Coming out was like leaping off a high dive

This piece was originally published on June 19, 2019.

Do you remember your first time on the high dive?

Gathering up the courage to climb the ladder. Carefully shufflingto the edge of the diving board. That nervous, regretfulfeeling as you staredown to the pool.Just as you convinceyourself to take that step off the edge, you feel your muscles tense up and youstand therefrozen.

Imagine being atop that high dive for 28 years.

For me, climbing that highdive was accepting my sexuality. Takingthat step off the platform was finally saying something out loud thatI hadn't even whispered to myself yet.

Instead of the local pool, I was sitting around a table with my closest friends at 1 a.m. on NewYear'sEve. Another year had officially ended. Another year hidden.

This year was going to be different. I had made a deal with myself that I was leaving the shadowsand kicking off 2019 bystepping into therainbowcolouredsunlight.

As the night dwindled, so did myopportunity to finally announce my truth.I gave myself 10 moreseconds to collect my thoughts before Ijumpedoff that damn platform. In 10 seconds, 28 years flashed by.

10...9...

I grew up in a small farming community, wherea pebble of news dropped in the pond would quickly ripple through the coffee shops and down the grid roads.It'sablessing and a curse to livewhere people care so much. I learned at an early age that reputation was everything.

I hada lot of great friends but I was alsotargeted by alot of people.Kids are incredibly perceptive. When they haven'tquiteyet developed empathy but can sniff out insecurities in their peers, they can be quite dangerous.

In Grade 7,fourboys followed me into the change room, turned off all the lights and began kicking volleyballs as hard as they could in my direction. I laid helplessand afraidon the floor until they flickered the lights to figure out why they weren't hitting their target. Iran out before they couldre-gather theirammo.

No words were exchangedbut, I heard their message loud and clear. I stopped changing for gym class that day.

8...7...6

Thingsgot betterasI progressed through high school. Sadly, in order to adapt, I had to bury a very real part of myself. I kept myself so busy that I didn'thave time to dig it up.

I tied my selfworth to my accomplishments in university, work and extra-curricular activities. It made it a lot more bearable, but deep down I knewthat it wasn't sustainable. I needed something to change.

Be careful what you wish for.

54...

My dad and I had a complex relationship.

On paper,a proud, blue collarfarmer who dropped out of high school in Grade 10to take over the family farmwouldn't mesh very well with a son whowould rather sort hisPokemon cards than helpwith harvest.

Somehow we worked.He made sure I had every resource I needed to follow any dream I wanted to pursueeven if it was completely different from his own.

My dad passed away from cancer when I was 25.I was robbed of many valuableyears with my father but throughhis battlehe gave me the mostvaluable gift he could have ever left me with - perspective.

My world collapsed after his death.Underneath the rubble, I found thatpart of myself I had buried.

I realized life is too short and nothing, especially time,shouldbe taken for granted. The thought of laying on my death bed still holding onto thatsecretmade me nauseous.For the first time, I began seriously considering coming out.

32...

In 2018, I started a project calledThat Was 27 27 vlogs that captured a year of my life.

I challenged myself to live 100 per centunapologetically authentic.Anything in my vlog had to be truly me so that when I looked back 10 years from now,I'd have an accuratesnapshot of my life.

This was thetransformative process I needed thatturned out to be way more than a creative outlet.

ThelensI used to capture the outside world becamemore of a mirror. I could see the tangible connection that I had with people when I was the authentic version of myself. It becamestrikinglyclear to me that Ino longer needed to be afraid.

1...0...Jump.

I'm not one to light candles, ask everyone to hold hands and reveal an emotional epiphany while we take turns weeping. I took a few minutes to pump myself up in the bathroom mirror,came back to the tableand held up my glass to make a toast.

Ithanked them for taking another trip around the sun with me and explained that Ihad one last vlog coming up whereI was going to tell the world something that I had kept hidden my entire life.

This was it.

"I'm gay."

It was thefirst time I ever said it out loud, even to myself.

It feltdirty, but was also the biggest reliefI've ever felt.

My close friendsall reacted with unwavering love, empathyand an uplifting sense of triumph. Although most weren't surprised, they knew how much of a victorythis was for me. I needed this boost of confidence before I was readytopublicly plant my rainbow flagin my last vlog.

The vlog took me threeweeks to edit. I felt myself being very protective over a story I had been penning for 28 years.Icontemplated not even posting it many times, but I refused to hide anymore.

I was jumping off that high dive and I was cannon balling on my way down.

I was floored by the unconditional and emotional supportthat came viahundreds ofvoicemails, text messages and Facebook comments from friends, family andmanystrangers.

I think the video was received so well because deep down, everyone hasinsecurities that they are afraid to share. Itcelebrates the courage it takes to unapologetically announce to the worldwho you are.

I ended up getting the most support from the place I was most afraid to tell my hometown. After fearing I'd be treatedlikean outcast, I wasfullyembraced as one of their own.

I hopethe vlog helps other people struggling with their identities, but the truth isI spent 28 years worrying about how this would be received by other people. I did this for me.

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