I came out of the closet

Yeah you heard it.  I came out of the closet….

comingout

No let me rephrase that as I don’t want you thinking I came out as a homosexual and now live in a civil partnership with a man called Nigel.

I showed someone my writing.

Obviously not you, in Internet land, but someone in my actual real life.  Despite writing this blog for over a year now, no one in my life knew I wrote this.

And you may not think that it is not such a big deal, but I do.  Its always been a place to express my own private thoughts.  But even then, I didn’t link to my blog – I decided to appropriately select and edit what was shown.

If you wonder why I am so private about this, there are three main reasons I have not shared with family and friends.

Embarrassment

It would not be appropriate and I would be mortified if they read this little story about when I was in Amsterdam.

Open access to my emotions

I have written things that contain my most private thoughts, that no ones knows.  So when I passed on my story about having a breakdown from stress.  I wondered how they would react.  Particularly when I wrote:

“I walked by the canal in my lunch hour and wondered what that cold water would feel like.”

No one in my life is aware that I have even had suicidal thoughts and I thought twice about sharing that because I did not want to upset them.

Quality

And finally I was apprehensive because they might just plain think that what I write is crap.

So…

People closest to me knew I wrote something, but I was always was a bit vague with what I was writing.  But my relationship with Vicky broke things down a bit and I told her I wrote “a journal”.

She was curious to see some of my writings.  It took me about three months and as part of a valentines present I gave her something priceless.  And I wanted to get it right:

  • I went with My Hell, because it showed how deep with my writing I can get.

Then I got her to read – Nobody starts a new job in January purely because I felt it was a conclusion of how I picked myself up from rock bottom.

Finally I got her to read The Karate Instructor because I felt it really showed my self-depreciating humour.

The Aftermath…

I use the term “Coming out of the closet” as an analogy, because like admitting your gay there is always that dreading moment what someone will say.

closet

She felt sympathy and shock of how I felt during my breakdown, but enjoyed seeing how I picked myself back up.

She laughed at the Karate Instructor story and got perticular amusement out of the line “It soon became one of my first dreams that did not revolve around a girl touching my penis.”

I told her that my original idea after writing The Karate Instructor was to write an amusing book about all the failures in my life and what I had learnt from it.

Vicky replied “Well why don’t you?”

It was such a simple thing to state, but it gave me the drive I have been lacking with my writing.  I now have a new project to work towards.

And that is what happened when I came out of the writing closet.

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