Broken Daughters

Picking up the shattered glass of fundamentalism

Revelations in the dark


My lovely readership, I hope you’re having a wonderful day! After lots of though, I decided I want to let you in on something that happened in my life recently. This happened a while back and I had this post pre-written for a while and edited it a bunch. I hope I could remove all peculiarities that sometimes come with a ton of editing.

Here’s a disclaimer: If you are easily offended by topics such as sexuality in general, homosexuality, dating relationships or anything really (aka, if you are a P/QF follower), the following post might not be for you.

And another disclaimer: I’m posting this because I want to share an area of personal growth and change. Everything I write is written with permission of all people involved. As you (hopefully) know, all names used on my blog are not the people’s real names. I do this to both protect my family as well as my new friends in my new life, so they do not have to deal with any fallout. On occasion, I have been changing places as well (for example, if I write something happened at McDonald’s, it might have been really happening at Burger King – obviously this is a rather bad example as there’s McDonald’s about everywhere here, haha!). I do this in order to conceal the place I live at right now, as people with knowledge of that place might be able to figure out where I am and then who I am. I’m paranoid like that. This is not meant to insult any of my beloved readers, but to protect myself from the very few evil minds from my old life. With recent events of several blogger identities revealed, I’m being even more careful. So please understand that if I do change times, names and places, I do not change the core of what I’m writing, and I do not change things said in conversations as they cannot be traced back to me and my environment. Writing this I made sure not to mention any surroundings that could imply any identities.

Onto the post!


“What?” was the first thing out of my mouth. My heart was beating so fast, I feared it would jump right out of my chest. I stood up and stumbled towards the door.

“No. No. I need some time to myself.” I mumbled when D grabbed my arm.

“No, please, no, no, stay, no, I’m so sorry, look, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” was all he could get out. The fear in his voice surprised me.

“Just leave me” was all I could say as I closed the door behind me. I went into the kitchen, sat down on the small table on the right side of the room, right next to the window, and stared at the wall.

So this is what actors feel like, I thought. Because this had to be a movie. This was a movie, an I was an actress. And this is what it feels like. I tried to sort my thoughts, but I realized there weren’t any left in my head. Just the pounding of my heart inside my ears, noisy like a drum, and the blood rushing through the veins.

I got up, walked in a circle twice and opened the fridge. Staring  into the fridge makes thinking easier I realized. I grabbed a green bottle from the fridge door. My roommate’s expensive white wine. She drinks a tiny glass of it once or twice a week. I started gulping half of it down, straight from the bottle. Why does she spend so much money on this? It tastes just like every other white to me. I put the bottle back, making a mental note to myself that I owe her a new one. I turn and go another circle, nibbling my lip, peeling off the chapped skin. Others bite their fingernails, I peel the skin off my lips until blood comes. I sat down again, staring at the table. A pack of cigarettes, D’s cigarettes. I take one out, exploring the unknown feeling of a cigarette between my fingers. I light it, inhale, and immediately regret it. 10 minutes and a coughing fit (and, admittedly, another big sip expensive white wine) later, I’m still sitting, nibbling.

That’s when I hear it.

Muffled sounds of crying in my room. And my heart breaks into a thousand tiny pieces. Did I really just run out on D? Did I really react this way?

You know, most of what we do, the ways we react, can’t be changed easily. If we have certain things embedded in our personalities, we act according. If you tend to laugh when you’re sad, you’ll most likely laugh when you’re sad. There are few chances, or moments, rather, where we can actively choose.

It’s like standing at a crossroads. Certainly, your decision will decide which way you’re taking, but also an emotional, a personality crossroads. You get the chance to actively decide what type of person you’re going to be. That’s how I felt.

And I decide that I didn’t want to take that old path so deeply rooted in my personality anymore. I wanted to be that other person. All I had to do was walk down the other path. And so I did – I felt like that was one of those moments where I chose that I’m a different person than I’ve been before.

Twenty minutes earlier, D had made a confession to me.

He had confessed that he is, in fact, bisexual.

I looked at the table in front of me, feeling slightly wobbly. And then shame hit me. Did I run out, drink that expensive wine and try to smoke? No wonder us fundamentalist girls are told the world isn’t for us – we don’t have the slightest clue how to deal with things.

And then came the fear that I had just ruined a wonderful relationship with an amazing person. WHAT – WAS – I – THINKING, screamed my head. I stumbled off the chair and walked to the door still closed. What should I say? It didn’t matter. I felt like every single second standing here doing nothing was wasted, was seconds lost that I would desperately need to sort this out. And so I simply went back into my bedroom. D was sitting at the edge of my bed, just staring at me. I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I just sat down next to him and grabbed his hand. And so we sat, for a pretty long time, not talking, not doing anything.


I’ll admit that this hit me like nothing ever before. What did this mean for me, for him, for us? Was it my fault?

Weirdly enough, my first association was that he asked me to have an open relationship where both of us could basically sleep around. He didn’t imply this at all, but it was my first thought and it shocked me just how deep the prejudges against gay/bi people are rooted in my thinking.

So how does the story end? Well. Yes, I sort of ended with a cliffhanger, but before you fall off the edge of your seat I want to tell you: I hope you can read my smiles between the lines. That story does have a happy ending. I just figured that this would be enough for now. I want to treat this issue with respect and empathy, and I do want to get this post out. That’s why i decided to take some more time, so I can write more on it in the thoughtful manner it deserves to be written in. But yes, we found our way to deal with this, and we are very happy with it.


6 thoughts on “Revelations in the dark

  1. O I hear you on having been given absolutely no tools to appraoch stress or even life in general. I’ll be reading the rest of this series with interest. 🙂

  2. PLEASE, let the amazing person come first. Sex is not worth such a prominence as you might have been made to think.

  3. I’m glad to know that there is a happy ending. I haven’t had that situation exactly before, but definitely have ruined good personal relationships before for issues that really don’t matter so much that I thought were so important in my super-christian days. I will be happy to hear what resolution you guys came to.

  4. I’ll be waiting eagerly for the next installment.

    And for the record, I don’t know many people who were raised in the world who would have acted any differently.

  5. Have read your blog, but not commented before, but I just want to say this:

    I’m guessing it’s working out for you, but just to let you know, it really isn’t an issue unless it becomes one for you or D. I’m bisexual. So is my husband of many years. We are both monogamous, but it was liberating for us to admit it to each other – me more than him, since my family don’t know and it took me years to realise that I was. We love each other, we tease each other and “can I watch?” is practically a catchphrase in response to flirting.

    Many of our friends are in monogamous relationships of one type or another and it’s amazing how, when the subject came up, so many identify as bisexual at some level or another.

    If it’s any consolation, when I was your age, I didn’t have many tools to deal with such an admission by a loved one, and while my parents very consciously gave me the tools to survive life, sex and sexuality was not one of those things that were discussed – and back when they married, they had never even kissed before marriage. (European Catholics, early 1960s.)

    Coming to terms with that after your upbringing? You are a woman I admire intensely for your grace and enthusiasm in coping with a whole new world. You’re doing fine, and D seems to know you well enough to realise, after he’s recovered from his own pain at your initial rejection, that your initial reaction was more of a flashback than what you really mean. It was also Incredibly brave of D to tell you this, because it’s important to him. He’s not going to run out and have sex with loads of men, but it’s part of who he is and he wants to share it with you. That is trust at a such a high level.

    Bet you that some time soon, if you have that sort of jokey relationship I have with my husband and friends, when you’ve both dealt with the aftermath of a distressing time for you both, he’ll be joking “and did I tell you? I’m bisexual” at the most ridiculous moments.

  6. Pingback: Revelations in the dark part 2: Dealing with it « Broken Daughters

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