I originally went to therapy with my husband for marriage counseling. There were some problems. We weren't having sex (for about 1 year) We didn't connect, my self-esteem was low and (here's the whammy) I had been sexually abused as a child. What a hunk a stuff on my plate. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention, I am 36 years old, and this was my 2nd marriage? I didn't? Read on.

I guess I always knew, somewhere in the back of my pretty little head. I used to salivate over my father's Playboy magazines. I liked boys, but I liked girls too. Then there was Myra B. who kissed me in the closet (how appropriate) one day when I was 9. I never forgot that. I eventually divorced husband one. He cheated on me and gave me a STD. The girl thing was an issue in that marriage. I used to call lesbian 976 numbers ... ahhh. Oh I was just remembering, back to the story. Well between husbands 1 and 2 I had an affair with a woman. Finally sex felt right and natural and mutual.

It seemed once I started telling the sexual abuse secrets, the lesbian thing, just wouldn't stay under wraps. I had to tell my therapist. Who promptly said after I told her. "Well, telling me is just like telling yourself." No shit I thought. Now my head was screaming ... what next? What do I now? Do I go out and buy the entire first season of Queer as Folk? Or maybe I go get a rainbow sticker for my car? A pin for my lapel? Do I go hang out in WeHo? Am I butch or femme? What exactly is lesbian bed death? And haven't I already experienced that with the man I am (still -- divorce pending) married to? And when exactly do I let him know? We have a daughter, and he will fight tooth and nail to wrench her away from me. I mean, do I have to live with ANOTHER secret now? How do I tell my mother? Friends? How will I ever date? The last thing I ever wanted to be was a lesbian!

But I love women. The way they move, the way they smile, the way they smell. I love the mystery of women. I love them curvy and lithe. I love their hands and their touch. I love them all dolled up or when they look like mischievous boys. I love the way they can look inside you. I love the way they touch your soul. I love the very essence of women. So no matter how much I would like to deny what I am, I can't deny my love of this gentle gender, in order to live authentically me, I have to be a lesbian.

So this is my coming out. I have a long road ahead. I still have issues with sex and abuse and a divorce and a daughter to raise and a job to get and an apartment to find. The loneliness is devastating, sometimes I curl up in bed and don't move for hours. Sometimes there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I see myself, with a partner. We are laughing, or curled around each other. We are holding hands. And I breathe and try and hold on to that picture.

I have always been different, I finally realize why.