The Hardest Words

Yesterday,
I finally admitted it to myself.

Not whispered.
Not hinted.
Not hidden behind maybe.

I said the words.

I am gay.

And for one beautiful moment,
everything felt lighter.

Then I thought about my parents.

The weight came crashing back.

How do I tell them?

Do I sit them down
at the kitchen table?

Do I blurt it out
between commercials?

Do I write a letter
and leave it on their bed?

What if they just stare at me?

What if they cry?

What if they tell me
it's a phase,
a mistake,
a misunderstanding?

What if they think
they did something wrong?

What if they think
I did?

A darker thought arrives,
one I hate even as I think it.

What if they don't want me anymore?

What if they look at me
and see someone different?

Someone broken.

Someone they never wanted.

I know it sounds dramatic.

But at three in the morning,
alone in the dark,
every fear feels possible.

Should I just keep it secret?

Wouldn't that be easier?

Nobody gets hurt.

Nobody gets upset.

Nobody asks questions.

I could just lock it away
and pretend.

Except every time I imagine that,
I feel myself disappearing.

And I don't want to disappear.

Then another question comes.

Do I look gay?

Can they tell?

Have they noticed the way
I never talk about boys?

The way I light up
when certain girls walk into a room?

The way I suddenly become interested
in activities and events
that happen to include one particular person?

Have they already figured it out?

Have they known for years
while I was busy trying to solve
the mystery myself?

Maybe my mother knows.

Maybe my father knows.

Maybe they are simply waiting
until I am ready.

Or maybe they have no idea at all.

And that uncertainty
is terrifying.

Because right now
I can imagine a hundred reactions.

A hundred futures.

Some wonderful.

Some heartbreaking.

And I won't know which one is real
until the words leave my mouth.

So I stand at the edge
of the biggest conversation
I have ever had.

My heart racing.

My hands shaking.

My stomach in knots.

Thinking the same thought
over and over again.

I am so fucking scared.

Not because I'm ashamed
of who I am.

Not anymore.

I'm scared because I love them.

And when you love someone,
their opinion matters.

Their acceptance matters.

Their embrace matters.

So I take a breath.

And another.

And another.

Knowing that someday,
when I am ready,

I will tell them.

Not because I am fearless.

But because the truth deserves
to be spoken.

Even when your voice trembles.

© Susie Stiles-Wolf