So imagine my surprise when, on March 19, 2017, I heard the words “I don’t believe anymore… and I’m bisexual” come out of my mouth while on the phone with my parents.
Sometimes, in the space of a heartbeat, your soul suddenly and finally finds itself at a crossroads, and you are called upon to define the moment.
For my entire life, my true inner self — the little girl who wanted to live fully and open-heartedly, who asked questions and created and loved — was banished. I didn’t even know that she existed. But deep in my soul was a powerful and relentless hunger for freedom. For authenticity. For finally giving myself permission to become myself, for the first time in my life.
I had to save my own life. I had to tell the truth. So the words came blurting out of me.
In a dead calm voice, my dad informed me that he would no longer be paying tuition for my university and that I would come home and live with them until I chose a better… “major.” My mom cried, “why are you doing this to us?” And for the first time in forever, I felt like I could breathe again.
I made a different decision.
I didn’t go home. Home wasn’t my home anymore. Home isn’t supposed to be a place where you ever feel unsafe, and I wanted — needed — more. I didn’t know if it was even possible to support myself, but I was now ride-or-die going to try. So I did.