Coming Out at 40—And Coming Alive

I used to think I had time.

That I’d come out when it felt safer.

When things calmed down.

When I could control the outcome.

But deep down, I always knew:

I couldn’t keep living a life that wasn’t mine.

I told myself I’d come out before I turned 40.

That was the deal I made with myself.

But on my 40th birthday, I was alone in Las Vegas.

And I didn’t do it.

I thought I’d feel free.

Instead, all I felt was the weight of everything I was still holding in.

All I could think about that day was: Why haven’t I done it yet?

That move across the country—leaving behind the familiar, the expected, the safe—was the first crack in the facade I’d built for decades.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Las Vegas would become the catalyst for everything that followed.

Not because the city changed me—

But because it stripped me of every distraction and comfort I had used to avoid myself.

I spent hours hiking solo through the Red Rock desert.

At first, just to escape. Then, to listen.

Something about the silence—the wind, the dry earth, the vastness—started to wake me up.

It peeled back the noise and showed me what was real.

What I was really craving wasn’t a new zip code.

It was a new level of honesty with myself.

A few weeks after that birthday, I broke.

I woke up in a full-blown panic attack.

I was trembling on the floor of my apartment in Vegas, gasping for air, heart pounding.

And in the middle of all that fear, a voice came through—

clear, calm, and unshakable:

“Just call your mom and sister and tell them you’re gay.”

I couldn’t take the pain anymore.

So I grabbed my phone and did exactly that—while still in the middle of the panic.

And after I hung up, I walked to the hospital to get treated.

My body had completely shut down from the pressure I’d been carrying for years.

What most people don’t know is—this wasn’t the first time I tried to come out.

Seven years earlier, I had told a church counselor, a small group leader, and close Christian friends. I was searching for support.

Instead, I got rejection.

Quiet, polite, spiritual rejection.

“Just read the bible.”

“You're not allowed in my small group.”

That moment sent me spiraling for another seven years.

Seven years of hiding.

Seven years of shame.

Seven years of trying to make myself smaller.

And yet—when I finally came out…

There was no backlash.

No rejection.

No shame.

My friends and family were completely supportive.

All those fears I had been clinging to for decades?

They weren’t real.

I had been believing stories that were never mine to begin with.

And those stories had steered my entire life.

Coming out wasn’t just about sexuality.

It was about truth.

It was about finally letting my full self exist—without apology, without edits.

It was about becoming who I actually was all along.

If you’re holding something in—

If you’re waiting for the “right time”—

If you’re terrified of what will happen if you let yourself be seen…

I get it.

But you deserve to live in alignment with who you really are.

Not just the parts people approve of.

All of it.

Coming out at 40 didn’t make me late.

It made me honest.

It made me free.

It made me whole.

And the truth is—

I didn’t just come out.

I came alive.

👉 If you’re hovering in the space between “not this” and “not yet,” I made The Clarity Map for you. A free guide to help you reconnect with what’s real—before you rebuild what’s next.

And if you’re ready for deeper support, I offer one-on-one Clarity Sessions to help you move forward—gently, honestly, and with full permission to just be yourself.

You’re not behind.

You’re not broken.

You’re becoming.

And that’s something to be proud of.