Coming Out Wasn’t Brave

Staying In Was. What no one tells you about survival, shame, and the secret courage of hiding in plain sight.

For a long time, I thought bravery looked like a bold declaration.
A line in the sand. A coming out video with tears and rainbows and triumphant music swelling in the background.

That wasn’t my story. And if you’re reading this… maybe it wasn’t yours either.

See, I didn’t kick down the closet door with glitter on my cheeks and a newfound zest for life. I stood inside that closet for decades. Decorated it. Made it home. And somehow, the world still called me brave—only after I walked out.

But here’s what they never saw.

They didn’t see the years I woke up every day and chose to stay. Chose silence over shame. Chose performance over panic. Chose to protect everyone else before protecting myself. And that? That took more courage than anything I’ve done since.

The Story Before the "Start"

When people ask about my “coming out,” they want the transformation story. The phoenix rising. The second act. The confetti.

But no one really asks about the chapter before that.

No one asks how it felt to swallow yourself whole. To answer “yes” when everything inside screamed no.

No one asks about the coping mechanisms we carved out of desperation. The CrossFit body we built to feel powerful in a life that made us powerless. The striving for perfection, for straightness, for safety—because if we could just do it right, maybe the ache would shut up for good.

No one asks about the quiet, daily war we fought—wearing an identity like armor we never took off, not even when we slept.

But you don’t get to the “after” without living through that “before.” And for many of us, the “before” wasn’t weak. It was masterful. It was survival in its highest form.

Survival Deserves a Standing Ovation

Let me say this loud for the people in the back (and for the younger version of me still sitting in the dark):

Staying in the closet was not cowardice. It was courage that no one could see.

It took everything I had to protect a version of myself the world wasn’t ready for. It took strategy. Disassociation. Careful calculation. It took performance so good I started to believe the role myself.

I built a whole life in that closet. Career. Marriage. Friendships. Reputation. A life designed to be bulletproof, so no one would look too closely at the cracks underneath.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand: Just because a life was built from fear doesn’t mean it was fake. And just because we hid doesn’t mean we weren’t brave.

You Can’t Heal While Hating Your Survival Self

There was a time—right after I came out—when I hated who I had been.

I was furious that I hadn’t figured it out sooner. Ashamed of the years I spent conforming. Embarrassed by the straight-passing life I had so expertly curated.

But healing doesn’t happen through shame.

Healing happens when we realize the version of us who stayed in the closet wasn’t a villain. She was a hero. She kept the lights on when everything else was dark. She built a life. Paid the bills. Carried the weight. She didn’t lie because she was manipulative—she lied because she was terrified.

I had to learn to look her in the eye and say: Thank you. You got me here. And now I’ve got it from here.

If You’re Still In—You’re Not Behind

There are people reading this right now who haven’t come out yet. Or maybe you’ve come out to yourself, but no one else. Maybe your timeline looks “late” to others.
Maybe you think, I’m too old, or I missed the window, or It’s easier for everyone else.

Nope.

You’re not behind. You’re just alive in a world that told you it wasn’t safe to be you.

And so you did what we’ve all done at some point: You found a way to stay safe.

That is not failure. That is resilience.

And when (or if) you decide to step out? You won’t be starting over—you’ll be carrying every ounce of wisdom you earned inside the dark. And it will make your light burn even brighter.

For the Ones Who’ve Just Stepped Out

You might be expecting joy, relief, celebration. And you’ll get there—but also? You might feel grief. You might feel disoriented. Lonely. Raw.

You might realize that the real “bravery” isn’t just in saying “I’m gay”—it’s in rebuilding your life from the ground up. Telling the truth when no one asked for it. Loving yourself without conditions for the first time ever. Losing people who only ever loved the mask.

And on the hardest days, when you miss the structure and safety of the closet, remember this:

You already did the hardest part. You survived pretending. You lived a half-life and still managed to love others. You kept going when your soul was cramped in a box it never asked to be in.

Now, you get to learn how to love yourself in the wide open. And that? That’s the real revolution.

You Were Brave Then. You’re Brave Now.

Let’s stop pretending bravery starts with the moment you say “I’m queer.”
It starts way before that.

It starts the first time you swallowed your truth for someone else’s comfort. The first time you chose to stay silent to keep the peace. The first time you made yourself smaller, quieter, straighter—to survive.

That was brave.

So is this.

Don’t let anyone tell you different.

If this cracked something open in you… Share it. Save it. Send it to the version of you who still thinks they waited too long.

Because Big Gay Overalls was never about the outfit. It’s about the soul inside—the one that always knew, even in the dark.

And I promise: you were never alone in there.