Whiner: A Story in Three Parts

You know what?  Sometimes?

I just feel so alone.  And trapped in my life.  And lonely.

I’ve got this very straight life, with very wonderful, but very straight friends. They’re supportive, no doubt, but they don’t quite understand what it’s like to be gay.  Or what it’s like coming out in your 30’s when you already have an established life.

And so I feel like I’m left with no one to talk to, no one to commiserate with or talk me down when things get crazy.  Which is why, I suppose, this blog came into being.

But even here, the words are out there but just sort of echo back at me.  I have no idea if this does anyone any good, especially me.  But, I keep pressing forward as the words tumble out, looking for a place to go.  Not sure, at this point, what else to do with them except to keep posting them here.


You know, it isn’t that I don’t feel like that — but even thinking it, much less writing it down in black and white, makes me feel like a big, fat whiner.  A complainer.  Someone who uses that awful “woe is me!” tone of voice too much.

I mean, generally speaking, my life is good.  I’ve got a family that while I might not be out to, they’re great people.  I’ve got an awesome bunch of friends.  A job that not only pays the mortgage but allows me to spend money on frivolous things occasionally. I’ve managed to find hobbies and recreational activities that keep me in shape and feed my spirit.  What’s to complain about?

And that’s how I end up mute.  Not talking to anyone because I always feel a little judged on whether or not I have the right to be unhappy or depressed. Or thinking that if I whine too much that I won’t have any friends left who will listen to me.  I mean, *I* don’t like listening to myself when I’m like this, why would I think someone else would enjoy the privilege?

My way of thinking is this:  a little complaining is okay.  But if you complain but never take action to correct what you’re complaining about?  Then, just shut it. Complaining without accompanying action ends up being just empty, whiny words.  And no one wants to hear the same problems over and over.

So, the answer’s right there, then, right?  Just do something about it.  Action. But – I feel stuck.  Like a deer in headlights, almost.  And then, unable to take my own advice — take some action to remedy the issue — I find myself feeling like I’m a downward spiral.  I feel bad, but don’t want to bother anybody with it.  And then I feel worse because I can’t seem to escape my own thoughts.


I’ll be okay.  I know I will.  These moods pass, the funk clears.  Some days are better than others.  I think the way out is probably talking to my family. Deep down I know that weighs on me more than I allow myself to think that it does and the stress of essentially living two lives is taking its toll.

In the meantime, better days are ahead, I’m sure of it.  Running and biking and sweating all help to beat back the bad feelings.  The return of warmth and sunlight will help immeasurably (Spring’s just around the corner, right?).  And I’ll just keep truckin’ on, trying to figure my way out of this without complaining too much.

And maybe I’ll even work on talking to someone other than this screen in front of me.


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