The closet door is now open, non-fiction by senior Brooke Schuessler

Coming out to yourself is hard. Telling yourself that you’re something you never thought you were before, is hard. For me, I was gay, not a bad thing but something I had to come to terms with. I’ve been living with that information for a few years now in what we call “the closet”.

Being a woman is oppressing enough; with things like pink tax, lower pay grade, less general human rights, and having to do everything for “the man” I can’t even walk around Walmart without being judged for the way I dress, talk, and act. I am seen as lesser in public but doesn’t compare to how much my father sees it. He constantly likes to compared to my brothers, and make sure I know that I should do all the “woman’s work”. For example, my dad likes to complain about how I don’t do anything around the house when his two sons are sitting on their butts and I just got home from work, then dance. My oppressions from being a woman is something I can’t change, it just is.  But figuring out and putting myself in another minority is life changing.

“I can’t like girls, that’s not possible,” I told myself over and over again for three whole years.

I completely denied it and refused to believe it. To help hide my gay, it was boys, boys, boys all the time. I dated boys, kissed boys, talked about boys constantly. I most definitely sounded, looked, and acted like a boy crazy teenage girl.

After all the boy talk and exhaustingly pressing down my feelings all day, I would come home to my usual nightly routine: curl up in bed, and watch “lesbian short films” and LGBT movies on Youtube. I would always choose that route because it was easy to hide and get rid of. Every time I would click on another video I would feel so weak and annoyed with myself. But I couldn’t hide the comfort it gave me. Knowing I could get rid of it was calming, and seeing those gay girls kiss and love each other was comforting. Those people were so happy and in love. It showed me that you can have a happy and fulfilled life, even with being LGBT. But, since I didn’t want to believe I was gay I would clear all my old watched videos and history of the gay stuff. Kind of like it was porn or the black market. I would do this to prove to myself that it was something I wasn’t, that I could just delete my feelings like I did the videos. Also, not having on my history meant my family couldn’t see it and it wouldn’t pop up in my recommended. Deleting was the best feelings and gave me such a feeling of power and control of my feelings. My feelings would get all jumbled up and the tears would start rolling down my cheeks.

“Why do you keep doing this, keep watching these? You are not gay. You do not like girls. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT.”

Denial of something so big, one of the biggest things of my life, and significant made me very miserable, lonely and sad. I had so much self-pity and built up aggression from pretending to be someone I’m not and from continuing to feminize my body for years. Dresses, skirts, pink headbands, and heels filled my closet. An everyday outfit consisted of a skirt, leggings under, a flowery tee shirt and normally my vans. Now you can see me I’m sweats, tees, still vans- my one true love- bandanas and self-confidence.

“The closet” is a dark and gloomy place. But before you come out to anyone else, you have to come out to yourself first. Sadly, that was the hardest part for me.

These dark, self-doubting, self-deprecating, thoughts taking over causing me to break down and feel worthless. That would happen at least once a week. During those times I would just completely disappear from the world. Stop talking to friends and family. My dog and a black notebook became my only friends. That notebook holds years of feelings, stress, anxiety. Whenever I was having a bad day or night, Id write in it. Quotes, lyrics, my own thoughts. That notebook can with me to therapy sessions, for 4 years. Blood, tears, and ink smudges covering the pages. When I go back into a dark mind space I read it to remind myself that it got better and that I’m okay.

Not only was I dealing with my sexuality but I had anxiety, depression, and minor eating disorders for making it worse. My grades started slipping and I lost a good amount of friends. Alone, was the constant and only feeling I was able to actually feel and react to. It got so bad and I got so in my head that suicide sounded like the better option.

“You would be better off dead than gay. You would be a family disappointment. Your parents will for sure disown you and kick you out of the house. Your friends will leave you and you will end up all alone exactly like you are now.”
Some nights that was just about the only thing swimming around in my head all night. From the therapist to the counselor, nothing helped. In the LGBT community, the suicide rates are, sadly, very high, including a high suicide attempt rate. Due to homophobic tendencies, attacks, and bullying, most LGBT teens have so much self-doubt and are scared to come out. That’s why people in the community stay “in the closet” for as long as they do.

All of those feels and thoughts changed the night I met her.

She changed my life. She made me want to hold her hand in public. She made me want to change. But most importantly she helped me figure out who I truly was and how I truly felt.

My first love, FL if you will, was a girl. A beautiful, tall, funny, amazing girl. The funny thing is, we never dated. Texts, face times, posts, “you’re the one, my soulmate”, and I never even kissed the girl, I really regret not ever kissing her, even know I really, really, really wanted to. Her name, Caroline, even a beautiful name. We become close over strawberry-banana smoothies, and half-naked bike rider dudes, on the warm nights of August. Windows down, 2013 One Direction blaring through the whole car. Unnecessary back roads were taken so our time together could be longer. We definitely had a rom-com summer love. Sometimes we would just chill in her car drinking blue slushies after school and before work. Sit in the Quick Trip parking lot talking, laughing.

“4:36, I have to go to dance,” I say, you can hear the sadness in my voice.

Giggles, conversations about life, the future, and how Caleb Brown sucks started up again.

“4:48, I have to go to work.”She replies, sweetly yet sadly.

This is when it got sad, hand holding, puppy dog looks, and comfortable silence, we knew our time together was almost over.

It’s now 5:06 and we are both late. Neither of us really care. We finally go our separate ways and try to figure out a good excuse on why we were late this time. During one of those times I realized: I loved her. I have completely and fully fallen head over heels for the girl. She made me the happiest I have been in a long time and she taught me to not be ashamed in myself if it meant my own happiness.

I waited a long time to come out to friends, I had to figure out my own life, of course. I started to tell them the first semester of my junior year, or was it the second semester of sophomore year? Either way, it wasn’t a quick thing. A person a week, I couldn’t do it all at once. I couldn’t handle the constant thought of rejection, by all of them, all at once. At the time, I had a few really solid and really good friends. There were about five of them, actually. Nigel, Sam, Karl, Riley, and Michael. All of these pals are still by my side even now. Telling them was pretty difficult but definitely not the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. They are all pretty accepting of me and my life choices, as long as it isn’t drugs or like murder. When coming out to them, I got the “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” talk with each of them. A couple of them didn’t even seem phased by it.

“Yeah Brooke, I knew. We all knew. I was just waiting for you to come to the realization of it,” my best friend at the time, and still very close friend, Riley told me when I came out to her.

Riley was the first yet hardest to come out to. I have slept in the same bed as her, cuddled with her, even seen her naked backstage at dance recitals. I was so afraid she would get weird, get mean, get mad, at me for doing all those things, and leave me. But she didn’t. Riley ann stood by my side and we have been for 6 years, after I came out we did drift slightly while I grew who I was and continued to find myself. She got a boyfriend and now does the same. It was a healthy, smart, and okay kind of drift. We still text every day and she never asks until it is brought up. I do the same with her boyfriend drama. Ugh, boys, always causing that unnecessary, extra drama. With two brothers, many male friends, male mentors, my dog, and lizard are even boys. So, for being a gay girl my life revolves and relies on boys. With two brothers, many male friends, male mentors, my dog, and lizard are even boys.

My absolute best friend, Nigel, is a boy. Yes, he does, in fact, have cooties. I never really came out fully to him. I never actually said,

“Nigel, I’m gay”

The night he found out I was having a whole break down. My heart ached; I was a complete teary-eyed mess. I told him literally everything. Everything about Caroline, how I miss her, how I still desperately want her and how I don’t like my boyfriend and being with him. Of course, he was completely and fully supportive. He called me and completely calmed me down.

A very very short list of people in my family knows I’m gay. That list includes; my little brother, my very nosey, eavesdropping cousin, and my pretty darn amazing mother. When I finally came out to my mom I was the ripe age of eighteen years old, and I did in the worst way possible, through a text message. The conversation went something like this:

“Mom,” I, very nervously, texted to her.

“Brooke,” she simply replied back.

“I have something to tell you,”

“Ahh ok”

“Okay, so I know that texting you isn’t the best way to do this but I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now and I’m scared to do it in person because of the possible reaction. I really hope you don’t get mad at me or anything because of this and it very much could change a lot of things about us. Okay so, mom I am gay. Not like Preather gay or anything but I do in fact like girls.im not sure what to call it or anything like that because as you know I like boys too but yeah. I thought I should tell you because I’ve known since seventh grade. I know I shouldn’t be scared because I know you won’t hate me but I still was scared to tell you and I’m sorry I waited so long to do so. I’m trying to figure out my life and for me to be able to do that I have to be completely honest with myself and you.”

That was probably the hardest thing I have had to do thus far in my teenage life, besides coming out to myself. I did tell the slightest of a lie, I don’t really like boys. I’m a good ninety-eight percent strictly lesbian and that the other two percent was for boys. But to make it slightly easier for myself I did not include that part. It made it easier at that moment but I know it will affect my future. I will most likely have to come out all over again to her and everyone else.

My brother, on the other hand, was a complete accident. I was talking to my love interest at the time and said something about wanting to make out with her and he just subtly asked

“Wait, Brooke. You’re gay? I don’t really care.”

So that was pretty rad, and now I don’t feel so alone in my own home.

Right now, February 2019, it feels so good to be me. Of course, my heart still skips a beat when someone who doesn’t know asks me about boyfriends, dates, etc. I spent most nights texting and Snapchatting my favorite little gal pals. My gay friend ration has grown a little bit and I could not be any happier about it. Brianna, Anne, Claire, Adam, Savannah, they just get me and know what I’m going through, because either they are going through the same or they already went through it. My support system is great and I love each of them with such a great passion. I have no idea what I do without them behind me all the time. I no longer feel uncomfortable checking girls out in public or holding my significant other’s hand. The growth, and overall understanding, that I have made with myself and my sexuality these past few years is crazy. If I could go in time and tell little-closeted Brooke that it will be okay, it will be okay, I think my life would be different. But that did not happen.

So, I have had to settle on being different because of my life and my past struggles. Yes, this is very cliche, but it is true, everything will get better, maybe not now, maybe not soon, but somewhere down the road, it will be okay. I have to remind myself of that all of the time, but at this point in life, I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.