Forced out.

I had a moment of feeling brave with someone I trusted so deeply and the implications of allowing myself to be vulnerable with her were devastating and potentially fatal. She wounded me on a spiritual level and I accepted that it was my fault. That I was unworthy of love. Trust. Friendship. Kindness. Or respect. She asked me if I was gay. A secret I pledged, before this very second, to take to my grave. I looked at my best friend, and admitted for the first time to anyone besides myself, that I was infinitely attracted to women. Immediately following this, she outed me to my entire team. She told my coach. I accepted this as proof of all of my worst fears. That I was nothing. To anyone. Or myself. And I shrank into the emptiness of depression and suicidal thoughts and behaviours. I guess in my heart I’ve always known that she messed up. Some part of me knew that it was her mistake and not my own. It just never made it less painful. I lost a friend and I lost the part of myself that still believed there was hope for me. It took a long time to heal. And I still don’t know if I have.