It’s been over a year since I first came out to one of my closest friends.

On November 17, 2018, I had finally gotten the courage I needed to open a part of my life to somebody I held so dearly. I sent a message at 3:45PM.

Hey. Are you busy?

Thirty minutes later, we were in a coffeeshop together. I was nervous. Scared. Hopeful. The whole conversation only lasted about an hour. In that time, I bore my soul and everything was okay.

That day changed a lot. It’s been a wild ride.

Now, I’m in a new city. I’m living a wonderfully queer life. I still battle depression and anxiety, but the context is different. The weight has shifted. I have a new hope.

I’ve made steps towards reconciliation with my faith. I no longer see my queerness and my Catholicity as incompatible. It’s difficult, but not impossible.

I’ve got a lot of ideas and stories to share, but something inside of me is still fighting a bit. I don’t know what it is. It makes it difficult for me to type out new words and share those stories.

This is me writing something short to overcome that. I know that my story matters. To me. To my loved ones. Maybe even to you.