I’ve been resisting coming out of my closet. Not the closet, just my closet. Yet, after being relentlessly hounded by my peers, I eventually came to see what they saw. I came to see that I was inhibiting my own progress by keeping a big part of myself hidden. I wasn’t exactly trying to hide, but I wasn’t trying very hard to be seen, either.
Once I understood that I wasn’t going to accomplish anything by living a closeted life, I decided they were right. It was time to come clean about who I am. If I wanted to move forward with my goals and my dreams, I needed to emerge from my secret little sanctuary and declare to the world that I am, well…. uh…. er….um…. a writer.
I know what you might be thinking. Yes, I realize that there are closets that are more difficult to emerge from than this one, so I am not expecting any sympathy. I only hope that I don’t end up being in need of it later, should I discover that it was actually the vacuum cleaner attachments and winter coats that were doing the writing all along. If that ends up being the case, I am not too proud to move back into the closet. That is, if they’ll have me.
For now, though, we’ll see how it goes living out in the fresh air and sunshine, where the birds are singing sweet arias to usher in the day and the trees are swaying to the beat of the rhythm of life. I have no idea what may come of it, but that is the exciting part! Now, I don’t know what I was so afraid of. With the sun’s rays streaming down on me, I am beginning to warm to the understanding that coming out is more about living in the freedom of who I was created to be, than about how others might view me.
Coming out has nothing to do with trying to gain acceptance or approval. Coming out is simply about being true to yourself. It is about living honestly and freely, and although it can be scary, it is really quite effortless. It is as simple as turning the door knob and stepping across the threshold into a vast sea of possibility. The real risk, it turns out, is in doing nothing.