What Happens When You Finally Say the Thing You've Been Scared To Admit

"MUM & DAD, I'M GAY"

Ugh! Gay? Me?! Noooooo, I was never going to admit that.

For nearly 10 years I hid this part of myself. I was so ashamed and didn't want anyone to find out.

Now, I speak about it like I can talk about what kind of coffee I drink. (Single shot latte, if you're wondering. No double shots, I legitimately can't cope 😂)

Anyway, I digress. Let's explore what's behind the thing you don't want anybody to know about you. ↓

Photo by Iswanto Arif on Unsplash‍ ‍

FEAR

We all have something within us that we're afraid to share with others.

Sometimes it's something that was done to us. Sometimes it's something we did. Sometimes it's directly connected to who we are.

We're ashamed, guilty, and often times responsible for what happened, even if we were on the receiving end of destructive behaviour. Sometimes, we're even just scared of what other people will say when they find out our darkest secret.

For some, this secret is from their past, buried deep down. They never talk about it, claiming that it's been and gone. These people often become highly effective in other areas in order to cope, but they can't slow down or relax, because slowing down means having to feel, and they're not ready to do that.

For others, it's worn in their day to day life. It's written on their face; their body showing very obvious signs of struggle. They're living it in real time, like it just happened. These people often become withdrawn and quiet, claiming they're naturally an introvert. Either way, they're not entirely happy and their mind cannot find peace.

This post explores how hiding our truth can hold us back, and offers a very simple approach to freeing yourself, enabling you to move on and feel at peace with who you are and/or what happened.

COMING OUT: A ROOM OF STRAIGHT MEN

I came out as a gay man to my friends and family when I was 23, but it took me more than a decade to feel completely comfortable with my sexuality. Throughout those 10 years, I still felt like I was coming out. New work group? Time to come out. Meet someone new? Come out. Attend a workshop or seminar? Come out.

There were many places where I did feel comfortable as myself, but there was still some situations where I would still err on the side of caution. I was happy enough, but wasn't truly free, and my mind was evidence of that.

Thankfully, some years ago, I decided at the last minute to attend a weekend men's retreat. Upon arriving and meeting some of the guys, I took a rough guess… I was the only gay man in attendance. Most of the other men were ‘blokey blokes’, essentially, masculine men, many with a wife and kids.

I quickly discovered a new level of fear.

I wasn't in a gay club anymore. I wasn't surrounded by guaranteed love and acceptance, I was surrounded by what I perceived to be the greatest threat to my safety: a group of straight, masculine men that I didn't know.

They outnumbered me and I couldn't hide.

I could lie, and use neutral terms like partner and relationship instead of girlfriend or wife. I'd done that for years so it would be easy for me to pick up this language and use it to stay safe. But very quickly I felt my internal voice whisper: this was what I was here to overcome.

After the first workshop, we were invited to share in our small groups, and then share in front of everyone. We weren't forced to share, but we were encouraged. The topic?

Say the thing we were most afraid of other people finding out.

I could feel my body shake and my mouth quivered thinking about saying words I'd said hundreds of times before. I shared in my small group circle. Part one - complete. No-one said anything.

We broke off for dinner. About thirty men all sitting around a giant table. I could swear all the men I had just come out to were avoiding me. One in particular who I had already felt a bond with said nothing. I was convinced he was ignoring me and that our friendly connection had come to an end. I joined in the general conversation at the table, fitting in like I had done for most of my life. I wasn't outwardly sad either, on the contrary I smiled and pretended like I was fine. But I was hiding how I really felt. I was scared and I wasn't going to let anyone know.

We finished dinner and the small groups became one big group, ready for shares.

The facilitator spoke. "OK, who wants to go first?" I quickly looked around the room. Nobody put their hand up. My hand shot up. Take the pain early, I thought to myself. Just get it done.

I walked up with jelly legs and a level of fear I hadn't felt in years. Here I was about to come out again. But it wasn't to one person, or in an environment where I felt entirely safe. It was legitimately my biggest fear playing out in real time, and I chose to face it.

"The thing I'm scared to admit and don't want anyone to know is... I'm gay. I've been out for years, but I'm scared in this room. Scared to be the only gay guy in a group of straight men. I'm afraid of what you will say about me. Scared I won't be liked or accepted. Scared of being rejected.”

The room seemed to freeze, thirty pairs of eyes all on me waiting for what happened next. Nothing happened. As it is with situations like this, I was thanked for sharing and the next person was invited up to share.

There it was, out in the open. I couldn't take it back now, and I've got two full days up ahead with a bunch of straight blokes who now know I'm gay. I'm glad I've spoken up, but I'm fucking terrified of what can happen from here.

We all go to bed that night, and nothing has been spoken about what I shared. My thoughts are running wild with fear, afraid of what might happen over the next couple of days, and I somehow manage to fall asleep.

The next morning we're straight into the next activity. All the boys are being nice to me but nobody has spoken about what I shared. I'm still scared. The fear has started to dissipate, but I'm still in my head, as I haven't yet had evidence of these guys accepting or rejecting me. This goes on for the next two days. Two days of navigating waves of fear and doubt. It's not exactly the kind of experience I thought I would have during this weekend.

The final afternoon comes around. I feel like I've made some new friends, but I can't be sure if this is just existing for this retreat or if this is genuine connection.

The invitation to share about our experience is offered once again. This time I don't say anything, instead I'm in pure amazement with what gets said.

Multiple men all speak about their experience of me, and how I set the tone for the whole weekend. They spoke about my courage, my ability to lead, my ability to speak my truth even though I was afraid. They shared how that helped them open up about what was troubling them, and that what I did, and who I was in that moment was the shining example.

On our final goodbyes, I'm met with open arms, words of appreciation and hugs that felt safer and more genuine than anything I'd experienced before. I had broken through a deeper level of fear saying what I was afraid to admit, and my payoff was the feeling of pure elation, a quieter mind, and a new sense of safety in simply being me.

A PERSONAL REFLECTION

I feel blessed that I received a positive response, as I know from personal experience that this isn't always the case, however what I learned from this experience helped me come to a deeper space of peace.

Up until then, I had still rejected parts of myself. Internalized homophobia. Being gay but being scared of it. Not completely being happy with being gay. I rejected that part of myself. For most of my life, I had essentially allowed what I thought other people thought of me to overpower what I thought of me.

I realized no-one had said anything after I shared openly because it was a non-issue for these men. I am aware that this situation was a men's retreat, and there were facilitators there who were holding the space with a level of love and respect, but to my nervous system, thanks to experiences in my past, I didn't feel safe to be authentic self in that space. I felt I was under threat.

Being courageous in the face of a perceived threat, no matter what it is, remains one of the most challenging things we get to face as humans. The evidence: a world full of people who say "I'm fine!" instead of sharing openly about how they really feel.

Coping with the life they've got, afraid to share what feels true to them, or what happened to them, or what they did...

I've been in enough rooms that provide the opportunity to share openly and honestly, and I can say that every single person struggles with sharing something. In fact, the people who on first glance seem to have it altogether, are often the ones with a secret, a heavy burden they've been carrying for most of their lives.

Fortunately, I've spoken openly and honestly about some of the biggest challenges in life in these rooms, and with my family, friends and even online. Speaking about such things hasn't always had a positive response from others, however, it's helped me feel more like me. More alive. More free. At peace.

SPEAKING YOUR TRUTH

When we hold onto our truth, whether that's about who we are, what happened to us or something we did to someone else, we become someone we're not and we find ways to cope. We can say we're fine. We can even seem pretty convincing. But we know ourselves if something is amiss. It's not other people we have to battle, it's ourselves.

Until we are willing to share the thing we've been scared to admit, we will fight an internal battle.

This part of my story showcases only one part of my coming out journey. You may or may not relate to this, but unless you've spoken about and/or worked through aspects of who you are and your past, there is something that's unsettling you. So if you want to end the internal battle, start with your truth.

You don't have to tell everyone. On the contrary, telling just one person, (a person you know, loveandtrust) helps. Sometimes even just saying it out loud in front of the mirror is enough initially. But if you don't say it, if you don't speak up, ever, you will battle yourself, and there will be an ongoing war in your mind that no amount of love, success, money, fame, meditation or even breath work can fix.

This is, in essence, a declaration of being who you are. What happened in the past doesn't define you, but it will until you have the courage to say "this is me" or "this happened."

Think of it as a letting go. Acknowledgement of who you are and/or what happened is the first step. And when you do that once, you start to feel a little more like yourself, and less like the version of you that's been pretending to be fine, the version you've accepted and found ineffective ways to cope (hello addictions!), because that's easier than being courageous and open and honest.

The freedom of who you are comes from sharing your truth. Your happiness in life is not dependent on what you can obtain, earn or experience, but of who you are.

So if you don't feel like you? If you're carrying a secret, something you don't want anyone to know, you will find ways to keep yourself busy as a way of distracting yourself from being with the truth. You’ll likely blame others for the way you feel. You won't be able to sit still either. You'll have to do more, because constant activity is the only antidote that distracts you from the discomfort you feel when you sit with the truth.

When your truth is spoken in safe spaces, your nervous system starts to recalibrate, and your mind quickly follows suit. You become a little more at peace with who you are and what happened, your light starts to emerge again, and you start to realize that everything you've been searching for has been within all along.

This isn’t an everything, everywhere all at once process either. It’s a gradual, step-by-step experience that requires you to choose courage.

Courage to open up, courage to let go. Do that to feel at peace with who you are and your past.

Do that to enjoy a quieter mind.