Today I am responding to the letter Jared wrote me yesterday, which you can find here. In case you’ve forgotten, Jared is my new partner in crime. We’ve discovered we’re both children of gay dads {insert happy dance here, raising my glass to no longer feeling so alone}: his is deceased, and mine is…um, reading this blog.
Dear Jared,
Thank you so much for your letter. I love this dialogue we’re having, and that I’ve found someone else who identifies so closely with having a gay parent. It’s been lonely over the years. When I tell people my dad is gay, I’m often met with blank stares, odd questions or a sudden change in subject.
You asked about my relationship with my dad and I’ve realized it’s been a journey full of unexpected twists and turns, but always with love at the end.
He came out when I was 15 and my emotions ran the gamut. I felt everything from anger and resentment to confusion and curiosity. His timing couldn’t have been worse, as I was just beginning to forge my own path and learn who I was. It was like everything I’d ever known turned on itself. Only a few vivid memories of this period in my life remain; the rest is a blur of little things: smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook, tumbling waves stealing treasures from the shore, or a lone bird feather lying in the dirt.
My first futile attempts at self injury happened around this time. No one knew, and even I was unaware there was a name for what I was doing. I used a clumsy pair of scissors, creating an external physical pain to try and numb the internal torment.
After I left for college storm clouds rumbled as I began feeling the full effects of my dad’s disclosure. Depression settled in with a heaping side dish of self-doubt and an identity crisis of my own. I figured if my dad was gay and capable of pretending all those years, then maybe I was just pretending, too? A close friendship had me very confused and questioning myself. Ultimately I couldn’t keep my secret in anymore. I told my friend I had some strong feelings for her; subsequently I lost her, got her back, and then since the inception of this blog have lost her forever.
My dad and I have a pretty average relationship these days. We’re not super duper close, nor are we estranged. He lives in Mississippi and I’m in Kansas, so we talk by phone twice a month and see each other a few times a year. Saying this makes me feel sad and guilty because your father has passed and you don’t have the same opportunities I do. I’m sorry for that, Jared. Though my dad and I have had our issues, I’m lucky he’s still around and only a phone call away. My heart aches for you and your loss.
There is so much more I could say, but this is only one letter. And hey, if we are going to write that book? We’d better save some of the juicy stuff!
Cheers!
Erin
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