Guest Author - L. Drea Strasser
I knew for a long time that I was at least bisexual. I was engaged in college, and it was during that time that I discovered that something wasn‘t the same.. I had the chance about a year after we broke up to hook up with a girl I was really attracted to, but I am way too shy and still wasn’t sure enough of the feelings rumbling inside me. It would’ve helped if she wasn’t younger by five years or if she made a move, but she didn’t. C’est la vie.
I got into a long relationship with another guy, but the feelings persisted, so much so that when he and I broke up three years later he insisted that I had some parts of me that needed tending to. He was right. I had no problem admitting my bisexuality by that time. I had a girlfriend, then a boyfriend…but that’s not what this story is entirely about.
The struggle continued as it did with other areas of my life until the following February, when I hit my low. I had a breakdown. I could no longer go on. I could not go to work. I cried all the time. I was desperate. I knew the only form of help would come from my father with whom I wasn’t terribly close emotionally. He was my only hope.
I starting sending him the most horrible, desperate emails, afraid to “face” him on the phone. It would be five o’clock in the morning and there I’d be, on the computer, sobbing and typing every solitary thought that crossed into my skull. Maybe he would understand what was happening to me, if I didn’t. It went on like this for a couple of weeks; a few emails. Enough to share my pain of existence. And that’s when I did it. I told him I liked girls. And I sat there looking at it knowing I might be out of the will once I hit send. And I stared. And I added, “And I’m a Democrat.”
I clicked send and immediately wished I could take it all back, but it was gone, out in cyberspace, out to my father. I waited what seemed like forever for a response and all he said was “We’ll talk about it later.” And after getting me in treatment for the other, we have. It took a long time, with bumps in the road. Stops and starts. Patience. And while it’s not what he expected, he loves me so much, and now I finally see that. For the first time, we’re friends. Things are finally opened up. I can talk to him about the Pride Parade I marched in last October, and who I’ve dated. It’s amazing what a little courage can get you…a whole new life with your Dad.
