Coming out

I 'came out' about my sexuality at the age of seventeen. It was horrible. Most of my family gave me guilt and shame, instead of the support and love that I desperately craved. Their love included trying to 'cure' me at the psychiatrists. I only went once, and moved out shortly afterwards. The way in which my family treated me reinforced every negative attitude I already had about myself. It also reinforced how marginalised I felt. For most of my life I have felt myself to be odd, a bit of a shadow lurking on the outer margins of humanity. I have felt that, in a way, I wasn't a real person, in that I could not communicate. I had no voice other than the one in my head.
I 'came out' again at the age of fifty-four, this time about my ASD. I was dreadfully frightened and worried to begin with, but the people around me have been fantastic in the way they have accepted me. The way I have been treated has helped me to accept this part of myself, rather than ignoring it. I actually feel much more at ease with myself, although I still don't like myself. This, and the response I get from my blogs, has been both empowering and liberating for me. Although I will have nothing to do with my biological family, I feel they should hang their heads in shame, were they to see the example set by my real family and friends, except for the one brother I love and respect. Him aside, the rest of them have much to learn, and I hope they do learn.