coming out by accident and the avalanche of relief

day 5. the urgent care visit

The first few days after my queer realization, the uneasiness I felt in my soul started to manifest into physical symptoms.

On that Monday morning commute in, I felt faint and had to stabilize myself against the sliding doors. By lunch, I was nauseous and uncontrollably gagging while waiting for the elevator.

Shit, do I have another kidney infection? Ugh. So, I messaged my team that I needed to go to urgent care ASAP.

Alas, it was not a kidney infection and maybe a stomach virus that’s been going around, but they did a blood test for safe measure. She recommended a BRAT diet, to stay hydrated, and to take the day off.

Just another day in #germeejaimee’s life. Except this time it was a little bit different. Missed call. Voicemail. Please call back regarding your lab results.

OMG, am I dying?

Physically, no. The doc said no bacterial infection, but asked if I was stressed. I said, “Kind of, nothing TOO out of the ordinary though….” (I lied).

“Well, it seems like your body was in flight-or-fight mode, nothing to be alarmed about, but you had an over-production of cortisol in your blood. When this happens, it can cause light-headedness, nausea, and loss of appetite. So try to take it easy and rest up. ”

Wow, that is new. Who knew my newfound queerness — and the anxiety-ridden aftermath of shoving it aside — could actually be registered as a biological stressor in my damn blood stream. Chill? Nope.

day 37. when mercury in retrograde accidentally outed me

A month-ish passed since that doc basically said “well, based on your chart, it seems like you’re a closeted queer”…and I truly was.

I had only come out to a handful of people, living that double-agent, on the verge of a panic attack life in plain sight.

But I was protective of this secret I was holding onto.

Scared it would be in the wrong hands.

Scared that if I didn’t even know how to define it, it would turn into a narrative that would be outside of my control.

I couldn’t necessarily come out to my closest friends and family just yet. Not because I didn’t trust them nor doubt their unwavering support, but because I wasn’t comfortable dealing with the inevitable questions and comments that I knew would come —

• Who is she? How’d you meet? Are you guys together?
• How long have you known? Do you feel like you always knew?
• How fun, your dating pool doubled! Have you ever been with a woman? Are you still going to date men?

I laugh at these now, and have the canned answers that I have learned to keep in my back pocket. But back then, I didn’t have the energy to explain the things that didn’t even occupy my mind nor heart space at the time.

I was trying to stay afloat in what felt like an identity crisis. I did not want to talk about the dating part.

I needed to talk to my queer friends who understood the experiences I was going through and I wanted to word vent to others who knew my dating history and my overly-dramatic emotions in them.

And that safety net was my private place to vent.

Until mercury in retrograde outed me. Ha.

—

As I was waiting for my burrito order, I felt this urgent need to send an out-of-the-blue text to my crush with a TL;DR update of my queer journey. And because I was who I was at the time (a dysfunctional teenager in an adult-ish body), after I sent the text, I took a screenshot, and then deleted our text thread. (I’m lame, I know, but it helped with my anxiety).

I began my walk home, listening to music, and felt a buzz on my phone. Nope, not her. Just a co-worker talking shop about a meeting. I took a screenshot of a calendar invite and sent it to her.

I got to my door and dropped my keys. I audibly laughed out loud because I remember my Co-star saying it was mercury in retrograde and to be wary of my clumsy ways.

I felt a buzz on my phone again. Nope, not her. I opened my phone and saw my co-worker respond with “wait, what?”.

Huh?

I scrolled up.

I audibly gasped.

I sent her the wrong screenshot.

I kid you not, I reacted in every possible way.

I turned on every light in my apartment (I have no idea why). Threw my burrito on the table and paced back-and-forth yelling “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, HOLY SHIT” over and over again. I just outed myself. I re-read the screenshot. Okay, so maybe I say that it was from another person??? But the context clues were there. It was me saying I was going to South Africa in two weeks. NoOOOoo. Do I ignore it? Do I let it slide? Do I just tell her?? I was sweaty. After touching every surface of my apartment, the safest place I could find was my floor, so I laid there with my heads buried in my head. Play it cool. Yeah, do that.

I responded, “oh nothing, lol that was for someone else.”

The buzz came back in 2 seconds. “Well, I don’t know who this girl is, but if you ever want to talk about it, I am here for you.”

My heart sank. Wait, What?

I did not expect to feel the way I felt in that out-of-body moment.

It felt like an avalanche of fucking relief.

Every thing I was holding on to started to pour out of me.

All the angst I tried to ignore. All the meanings I tried to define. All the what if’s. All the what now’s.

I found a home for them.

And all I could do was feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude…and then laugh and cry.

If I could feel this way after telling one person who kind of knew me, I can’t imagine what it would feel like with my inner circle who really knew me.

That accidental—cosmic—moment gave me a strength and a confirmation that I was for waiting for.

This is real. Like real, real. And this is me. And I am bi.

I finally knew what it felt like to meet this new version of me, and I never felt so fucking sure of it right then and there.

My fear felt less scary because I finally knew what was on the other side.

My own acceptance.

I was ready to step out.

(which I would learn soon enough, happens again and again and again and again, but that’s another essay.)

—

This is essay 4 of my coming out series.