. Due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control (i.e., our young children running about likely setting fire to local buildings), I couldn’t come out to them both at the same time. Although this is a bit unfortunate — my mother says that, while thinking about when I will come out to my dad, she “realized it would be better in person and probably with someone present who could support him during and after,” as she found it nice to have other people in the room when I told her — I figured if I had the opportunity to come out at all I should assume it is as good a time as any that I could expect to have (frankly, any time where one adult can say anything of substance to another adult while there are children storming around them is as good a time as they will likely be able to hope for, at least until those children get to the age of “get out of my room/ugh, you’re so annoying/leave me alone!” Have I mentioned that I find teenagers endearing?). Fortunately, one of my partners (the same one who was present when I came out to my mom) happened to be there as well, and perhaps was able to offer that third-party stability that is evidently so valuable.

The process followed what has started to become a pretty consistent pattern: I perform some half-baked attempt as shifting the conversation towards coming out (in this case, literally “…speaking of closets…!”), I make my proclamation, I give space for the other person to ask whatever questions they want (followed up, more frequently each day, by “you should read this blog I’m writing: it has all the answers to your questions and more!”).

There were a short series of curios questions about what I am doing or planning to do (all of which are answered here, by the way), if I am looking to be addressed/referred to differently (here), and whether I expect to be presenting myself dramatically differently any time soon (here). One point I made sure to emphasize is that I am not currently out to anyone else in my local town (for various personal/political/reputational reasons), but that I would be coming out to folks sometime this year (largely due to the likelihood that, post FFS, it will be impossible to pretend something is not happening).

The Fallout

When I’ve asked for help or support for things in the past, I have noticed that I often feel as if there is some unspoken (and likely self-inflicted and one-sided) agreement of “since I have asked this thing of someone else, it is my obligation now to feel the weight of that burden I have placed upon them.” Essentially, my asking for something makes me feel that I am taking something away from the other person, whether that be money, time, attention, or anything else. Of course, I think it is reasonable to ask for things, and it is fine to offer things, and in each of these situations I have felt that everyone feels good about the interaction (or “exchange,” I suppose). So, I have expected to feel similarly here: “I am trans, [and therefor I am asking you, as someone I am telling this to, to help me feel as if I am not isolating myself and have the support and continued friendship indicative of not torpedoing the relationship that I have had with you until now, as well as helping me build hope that I won’t be isolating myself from others as I continue to tell more and more people].” However, this has not been my experience, and each new person I have come out to has shown me more and more of what I actually should be expecting each time I have this conversation.

One thing I have started to notice is that where I expected to feel emotionally indebted to those I come out to, I have instead been treated as though those people have felt as if they have been gifted with something special. I am sure it doesn’t go quite that far, but the difference between what I expected to feel like and how I have actually been feeling after talking to people is large enough to make the latter seem like a gift by comparison. When people say things like “I felt honored,” or “you have my support and my love. I care about you and your family,” or “I'm glad you've got the inkling of being on the right path,” or “I’m proud of you,” or even “you are certainly the better friend, as I am reticent to share as openly and as honestly as you. I'll try to be better,” I feel much more like I am not burdening people with the responsibility of support. My therapist had said that I should consider viewing coming out as a gift to other people (which, while expressing acceptance of that idea to him, I internally felt it was a rather saccharine perspective), and it appears that, at least to some degree, he is right.

Where to Next?

So, from here, I suppose I will start considering who all I have not yet come out to and how I should work to address that. I expect I’ll be telling the remainder of my family (my dad) and childhood friends next. I imagine they will react similarly to everyone else I have already told, and I’ll be left wondering why I didn’t do it sooner. The community here in town… that may take longer, as it’s a more varied bunch of people who are progressive and… less so. But it is on my mind, and I know I can’t wait forever.

But in the meantime, I can’t overstate how much it has meant (and continues to mean) to me to have people I have told treat me how they have. And if you’re reading this (at least as of January, 2024), that includes you.