I just watched an episode of Queer Eye which touched on some realisations I know apply to me.

Let’s do the history lesson:

I was a very in the closet guy until I was around 20, actually terrified of being ‘me’ so perfecting an image I could become. It was always an act and, as such, I wasn’t a very good version of myself, others noticed I was still not up to their expectation and I was in no position to explain my truth to them.

My absolute conditioning was to grow up, find a nice girl and get married. Honestly, being ‘gay’ was some vague thing other people far, far away might be and it was all a bit of a joke and no one took them seriously. Most certainly it couldn’t apply to me.

So, I got married, had children. Some believed I was the perfection of a heterosexual lifestyle.

Yes, I had some male/male experience and a two year boyfriend but, despite that, being straight still remained my only realistic option.

However, this boiler had to blow at some point (clean your mind, not in that way). At 32 I admitted to myself that I was totally, without any doubt, gay. The road to leading that lifestyle had begun and would continue to grow.

By the new century I was dating guys, raising 4 kids and life was good but, it wasn’t good at the same time. I had guilt. I now wanted the desire of acceptance to be a reality but, it so obviously wasn’t. My kids suffered because of my sexuality. Over time I stepped further and further into an internalised state.

Right now I am not really enjoying being ‘me’ as I feel my priorities are always the happiness of those around me, I come a poor third, fourth or twelfth on my list of priorities.

I have allowed myself not to be known. Seems that different people would describe me totally differently like I am several people all at once depending on who is asked. Many wouldn’t know my favourite food or drink, my dress style, my music taste and so on. It absolutely amazes me if someone perceives me correctly.

Now I worry that I might repeat to my grandchildren what I did to my children, make them explain ‘me’ to others.

The me inside wants to be out and happy to be so. I want to hold my husband’s hand in the street, give him a hug when I feel the need where so ever we are but, it doesn’t happen.

Genuinely, I think I am apprehensive of being happy, concentrating on whoever I am.

It’s OK though AS LONG as I actually am making others happy in some small way. A small sacrifice to make.