Today is the 25th anniversary of an event few people have experienced; And that’s for the better, because every day of my life for the last 25 years has been filled with fear. Putting these feelings into words and words on paper feels necessary; But the decision to submit it for publication is extremely difficult and terrifying. Will “they” be surprised? Will they post “they”? Do I really want them to? What will happen if they do? Will I lose readers and followers as I lost so many friends and the respect of my family members so many years ago?

That day began like so many other beautiful spring days in Indiana. I took my kids to their piano lessons and used the wait time to turn over some papers to one of my minor league officials. I was the president of Little League, but I didn’t Really I need to turn in those papers … I just wanted to. I still didn’t realize why it was so important to me.

After ringing the bell, an unknown woman opened the door. Suddenly I felt very bad. The woman I was actually hoping to see finally came to the door, invited me in, and gave introductions that I never heard. My ears were ringing. My heart was beating. Nausea overwhelmed me. What was he feeling and why?

When I started the way back to my children, I played the above scene over and over again in my head. What had just happened? Why was he reacting so harshly? When the answer finally took shape, I parked my car on the side of the road. So I cried and cried and cried. What he was experiencing was jealousy, but jealousy of what? What did it mean?

For the past few weeks, he had spent a lot of time with the woman he had gone to see due to the minor league results for ball games. He already knew that he was getting divorced and that the divorce had something to do with his interest in another woman. I was surprised by his earlier reveal, but not disgusted. In fact, I started looking forward to the games we work on together. I started making excuses to see her.

The recognition of the feeling she was experiencing as jealousy was too much to accept. How could he be jealous of a woman’s affection? As a woman, I couldn’t be jealous of another woman unless … unless I … unless I was “one of those” people.

When I was young, my mother would often point to “those” people (always men) and tell me they would go to HELL! My little brother was not allowed into a public restroom because there might be one of “those” people waiting there to … I was never quite sure what they would do, but I definitely got the message that “those” people did it. bad things and would be severely punished for eternity in HELL!

How could he be one of “those” people? He was 37 years old. I had a husband. He had two children about to become teenagers. He went to church every Sunday. My grandfather was a minister. This just couldn’t be happening!

For the next several weeks, I lived in a daze. I really wasn’t fully aware of what was happening around me. I cried often, lost weight quickly, and reflected on my past. Yes, it had been the typical tomboy. I had always hated frilly dresses and loved climbing trees. I hated playing with dolls, but I loved playing basketball with the kids during recess. In high school, I paid little attention to boys or girls, but I fell deeply in love with my physical education teacher. Back then, I hadn’t realized it was a crush (and now it seems so stereotyped) but it was a crush. In high school I had a “boyfriend” who was older and in the military (he was from Vietnam); and therefore I was SAFE in the sense that I didn’t have to go on dates. I hated go on dates.

During college, I dated a friend from high school; but he did not attend my university, so again, the number of appointments was limited. I became close friends with a freshman who lived in my apartment in the dorm where I was a member of the student staff. Her name was Barbara. She intrigued me because she was so different from the average “girlie” girl, and we spent a lot of time together. We often talked for hours.

Before my third year in college, my boyfriend asked me to marry him. I really didn’t want to get married, but it was what nice girls were supposed to do. My family liked him and I liked his family. So I said, “Yes.” Before my senior year, we got married. I cried throughout my wedding. Now I understand what those tears were about.

As time went on, I kept doing what I was supposed to do. I finished my bachelor’s degree in mathematics, started a teaching career, got a master’s degree in psychology, and started a family, a boy and a girl. Life seemed perfect. When my daughter was about four years old, the thought crossed my mind that “someday her father is going to be very angry.” I didn’t have the right words to apply, but I was acknowledging in her what I didn’t recognize in myself.

As I looked at my past, I realized that I had always been “fascinated” by the female partners I saw at the mall, that there was a high school girl I thought about periodically and occasionally had fleeting sexual thoughts about certain women. which I always “turn off” quickly. (“I wonder how it would feel …” or “I wish I was a man so I could …”) At the time, I really believed that all women had those thoughts.

Even with all that thought, he still couldn’t accept myself as a … dare I say it? As a lesbian? I needed to speak to someone who could understand my confusion. All my friends and family were very religious people. In fact, everyone in the city fits that description. There would be no understanding of anyone there. The person who finally came to mind was Barbara. He had moved to Colorado immediately after graduation, but because he visited his parents in Indiana and usually visited us at the same time, we stayed close. During our college days, I had always believed I was a lesbian, but we had never discussed it. I knew for a fact that I had a gay brother, so I felt like he would listen to me without telling me I was going to HELL! I called her and asked if I could visit her, saying that I needed to talk.

Barbara thought I was coming to tell her that I was going to get a divorce. When I finally mustered the strength to tell him why he was really there, he stood up and left the room. I did not understand. When he finally returned, he explained that the exact same thing was happening to him in Colorado. He had left room to reflect on why he had come into his life at that specific time and to consider telling me of his own struggles. We are both drawn to unavailable women and wondering what to do about it. As we talked, it became clear that lesbian etiquette was undeniable. A new life, along with their set of fears, began for both of them.

We started looking for useful information in lesbian bookstores. He didn’t even know such a thing existed. We discuss the ramifications. As teachers, we were painfully aware that if anyone found out, we would lose our jobs. I had the added complications of a husband and children. Could you stay married and pretend to be straight? If I decided I can’t, will my children be taken away from me? At the time, lesbians were considered unsuitable for raising children.

I returned to Indiana with very few responses. My husband took care of the first question a few days after I got home. One night after we went to bed, she turned to me and said, “Are you a lesbian?” I was momentarily shocked and fell silent. I finally got a shaky “Why do you ask that?” “I found this book,” she replied as she pulled out my newly purchased “Our Right to Love.” I thought I had hidden this book so carefully in a cupboard that it never opened. I remember looking up at the sky and thinking, “Thanks for your help!”

I had never lied to my husband. He was my best friend. So, I told him the truth. “That depends on your definition. If you ask me if I have had sexual relations with a woman, the answer is no. If you ask me if I now identify as a lesbian, a woman who prefers the company of a woman, then the answer is yes. “. To his credit, my husband was wonderful. We talked late into the night. He understood that this was not something he could fight with. We discuss options and ramifications. I told her that I felt like I needed to move to Colorado Springs both to be close to Barb and to get away from Indiana. He initially decided to move in with us and helped us move and settle in Colorado. In the end, he decided that he couldn’t stay in Colorado; but I will always be grateful for your help and support. I still wish we could have remained best friends as promised.

Life in Colorado has been more difficult and terrifying than I had ever imagined. A bitter divorce, constant financial worries, raising 2 children without their father, building a new relationship with a woman, dealing with my partner’s problems around child abuse, teaching in the fear of discovery environment created by Focus On The Family and Amendment 2, raising a lesbian daughter, raising a teenage son in a house full of women, learning to accept myself as a lesbian, learning to be a lesbian, having no friends, and constantly fearful for the safety of all of us were just some of the problems we faced; and all this will be material from another article.

Initially, the decision to write and submit this article seemed very difficult; but when I think of young people who are bullied at school, who question who they are, who are expelled from their own homes, who feel that there is no hope and who think that suicide is their only option, the right decision is obvious. . I will always feel very sad for my students who obviously, for me, needed help but did not get it due to my own fears. I still feel ashamed of myself for not being stronger back then. Now I understand that we all must FIGHT AGAINST FEAR. We must do it for those who will follow us. Hopefully, one day, no one will have to live in fear for what it is!

Am I afraid to press the SEND button? Absolutely! Barbara has seen me cry while writing and relived it mentally. She just asked if I want to reconsider. Absolutely not! But when I wonder why I have not written this before, the answer is that I have been afraid. Why can I write it now? I just have to. One of the magazines I write for chose FEAR as the topic of the month … and sadly, I have become an expert on fear!

NOBODY SHOULD HAVE TO LIVE EVERY MOMENT IN FEAR FOR WHO THEY ARE!