How do I find my way to pride?

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Dear Hera,

After being asleep for decades, I find myself inside the middle-aged crisis that is my gay awakening. It’s not cathartic or joyous, and mostly I am afraid.

For years now I’ve experienced the slow creeping horror, I think not of my queerness, but of discovering that I am not who I thought I was. And not how everyone else knows me.

I can’t be regretful; I have a wonderful child, and I’ve found ways to do a bit of good in the world, but there’s been little joy. I built the life I set out to build but couldn’t be content with it, and I walked away. Now I worry about having misled, or even wronged, the people and partners I’ve known.

This is an ache, and I don’t know how to clear it. I can’t imagine finding a partner now and have only tenuous connections in the queer community. I feel so strongly that I don’t belong (anywhere) and worry I might subconsciously sabotage new connections with people, or that I’m in such a dark place that no one would want to get to know me.

Am I just so conditioned to heteronormativity that I can’t accept myself? Did I live the wrong life? How can I find my way to pride?

A late-in-life queer

Dear late-in-life,

Hello and good morning!

First of all, congratulations on having arrived at this hard-won self-knowledge. This is a huge step, no matter how long or painful the journey. But even more commendable is the courage it took you to step away from a life that didn’t feel authentic and brought you no joy.

Right now you’re currently overwhelmed, standing on the threshold of an unfamiliar life, like someone having just leapt out of a plane, before the parachute has opened. But you’ve already done the hardest part. It will take time and patience to imagine a new kind of future for yourself – one in which joy is possible. I can understand your fear, but I think one day you will look back at this version of yourself with gratitude and feel proud you were brave enough to want more for yourself.

I don’t think there is such a thing as living the wrong life. We all love to believe we’re captains of our fate, and our life is free to shape as we see fit, but it’s probably closer to the truth to admit we’re all sentient lumps of dubiously programmed meat, hostage to our individual circumstances, and must do the best we can with the information currently available to us. That doesn’t mean we can’t change our lives for the better, but it’s a waste of time and energy to be too harsh on our past selves, berating ourselves for squandered time, as if things could easily have been any other way, had we tried harder.

Perhaps your life would have been smoother if you’d spontaneously figured thing out earlier, but identity isn’t a fundamental underlying truth you’re tasked with uncovering. We’re all hundreds of different people over the course of our lives, and for most of us, who we are is a question we have to answer over and over. Some people figure out who they want to be early, and it’s normal to be envious about that kind of certainty, but absolute certainty isn’t necessarily a better way to live. There’s a lot to be said for dead-end roads, wrong turns and instructive mistakes.

Anyone who views this new development in your life as a personal betrayal, rather than the natural variety and contradiction inherent in a well-lived life, is either annoyingly narcissistic or has lived a very narrow life. You don’t owe it to anyone to have a narratively cogent personal development arc that makes everyone else in your life feel retrospectively good about themselves. Discovering a new aspect of your sexuality or identity doesn’t mean your relationship with others was deceitful – most relationships are infinitely more complex and fluid than we give them credit for.

Right now you’re probably grieving what feels like wasted years. But as you said in your letter, there were wonderful things that came along with your past, which you wouldn’t take back. It’s scary to embark on a life you have no mental blueprint for, especially if you feel like a late bloomer. But there are so many people who have stumbled on this kind of realization later in life, and will be able to relate to your story. Like any major life-change, it will be scary, but it can’t be worse than continuing as you were, in a joyless state of creeping horror.

Don’t worry about pride for now. Start with acceptance and finding some measure of peace, and hopefully in time, pride will follow.

You say you feel like you don’t belong anywhere. But my advice would be to start with the community you already have. You don’t have to rebuild your entire life from scratch. If you haven’t already, seek out the support of friends and family. Maybe pick out a few people who you know will have your back.

In terms of finding love, there’s no hurry. It might make you feel more confident to find some queer friends first. People in the comments might have some ideas of where to look, but most cities have a pride organisation or other community support groups which offer low-pressure social engagements, like walking groups or book clubs. You won’t develop a sense of belonging overnight, but if you keep showing up, even in a low-stakes, nervous straggler kind of way, over time it will start to feel more natural. Some people presumably feel a deep and innate sense of belonging with others, but that’s a high bar, and for many people, showing up regularly and slowly building rapport with a community of strangers is good enough. If you’ve always been a little shy or awkward, being queer won’t magically solve your problems or make you feel as if you belong in the world. But there might be one or two people you really vibe with, and it’s worth putting yourself out there in order to meet them.

So many people discover their queerness later in life, and go on to find fulfilling and happy relationships. But at the moment, you say you can’t even imagine finding a partner. In that case, a good first step might be to let yourself imagine. It’s hard to feel confident about doing anything if you can’t even imaginatively process the possibility. Indulge in a little aspirational daydreaming, and try and open your mind to the idea of what a joyful life might look like. Heterosexual people often get years to do this before getting into serious relationships, so allow yourself that same luxury.

My feeling is that pride is something that will come with self-acceptance. It’s not something you have an obligation to spontaneously summon out of thin air. Be patient, and give yourself time and space to adjust to this new chapter of your life, and hopefully one day the joy will follow.

Please share any and all aspirational advice in the comments below!