Pride Month: How recognising myself as bi (really) changed my life

Disclaimer: This is NOT the typical story of how I struggled acknowledging accepting myself, to finally come out. But a journey of defining me, with goodnesses and limitations. If you're looking a story as such, internet offers literally a lot of them. Just google a bit and you'll see.

Until that day in March 6th 2017 —the day I decided to recognise I was bisexual, and also my birthday— I haven't talked too much —or even not at all— about my sexuality. Not with family, not with friends. But especially not with myself. I lived ignoring this part of my life.

Why did I? Just because. It was easier. It didn't require a lot of work. But what I really didn't know it's the fact is impossible to keep ignorant for too long. You are certain something's uncomforting you. You realise it's just too much work, but you just told yourself a lie.

Inner Monsters

Lately, I've been listening to a song from Andrew Jackson Jihad, a band from Phoenix, called People II: The Reckoning. Long story short, it kinda talks —or so I guess— about figuring out there are unknown monsters trying to destroy us. We just suppress them.

Since then, I've struggled with redefining myself, based on facts about my inner monsters, rather than what I thought I was. Because until that day, I thought I was straight, but somewhat attracted to the idea of having sex with men.

But also I thought I was an open book, a weird kind of genius, good at planning and somewhat good at executing; also a diplomat, more a person who just doesn't like drama in his life, and God knows how many more lies about myself.

Until then, I kept attaching to my past self, and suppressing those inconvenient truths, as well as looking forward to a far future, further than I can even imagine right now. Planning my life as stages, but leaving the details in blank, so I could fill them up in the way, to say I had my life solved and a solid plan for my future.

See? Convenient lies.

So, I've been hiding myself a lot of things. Like having a mild case of anxiety and a constant fear of failing, that led to a lot of procrastination and subsequent failures in my past, among other ones.

My psychologist once told me to always ask myself what for instead of asking why. This may seem pointless or even absurd, because we tend to treat those two as the same. But when you have anxiety and don't know what causes it, that subtle difference becomes essential, because you're not looking for excuses as reasons, but answers and a deep knowledge of yourself.

Is it maybe what I'm writing this for? Maybe. Maybe not. But I won't forget I wrote nearly four years ago in my journal about how I found myself frightened by the thought of dying in a stupid and completely unlikely way: in a plane. And I forgot it. I also wrote how I kept myself on the past because that didn't destroy me. But instead, I kept destroying myself, to realise then, I was a coward, an insensitive, an ignorant, and a stupid.

The bright side

I was able to begin from certain principles: "there's no such thing as absolute truth" and "there are no wrong paths, just learning".

Then, the time to change arrived. It's impossible to deny the optimism and see some good parts of it. Part of them come from righting those wrongs about my distorted self-image.

Telling me my sexuality was not a big deal was the easiest. I once tried to suppress that, but nowadays I just less its importance, again, just because. And, although you might think I'm a traitor to my class or something like that, it's been my way to deal with it. Simple as that.

Then, I was able to begin from certain principles: "there's no such thing as absolute truth" and "there are no wrong paths, just learning". Those I've had in mind, but in practice been forgetting.

It allowed me to explore more the what happened in-between, like finding out that, instead of being that even-handed diplomat, I might lose my temper from time to time, and it's okay. You can't always please everyone, and it's unhealthy to pretend doing so.

Also, it humbled me. You know, how it's easier being oblivious to your own limitations and believing you are on your own? Well, turns out it's not so easy in the practice. But it's reassuring to find out you can count on people, and trust them. It makes you a better person, as well as a more reliable professional.

Then it's the feeling that your future was never up to you. Is right there when I had to stop planning in long term, in part because I was getting older, but wasn't achieving what I thought I should be achieving. And that hit me… pretty hard.

But the most important, it allowed me to stop suppressing my feelings, which I regret doing in the past.

This is still a work in progress. As it's been for so long. It started as stop being rude to me, and I guess I've progressed to the point of expressing myself in a more natural manner, not watching every word I say, not being too cautious when it comes to interact with others.

Some things I've discovered on the road, such as how fucking binding a sincere kiss is, or how saying "I love you" is an unconscious action, but lies behind a really conscious feeling, and you shouldn't wear those out, but share them with someone —doesn't matter anything— you feel comfortable with, someone you are willing to truly open yourself, sharing memorable experiences, and maybe, why not, your life together. But that is never immediate. It takes time, and you'll never know what will happen next.

And that sorted out the time and future thing: if my future is, by now, uncertain, I shouldn't worry too much. Instead, I would focus on doing one thing at a time, and challenging my past self, to be even better everyday, and stop pitying on me.

True, I'm still afraid to fail and die because of it, and I'm still afraid cautious when it comes to be afraid of being wrong and look dumb. But at the same time, I'm ready to accept my fate. But that would've never happened if I hadn't have the courage to recognise I was a coward and have the will to keep changing.

I also remember writing about how hard would be engaging in a sentimental relationship with another man.

And here I am, two years later proving myself wrong, aside an awesome person who understands me and —thought he may not know— has helped me through the hardest, yet most interesting time of my life. He's seen me laugh, and cry. He's seen me achieve and fail.

So, what's next? Sincererely, I don't fucking know. But, what does it matter? At the end, it turned out to be the story of how I struggled with myself to be able to be happy, to finally do it.

P.S. I also lost my watch after getting off of an Uber. 😔