First off, let me thank Jess over at
I'd Rather Be Tired Than Broke for the only comment I was left on my previous post.
The post on her blog brought back memories since I was in Medical School once, and with them came the memory of how I finally accepted I was a lesbian, and I wanted to share that with all of you that come and read this blog.
Up until about 10 years ago, I was in Medical School in Guadalajara Mexico, at the Universidad de Guadalajara. I was doing good. I was regular on the written tests, but when it came to practice I was spot on all the time, which was why I was doing well overall. However, after a time I started feeling that school was not everything in life.
For the first time in my life, I was finally "free" of family telling me what to do, when to do it and why. I finally started thinking about
ME and what
I felt and what
I wanted. All of my life I had always tried to be the perfect child, the perfect student, the perfect daughter. I never felt I was though. My parents always favored my brother and sister, but that is another story for another time. But anyway, I finally felt free, and I finally felt I was free to express my own thoughts and feelings and wants and needs. Among those, I found that I was sick of being "perfect", and that all my life I had been doing what others expected of me instead of what I needed or wanted for myself.
I started changing. What my parents would call "rebelling". I got a small tattoo on my ankle (no bigger than a nickel), I also dyed part of my hair blue. All of this, however, was mere experimenting for the actual things that were really troubling me, and were buried so deep down inside me I didn't even know what they were.
First, was my discontent with being in Med School. I had always told myself I wanted to be a doctor, that it was what I always dreamed of, and I kept telling myself that. See, my dad is a doctor, and all my life I had tried to please him, to have him be proud of me, since my mother was almost impossible to please (she only had eyes for her son).
Truth is, my real passions are numbers and languages. As a child, I dreamed of being a mathematician or a translator for the UN (yeah, unlikely professions, but I really felt with the right training I could have performed either exceptionally well).
I went into Med School because I wanted to please my father and because in itself it is a very worthy profession and I truly wanted to help people, but it wasn't truly what I ever wanted for myself. However, I was determined to see it through.
Meanwhile, I finally uncovered the thing that was hidden deep deep down inside myself after having a chat with a friend on the internet... What I really liked were girls, not men. I decided to keep that knowledge to myself, because despite the fact that my dad has a gay brother and my mom had LOADS of gay friends, I somehow suspected they wouldn't take it very well.
Boy was I right.
I found that out when my mom searched through my stuff while I was on vacation back in Vallarta and she found some love letters from my then gf. Stupid of me to pack them? Hell yeah. But I'd only just found them on the bus ride home and it tore my heart to just dump them somewhere. If I'd known she'd find them and what would happen, I'd have dumped them in a second though.
My life as I knew it came to an end. My parents gave me a choice: Stay in school, have the life of a monk on parole and still have a family and renounce who I am, something I'd searched VERY hard to find out, or still be "confused" and forget I had a family or that I'd ever gone to school. To me, it was a no-brainer. I chose ME.
I had finally had a chance to taste what being myself was like, and I'd enjoyed it. I loved knowing who I really am and wasn't about to give it up for anyone or anything. I bolted. I dropped all contact except for those in my family who already knew, still loved me and didn't give a damn either way.
It was very hard at first, but it's gradually gotten better. My life is still a work in progress, whereas at 20 I thought I'd have everything figured out by now. I don't know if they were unreal expectations or if it's just really taking me longer to get my shit together because of my choices, but I don't regret where I am. Ok, maybe sometimes, but then I think of the other alternative I was given and realize it was all for the best. At least my mother has finally gotten over the shock after 9 years and accepts me for who I am and also accepts my gf, and she didn't have nearly half as hard a time accepting my little brother when he came out as gay. Yeah, 2 outta 3... Makes you wonder if it isn't really genetic, doesn't it?
So, there you have it, my "coming out" story. Later on, I'll post the happier stories of my CHOSEN coming out to different friends and members of my family (before my parents knew about it).
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