Holidays in the Closet

When I came out to my parents as bisexual and poly in 2011, I had good intentions. I wanted to have an open and honest relationship with my family the way I can with everyone else in my life. However, their fears of my "lifestyle" becoming public -- to other family members, their friends, or even people my father knows professionally -- made me realize it was going to take a lot of time and gentle information-sharing to be able to get to "open and honest."

So I'd been talking to them about it slowly and carefully since then, only really bringing it up if they ask, being careful not to give them (especially my mother) more information than I feel like they could handle. I'd mentioned casually on the phone that I was dating a married man (though didn't name him) and thought my mom was getting used to the fact. So during her most recent visit from the Midwest, when an opportunity arose to meet Adam and his wife, I wrestled for a while with how honest I could be.

I ultimately considered everyone's potential awkwardness and my mother's possible stress and chose to introduce them as friends. And other than being slightly annoyed as I usually am when I have to act like just a friend around someone I feel so strongly about, everything went well -- until Adam and I (stupidly) decided to share a quick kiss in another room and my mother saw us. I tried to back up, introduce him as my boyfriend and be truthful, but it was too late. She told us she didn't approve, even if everyone else there did, and the encounter ruined the rest of her trip (and the rest of her week after she got home).

On National Coming Out Day, I mentioned in this post that my biggest reason to come out is to be able to be me. I thought that ultimately, if I could be honest about myself and my life and show my family how happy and secure I am in it, they would be happy for me. But in the last month I've realized that being out to my mother is causing more damage than good. Her worries -- that I'm going to be hurt, or end up alone, or somehow not blossom into whatever ideal person she'd imagined -- are hurting her, and those worries bubble to the surface every time I talk about being bi or poly.

At Christmas I talked to my father, who is more open to discussing such things, about how I could be honest with Mom without making her upset. His suggestion was one I should have anticipated: you can't, so don't. Please, he was saying, go back in the closet in front of her, and stay in the closet with the rest of the family.

So despite how I feel about being able to be myself, I did. I didn't talk about any other partners other than Joel for the rest of the trip. I've just started talking more about my "friends," not naming anyone in particular. It was hard, and I felt an immense relief upon my plane landing back home after the eight days we spent together, but so far the relationship with my parents is less strained. I'm happy knowing I'm not causing my mother pain, and I'm trying not to worry.

I try not to wonder what will happen if I decide to move in with more than one partner someday, maybe even marry again. I try not to wonder what kind of toll this hiding will take on my relationship with my family in the future. I don't know what will happen. But I do know that even though they don't want to know everything about me, my family of origin still loves me, and that's more than some people can say after coming out. Taking that comfort with me, and the comfort that I have a chosen family here who also loves me, will hopefully make those temporary closet visits a little less dark for as long as I have to take them.