Being Gay and Disabled (COMING OUT)

I have had some genuinely traumatic experiences with dating in the past, which is relatively public knowledge, if you have been reading this blog for a while. In reality, much of this happened because I was desperate to force myself into a traditionally heterosexual space, despite never feeling entirely comfortable. I was already struggling with the marginalisation that being disabled brings, you know? I wanted to avoid making my life more unnecessarily difficult. I couldn’t figure out how it was possible to ever be happy within a society that continues to reject my existence, so decided that my only option was to stay quiet. Therefore, I was willing to accept whatever (limited) attention that I was offered, almost as if to prove some kind of point to the universe. See? I can pretend — and maybe if I pretend for long enough, then it will start to feel natural. Spoiler alert: that never happened. Instead, I just became very mentally unwell. The idea of letting anyone down with this truth has been consuming me for years, which is something that I almost didn’t survive. For a while, this truly felt like the best approach.

Amongst my closest friends, I have been identifying as gay for over a year now. Every single person embraced me with such an incredible amount of warmth and acceptance, which I will forever be grateful for. If this doesn’t include you, please don’t take it personally. I only told my immediate family yesterday, simply because it’s so terrifying. It’s going to be an adjustment for everyone, I know. With that said, I am exactly the same person that you have always known, just deciding to live more freely and authentically. I am not asking for your approval because, frankly, I don’t need it. I am simply asking you to allow me this happiness, even if it will take some time. I don’t hate myself anymore, which I hope that people can accept with an open heart.

A poem by Wendy Travino called Revolutionary Letter, which reads “one thing I’ve learned/come to provisional conclusion about: when it comes to fighting, there are people who will help you & there are people who will not & there are people who will stand in the way. find the people who will help/ be loud: & clear so they know where you are — focus on them, be encouraged by them, encourage them, work with them, don’t worry about the people who won’t help. they will be of no help even if they are on your side. waste as little energy as possible fighting people who stand in the way, which is to say don’t talk, don’t argue, just get them out of the way of the fight you came for.  tl;dr: you don’t need or want the people who you know aren’t “with you” to be with you. really, you don’t”
A poem by Wendy Travino. Thank-you to all of the people that have helped (and continue to help) me fight to gather the strength to be here, writing this. Free.

Is there ever a right time to make announcements such as this? Truthfully, probably not. I do finally feel ready, though. See, dear reader, I have fallen in love. It is a beautifully pure kind of love, which I never truly believed that I would ever be lucky enough to experience. My partner, Owen, is genderqueer and uses they/them pronouns. With regard to everything else, kindly get educated or mind your own business. They make me happier than I ever knew that it was possible to be. They are, quite simply, the best human being that I have ever met. They first came into my life when I posted on that disability group looking for friends, which is just wild to think about on every level. Not to be too gross about it or anything, but I love them so much, it feels almost spiritual. There will never be enough words, but I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of time with them. Yes, I’m declaring that now, publicly. Bold, am I right? I would go anywhere and do anything, you know? They are my home and they make all of the scary stuff worthwhile, including this. I am so unbelievably proud to be in love with them. Every day is a blessing — that’s all anyone can ever ask, isn’t it?

This is a really massive deal for me. I have been waiting for my entire life, so please don’t be a dick. Now is not the time. But equally, I will not apologise for being happy, now or ever again. Owen is absolutely everything. They are wonderful in every way and my heart is with them for always, even across distance in the middle of a global pandemic. The rest of the bullshit is irrelevant.

With special thanks to Imogen, Kesia, Megan, Sonia, Holly, Courtney, Sam, Kai, Céline, Cool Hannah, Rachael and everyone else. I hope that you know who you are. Finally, to my family: I have had a draft of this post saved on my phone for a few days now, before telling you, but I feel obligated to include a small edit here. Thank-you for loving me so unconditionally. I have played this scenario over in my head a million times, quickly becoming convinced that nothing would be okay ever again. Thank-you for the hugs, the jokes and the supportive messages. I appreciate every single one of you more than words could ever fully articulate. Again, I don’t hate myself anymore. I made it. Thank-you for making such a beautiful effort to understand and embrace everything that I am. I love you. xxx

A Love Letter to My Disability

It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it’s time for me to be extra vulnerable on the internet again. I have always hated my disability and the way that it leads other people to perceive me. I have also spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over people that cancelled dates with me, after deciding that the prospect of future caring responsibilities was too much to handle. The damage that these experiences have inflicted is too heavy for words to properly convey. It has left me unable to trust in anything good. I’m constantly waiting for it to go wrong. Allowing myself to sit in the happiness for too long just feels dangerous and naive. I am notoriously bad at playing the field, so only have the emotional energy for one person at a time. If I have ever attempted to flirt with you in any way, please know that you are blessed and I am still shocked by the idea that you might have fancied me, however briefly.

Here’s the truth: I was about nine or ten when I burst into tears in the middle of an appointment to mould new splints for my legs, just because the man made some joke about all of the attention that I’d receive on Valentine’s Day. Every February, the words: “that’s never going to happen. Nobody’s ever going to love me because I’m disabled” sit at the forefront of my brain on an endless loop. I was heartbroken and am still trying to unlearn those negative internalisations.

With that said, this is a love letter because I’m learning to be grateful. Before my brother met his long-term girlfriend, there was more than one occasion where women would lose interest in him after finding out about his disabled sister. I really, really wish that I was joking. But this bullshit is a good thing, which is something that I have been trying to remind myself every day. Although impossibly painful for everyone, it is the purest of blessings. I don’t need that ableism in my life, anyway. I am determined to have more self-respect than that. I am worth more than someone that doesn’t see how beautifully radiant a life with me could be. I deserve to hold onto the connections that feel mutually good and healthy, which I’m trying to focus on now. Maybe there is something on the horizon, who knows? My heart is open to the possibility.

A few days ago, Lucy Dawson tweeted me back and called me beautiful. It was a passing comment and she has probably forgotten about it completely now, but it meant the entire world to me. For those that are unaware, she’s a pretty big deal within the disability community. She has been very influential in teaching me that disabled isn’t synonymous with unsexy. It is possible to feel attractive in a body that does not look the same as everyone else’s. I have even bought myself some new bras for the first time in two years, after my sense of self became so distorted that looking in the mirror was genuinely painful. These may sound like small steps, but I’m trying really hard.

a screenshot of a Tweet from Lucy Dawson that reads “good morning beautiful twitter ppl. I am sending you this GOOD MORNING TEXT because no-one sends me them and we could all do with one. SEND ME ON[E] BACK. Added smiles if you call me beautiful”. Danielle’s reply reads “good morning, beautiful lady !!!! you have a gorgeous soul & I hope that today is bright for you (red heart emoji)”. Lucy replies “GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL ONE (red heart emoji)”.
Do I have this screenshot saved on my phone so that I can read it before I get out of bed every morning? NATURALLY.

To the reader, if you don’t know much about this stuff, that’s okay. You can learn here and here. If you are disabled, single and feeling shit about yourself for it: know that I’m on the journey with you. You are whole. Falling in love with a disabled person will never be a burden, now or ever. My disability is not all that I am — I am a wonderful person and anyone would be LUCKY to date me. Repeat until believed.

Céline, you are the realest one. I appreciate the pep talks more than you know. Hannah, thank-you for reading this before I made it public because I was too nervous and insecure. I am beyond grateful that your friendship exists in my life. xoxo