my insides feel like the entrance to Diagon Alley

I’m not even sure if I want to write this post but I guess I should. About three years ago I wrote a very angsty post about coming out and while I smile at my fear of what might happen back then, I was never ashamed of that part of myself. It was simply a thing I hadn’t realised until then. And it got so much better after the first couple of people I told (which includes the internet).

I take pride in¬†how much I’m in tune with my feelings and while that is true, it’s also bullshit sometimes. Or maybe it’s not as easily explained as that because things aren’t black and white per se.

I’ve tried my hand at online dating a while ago and after a while gave up on it again. Then I tried tinder at the beginning of the year but I wasn’t really matched up with anyone until today. And while I was messaging with this woman, I freaked out and turned to my friend Katherine to help me make sense of it. I was lucky enough that she was still awake and willing to play therapist for me. We talked and she managed to put her finger in the wound I wasn’t fully aware even existed until then. It’s what friends do. I told her something about myself that I never told anyone before. Never. Not outside my journal because it’s stupid and, yes, because I am still ashamed of it.

I should just say the thing because that’s why I’m here after all. It’s not like I haven’t said it once already today. I’ve tried leaving breadcrumbs here and there on the blog for years but you’d probably need a magnifying glass to even realise they’re there unless you know what to look for.

I didn’t realise I was gay until well into my 20s. By then, everyone had already fooled around with boys and even though I had a crush on some boys during high school, I also never really connected with anyone. As much as I may have wanted it back then, it didn’t feel right. And so I never got my first kiss. Then I was 24 years old, born again baby dyke and it just got more awkward after that. Because what 20 something doesn’t know how to kiss?

According to my friend-therapist, I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. And if I told this to someone and they get all weird on me for it, they’re not worth it. The thing is, intellectually I understand all of that. I do. It doesn’t negate all the years I felt it though. It’s going to take a while to make me not feel ashamed for my lack of experience and this is only a first step to say “this is me and it’s okay”.

It’s funny what kind of information about yourself you take offence with, isn’t it?

My insides currently feel how the entrance to Diagon Alley looks when you tap the bricks in the wall and they rearrange to let you in. That’s what’s currently happening on the inside. The right bricks were tapped and now everything is rearranging to make room for that new ¬†discovery. It’s silly. I’m silly. We’re all silly creatures.

I’m not sure there is more to say at this point. I’ll have to sleep on this. Many times. And wait for my insides to settle down again. So, there you go. I think this was the last thing I haven’t blurted out on the internet about myself. The only thing I was always too ashamed to say out loud to anyone. Is this progress?

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  • sheryl

    The Diagon Alley metaphor is so perfect. Love you! It’s really awesome and admirable that you’d share this with the interwebs. <3

    • It’s not like a lot of people read this anyway. Just like rage singing and running, this is my kind of therapy. Loye you too!