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    Coming Out Stories - A Mothers Perspective!

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    I am Samantha, mother to a 22-year-old daughter and 16-year-old son. I can still remember the day my daughter told me she was bi-sexual. She was sitting in her bedroom and I had a notification on my phone of a text from her. From what I could see of the text it said that she loved me and hoped I wouldn't hate her, but she had something to tell me. It then said to press to view more. My initial thought was oh shit she is pregnant at 19. I psyched myself up to read the rest.

    The text was to tell me she was bi-sexual. She had even told me that bi-sexual meant she was attracted to males and females, as if I didn't know what it was. She went on to say she hoped I wouldn't hate her.

    I put the phone down and walked straight up to her room where I found her sobbing her heart out on her bed. I just walked over to her and gave her a huge hug and said I don't care. All I care about is you are happy and healthy.

    In all honesty I was completely shocked. I had no idea she fancied girls. She had always mentioned when she thought a guy was attractive. She was besotted with Zac Efron as a young teenager and had posters of him all over her bedroom wall. Furthermore, she never had a boyfriend and I just put that down to the fact she was quite shy. I guess like most parents, when their children are young, you envisage what their life might be like when they are grown. For me, I always imagined my daughter growing up, settling down with a man and having children of her own. Yes I assumed, but why wouldn't I?

    There were no clues before she told me, although her dubious taste in music, (she is a massive Steps fan,) should have given the game away. I jest! I was convinced she had a crush on Philip Schofield as she constantly watched clips of This Morning. She told me after she came out it was Holly she liked.

    Was I disappointed in my daughter? No, not at all. I was actually disappointed in myself that she had got so worked up and upset about telling me. I was upset that she would think for a second that I would disown or hate her. What could ever have made her think that?

    I grew up in the 80s at a time when horrific scary adverts were all over the TV about AIDS. As a child of about 10 they terrified me. I remember the horror stories, that you could catch this disease by using a public toilet or water fountain a gay person had used. Nobody in my life was outwardly gay. Words like queer, poof, pansy or dyke were used all the time. They became part of my language.

    I am not or have never been homophobic, but I am guilty of saying those words. I have never meant offence or harm by them and until my daughter came out, and we discussed this I could not see why anyone would be upset at this language. I can see now why she was so worried about telling me. I am having to learn a new language and oh it's certainly not easy. I still say the wrong thing at times and Eloise will say you can't say that mum.

    I love my daughter with all of my heart. I am constantly proud of her. Since she came out her confidence has grown. She is living her life her way, and she is happy. She has a beautiful partner of 4 years, Caitlyn, who took a massively brave step and moved 630 miles to be with my daughter and I love her with all of my heart too, and I am so grateful for the joy she brings to Eloise. I am never going to be 100% politically correct, and I will make my daughter roll her eyes but one thing I hope she knows is that I would not change her for the world even though she is making me go to a steps concert in November.
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  • Published on

    The ‘Why’ – the point of purpose!

    2021 Running richard-guy
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    Whenever I look at setting myself a goal or a target to achieve I always look at why I’m doing it. I might already know how I’m going to do it and what I’m going to do to achieve it. The real driver to achieving it is why, the purpose of doing it in the first place. If you want to look at this concept in a bit more depth look at some of the videos the brilliant Simon Sinek has done on the topic.
     
    I’ve always had an interest in endurance sports and have taken part in them since 1996 when I took part in my first triathlon. I didn’t know a great deal about the sport, motivation theories, or training back then (this was before the internet. I had one book and a couple of copies of ‘Triathlete’ magazine). It seemed like a good challenge and something I would enjoy, as well as feeling a sense of achievement.

    That sense of why hasn’t changed a great deal 25 years later with the ultra-marathon – why am I doing it? I’ve never done a run of that distance before, so it is a sense of the unknown, it has given me a goal to aim towards this year, and the sense of achievement when I cross that finishing line are great drivers. It is something I want to prove to myself that I can do.

    It has also had an impact on other areas of my life as well. My focus has improved, my diet has improved, my motivation is better, sense of well-being and the way I view myself has improved. I enjoy training. I can’t train for the sake of training though. I need a goal or target to work towards. There needs to be an outcome at the end of it. To me, it is more than just saying I want to be fitter and healthier (and this is very subjective and has multiple variables as well). That end-goal is important.

    Knowing why I am doing it is important throughout. What the purpose of doing all that training is building to – physically, mentally and emotionally. I know there will be challenges along the way, but I also know I have it in my ability to overcome those challenges – I just need to return to the purpose, 'the why' I’m doing it.

    There are times when I’m out running when I think about slowing the pace or even stopping and walking for 50 m or so but I manage that internal self-talk and return to the purpose and 'the why' to motivate myself to keep going – quitting is not an option. I’ve not missed one training session this year – every session I’ve completed no matter how I’m feeling or what the weather is doing – because I’m focused on why I’m doing this.

    I’d much rather train when I don’t feel like it and/or train in the wind and rain than not even make the start line (let alone the finish line!)

    The runs are getting longer every week now and every time they are getting longer I’m enjoying them more. There are probably a few reasons for this – the sense of achievement for building up the mileage and also being a step closer each time to achieving that overall goal. Running a couple of different routes recently has helped with the motivation – exploring different parts of the city and wondering where a certain trail or path leads is always pretty cool.

    Having that sense of why and purpose has been filtering into other areas of my life as well, since the start of the year and the other goals and targets I set for myself – I think the motivation becomes contagious and those links are easily made. On the flip side of that, if the motivation isn’t there then that negativity also becomes contagious. I know this from times when my mental health has been at rock bottom – that purpose isn’t there, there is no why, there is no focus, motivation doesn’t exist. Having been at the abyss of trying to take my own life years ago I know how important it is to have that sense of purpose. I had nothing to drive me then.

    Nowadays, I have lots of things that drive me. I set myself challenging goals – they are not easy, and they are not impossible either. I know that they will stretch me as I work to achieve them. I know I need to have self-discipline to achieve them.

    As lockdown eases I know that I must remain as focused now as ever before, going out and meeting friends is not the main priority, easing off and kicking back to have some downtime is not an option for the moment. What is the priority is getting in those long miles in training, getting my studies done for work, focusing on ticking off a couple more of the goals I’ve set for myself.

    I know when I’ve achieved them I can look in the mirror and be pleased with the effort, application, drive, sacrifice, and determination. And when that happens it is time to create new goals and targets, new purposes and finding the new and next why.

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  • Published on

    Coming Out Story - Eloise Felstead!

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    My name is Eloise, and I am a 22-year-old bisexual woman.

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    I first properly came to terms with my sexuality when I was around 13/14. Before then, I had seen pretty women on TV or in public and wondered why I felt ‘funny’, but it didn’t really make sense until I started watching and becoming a fan of popular TV shows and getting involved with the online community surrounding it.
     
    I became a little infatuated with one of the characters and cast members of my favourite show at the time, Glee. It was because of her that I came to terms and realised I wasn’t actually straight. I didn’t have an issue displaying this on certain platforms online where it wasn’t viewed by my peers, but remained closeted and silent in public.
     
    Over the years, I came out to several friends who I trusted and who I knew understood how I was feeling. I always wanted to come out to my family, but the fear and anxiety it caused made this difficult. You are constantly reading about horror stories in the LGBTQ+ community and how young kids are being abused or thrown out of their home for something they can’t help, which puts the fear in your own head that the same is going to happen to you.
     
    I would be lying if I said I didn’t think my parents were homophobic/biphobic at least several times. My dad would always make jokes and call my steel capped boots I wore to Cadets my “dyke/lesbian” boots. Whilst this was a joke to him, it was scary to imagine what he would say if he knew I wasn’t straight. My mum joked about bisexuality a lot, saying bisexual people are greedy and should pick a side, and it saddened me. But I never spoke up in fear of being outed and disowned. These jokes and comments came from all around me. Friends, family. I felt like I had been pushed so far back in the closet so, I never even contemplated coming out. I know none of it was ever malicious, but words do more damage than people care to admit.
     
    In 2016, my dad sadly passed away before I had the chance to tell him I was bisexual, and this has always affected me because I never got to come out to him and tell him who I really was. There’s nothing I can do about that now, but I always wonder what he would say, if he would be proud of me, if he would care.
     
    After a while, I met someone online, and it was getting quite serious. I knew I’d have to come out eventually if I really wanted this relationship to go anywhere so, one night, after work, I had plucked the courage up to come out to my mum. You may laugh, but I spent the entire 45-minute walk home from work listening to ‘I’m Coming Out’ and other pride hits to give me the courage.
     
    I got in and saw my mum on the phone. I didn’t want to wait up as she can be on the phone a long time so, I went up to my bed, and composed a text. I didn’t particularly want to come out via text, but it was the only way I felt brave enough. I typed out this message, debated pressing send, before I realised that I really had nothing to lose. The response I was going to get from my mum would be the same response I would get if I came out in a year. 5 years. 10 years. I pressed send and a wave of anxiety and sickness washed over me.
     
    Within a few minutes, I heard my mum coming up the stairs and I started shaking. I was so scared as to what she would say. She came into my room, asked if she could sit down on my bed, then started speaking to me.
     
    She told me she didn’t care about whom I loved, as long as I was happy. She joked that she thought I was pregnant when I sent her the text beginning “I have something to tell you.”. I was crying, and we went downstairs to have a proper chat. She asked me questions about bisexuality to try and understand more, and that comforted me and made me feel like she truly cared about bettering herself and becoming more educated. She asked me if I had a girlfriend and I said yes, and told her about Caitlyn, who is still my girlfriend over 3 years later.
     
    I felt like my coming out was very anti-climatic. It was nothing like the shows or movies, it was so much easier and calmer and... happier. The only issue I really had surrounding my coming out is that your coming out doesn’t become your own story to tell any more.
     
    My mum started telling friends and family, who told friends and family, so on and so on. This upset me as I didn’t have the chance to tell my closest friends first. I felt that this rushed me into telling others when I wasn’t ready for that, and I told my mum this. But, to me, it felt like it was now her news for her to share. She didn’t seem to care about the effect it had on me or my well-being. Despite these feelings, her telling people had no negative effect on me, and in the long run, it probably made things a lot easier for me.
     
    After my grandparents found out, my nan was very set on telling me that I’ll “end up with a man one day”. I know she was only looking after me, but this felt like my bisexuality was being treated as a phase. I never spoke up as my anxiety refused to let me. This stopped after a while and now everyone could not be more supportive of myself and my girlfriend.
     
    My girlfriend and I have now been living together for almost 2 years after she moved 630 miles to be with me. We are happy in our own home, just the two of us, and she is a part of my wider family. We will have been together 4 years this December.
     
    While my coming out was difficult at times, I know I’ve had it incredibly easy compared to others, but this doesn’t mean there still isn’t a huge stigma surrounding coming out.
     
    I hope my story has helped someone, even if it’s given them a little push towards telling someone they trust. You will never be alone. Love always wins.
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  • Published on

    My Constant Gastro Hell!

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    I haven't been feeling the best over the last few weeks; if I am totally honest, my various health issues seem to be overtaking my life again. Suffering from IBS can be debilitating and I do have good and bad days. On a perfect day, I can function at near normality and be more or less pain free. However, these are rare days now and the majority of the time I do suffer from discomfort, to differing degrees.

    A few days ago I had a gallbladder attack, something I have only experienced on two other occasions. After the last strike, I had adjusted my diet and lifestyle to accommodate for my gallbladder disease diagnosis. I began eating much smaller portions, followed a strict low Fodmap diet and exercised on a regular basis. All of these changes calmed the chronic problems I have, and I really began to feel like I was winning. Some days I actually forgot I even had any conditions at all.

    My diagnosis of IBS feels rather tenuous at times. One has to remember I was given this prognosis at a time, when I had no quantifiable illness to otherwise contradict the Doctors judgement. Today I have gallbladder disease, a hiatal hernia, Diverticular Disease, Kidney stones and gastritis. Added together, they make for  hellish Gastrointestinal function, that can be impossible to stabilise. Whether I have IBS on top of this is debatable in my opinion, but the specialists do seem to think I have very bad symptoms, because of all these ailments. I can understand that and do whatever I can to ease the ongoing pain.

    Medication, natural herbal remedies and digestive enzymes, together with a healthy lifestyle, including no alcohol and smoking have all started to produce results. I have been feeling markedly better, so much so, I took my eye off the ball and started eating the wrong things. Since Christmas, I have put on over a stone in weight and the aches and pains have come back with a vengeance, culminating in that gallbladder attack in the middle of the week.

    I know when I've had a pummelling from that useless gallbladder, that in my case stopped working properly several years ago. The pain is like nothing I have endured before. Radiating across my chest, upper back, abdomen and arm, it is akin to childbirth (so I am told.) I initially thought I was having a heart attack the first time I had one, but today realise how important it is to try and ride it out. The pain was so intense on Thursday that I violently threw up for two hours and really thought I might have to phone an ambulance. However, as fast as it began, it disappeared and exhausted, I was able to operate normally once again.

    At the end of April, I have an appointment with rheumatology at Queen Alexandra Hospital, so I can finally get some answers as to what is occurring. It is believed I have Fibromyalgia, but Rheumatoid Arthritis is still a possibility. They may well be able to help with my gastro issues, if there is a link between the two. I am also still awaiting a gallbladder removal operation and at least three other procedures, to give a more concrete analysis of just what is going on. I hope it isn't too much longer before I can get back to some semblance of normality and live a more fulfilled life. Until then, I guess it will be more of the same, until I can get to the end of this sorry saga, that has plagued my life for far too long.

    After the awful week I've had, I'm hoping for a quieter, less intense seven days ahead. Careful eating and stepping back from those naughty habits, that have returned once again, should hopefully pay dividends. I don't want another bout of pain again, at least in the short term, otherwise next time I will end up in A&E, not a place I want to be right now. A change in diet is the first step to regaining the upper hand and until the pandemic ends and operations are carried out, it is the only tool I have to get me though. With a positive outlook and understanding network of friends, I'm hopeful life will finally return to convention and my mind can concentrate on bigger and better things!
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  • Published on

    My Coming Out Story - Daniel Wakelin!

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    Hello Everyone - My name is Dan Gates. I’m 27 years Old from Portsmouth, And this is my coming out story. I thought I’d tell you my coming out story, in the hope that readers will find this helpful and insightful

    Where shall we begin? Let’s start from the beginning shall we.

    I was born on the 4th of August 1993, My mother was 18 years old when she gave birth to me. At the time she lived with her parents (My grandparents) Because of how young my mother was, I’ve always felt like we have had more of a Brother/Sister kind of bond, than an actual Mother/Son kind of relationship. My grandparents have always been my mum and dad in my eyes, as I’d often stay with them when my mother had to work.

    When I was 2 years old, my mother managed to get a place of her own, so we then moved into that. We moved to Paulsgrove … A road called Meadowsweet Way. At the time we had moved in, The road was brand new with new houses and new families moving in, where at the time a lot of the children were the same age as me.

    Growing up in our road was incredible, Because all the children were the same age as me; you’d often find us on our bikes riding up and down the street, going round each other’s for dinner and having sleepovers. Our mothers were also friends as well and most of us in our road went to the same primary school as each other; so we were a pretty tight community. Everyone knew each other well and would look out for one another; it was pretty special.

    As time passed, and I was getting older, I started to feel a little different to the other children, as I’d often noticed my friendship circles were female. My mother would often sign me up for things such as football and karate and I’d be against it because it wasn’t my kind of thing. I’d just be happy spending time with the girls and I always felt like I was one of them. I was very emotional as a child; most of the boys were playing football and being rough with each other, where I wasn’t like that at all, I wasn’t your typical stereotype boy.

    I often found I was more attracted to guys growing up, like I’d often look at females as friends but would never feel anything more than that. I did have a few girlfriends growing up, but they were never anything serious & they never lasted long because I just saw them as friends and struggled to see them as anything more. I had a friend at school called Marc, Me and him were very close and very flirty with each other … He was one of my first male friends.

    Marc was a few years older than me. I remember a time when I went back to his, and we had a lovely day in the house together, messing around and just having a laugh, and I remember getting so flirty to him that we both kissed.

    I remember at the time being shocked and scared at what I had done, but the more I kept thinking about the kiss, the more right it had felt & I wanted to do it with him more and more. A few days after the kiss, I told my female friends about it, They were also very shocked by it, yet they were so supportive. They handled it so brilliantly and were just wonderful about the whole thing, I remember having a conversation with my friends telling them how I felt about that kiss and how I felt about guys in general, and it soon came clear that I was Gay.

    I was 13 years old when I had made that discovery, 13 was often the age. Teens would start to experiment and find out who they are. It was when puberty was beginning and sex education was taught on a regular basis preparing us for adulthood.

    Because my friends were so accepting, I thought sooner or later I’d have to come out to my family, To me this was a very daunting & a scary thought. As my mother was very closed-minded & my grandparents were very old-fashioned, as being gay back in their day was illegal. She kept signing me up for things, trying to shape me into the person I didn’t want to be. Over & over I kept thinking on the best approach to tell her by not telling her exactly, because of the close community in our road. I started telling more and more of my friends and soon word had got around and my friends had even told their parents; word soon got back to my mother.

    I remember coming home from school one day, My mother sitting me down looking somewhat disappointed. The first words that came from her mouth were “Is it true ?”

    When my mother asked me that question, I knew things wouldn’t go well. I knew that not because of her anger from finding out from someone else, but because she just wasn’t someone I could approach with anything. My mother had a short fuse she’d fly off the handle at the smallest of things.

    She then went on to say how she always had a feeling I would be; how she wasn’t happy about the idea of her son being with another boy & how it was wrong, as we have never had someone gay in our family before. She also went with the stereotype of: 'because I used to hang around with females & how I’d love to do dance, music and various other things that would make me Gay,' which in my opinion is a lot of Shhhhh …

    The tension was so awful after that conversation, that it was very clear it was no longer safe for me to be living in that environment, I then decided to move in with my grandparents. My grandparents also found out I was Gay, because my mother had told them. They were OK with it, but they never wanted me to speak about my sexuality or relationships. Even at the age of 27, it still isn’t something that’s spoken about with my mum or grandparents.

    Coming out was awful for me, because the people who you think would stand by you and accept you for who you are, let me down. It’s most probably the reason that I have had issues with relationships during my life, It’s most probably the reason why I do find it hard to be with someone, Because love has let me down.

    When I think about my coming out experience now, the question I ask myself is would I do it again, Would I do anything different ? The answer is No I wouldn’t change the way I did it. Yes my mother did find out from someone else, but she was never open-minded or approachable in the first place.

    Coming out was also a good thing for me, because there were people who stood by me such as my friends and at the age of 27 years old, I’m living my best life.

    I don’t live with family any more, I can do what I like and kiss the people I want to, without judgement from others.

    Life as a Gay Man in 2021 is incredible, you’ll often hear more and more people coming out and being accepted for who they are. Pride is so openly celebrated, you’ll often see brands sporting the pride flag on pride month. Our LGBT History/Community is growing and becoming more positive and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us all.

    Pride is an event that I do hold in my heart because it reminds me of how lucky I am to be loved and accepted by my friends and even though I had a bad experience, it also shaped me into the person I want to be. It taught me to love, accept and embrace the person I am, stand tall and be proud of how far I've come to be that person.

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    If you have your own
    'coming out story' to tell, why not get in touch.
    We'd love to hear from you!
  • Published on

    Coming Out Stories - William Mills!

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    I came out when I was twenty-one years old, I'm forty-eight now; It wasn't a great experience!

    I had Just turned 21 and was living with my Foster brother and his wife; I was just in the process of moving out to live on my own, after growing up in care for fifteen years....

    On the day I came out, I never thought they knew I was gay; trying to hide it, I kept it a secret from my foster parents. They had turned up at my foster brothers and had known all along. Disgusted, there no acceptance or understanding. Other stuff had come out too, about the past. After that, well, I got what I wanted I suppose, free to live my life, no more secrets, finally accepting who I was and my sexuality too, not feeling ashamed any more!

    Thank you x