I am going to jump ahead a bit.  Deana and I “dated” for about a year while I continued on the “business relationship” with my husband; we were really just together for the financial pieces and the kids.  But around a year we started the divorce process on friendly terms, though I never told him about Deana.  I moved in with Deana and it was a very happy time, all things considered.  But we both had no intentions of “coming out”; we both had huge risks of losing our jobs, we were both very much in love and happy, but both felt our relationship (as wonderful and fulfilling as it was) was wrong.  This was a weird time for us……being so very happy and whole, but feeling as though everything about our relationship was illicit.  I had no desire to tell my family (apart from my mom), and she felt the same way about her family (she has 7 siblings, she being the 3^rd born and the oldest daughter).  So, all the people in our lives and work believed she was helping me out as I transitioned to being divorced.  This made a lot of sense to everyone because the cost of living in Southern California was so high.  Eventually, we bought a house together – using the same “it’s too expensive” argument – and even had a room designated for me, though I never even spent one night in it.  We were very careful during this time.

Also during this time, we remained involved in church as well.  Our careers at the Christian Credit Union were going well, both of us having received several promotions.  We also had “weekly staff meetings” held for all employees, though it really was a chapel and included worship and a message.  I was part of the worship team there as well as the worship team in our church.  Deana and I would often read through the Bible trying to decide if we were breaking God’s heart, but were not willing to break up with each other, so we felt double guilt.  During this time, I also went back to college, hoping to obtain my bachelor’s degree which I had started on and off since my first marriage, though did not sustain due to babies and finances.  Deana was a huge part of that, attending some classes with me even though she already had 2 degrees.  Finally, I enrolled at BIOLA University (Bible Institute of Los Angeles), in their BOLD program for working adults (Bachelor’s in  Organization Leadership Degree).  I really wanted to go to a Christian University and the degree required a minor in Bible, so that was right up my alley.  But, to enroll you had to sign a moral contract, and declaring you were not homosexual was part of it.  I signed it – what could I do? – and added yet another layer of deception.  I often chastised myself that I had given up one lie, to move in a new one.  It was very difficult.

I loved BIOLA and worked hard, graduating in 2009.  My work, who was associated with the university and in fact included many in leadership who got their degrees there too, encouraged my efforts.  I was already a supervisor and was on the track for leadership.  I was often sought after for work related activities as well as ministry/biblical teaching tasks.  Despite the duplicity of my life, things were good and my faith (as well as Deana’s) were very strong during this time, even as we would quietly question how much we were disappointing our Lord.

About five years into this, I had reached a boiling point – I could no longer lie about our relationship.  It was wrong, and I felt we should at least be honest with our family.  This was a bone of contention with Deana, who felt it too risky with our jobs to tell anyone.  One night while we were hanging out with her sister and my best friend, Deana had a little too much to drink and suggested that she and I were together.  She then back pedaled, saying it was a joke.   Her sister and my friend had suspected for some time, and seemed to be wanting to assure me that they supported our union, but when they sat with us to basically say “we know, you can trust us”, Deana turned livid and began to speak so negatively about homosexuals she could have been at a Baptist pulpit bringing down fire and brimstone.  It broke my heart on many fronts; not just the rejection of finally being able to be honest and have two close people accept us, but I realized that I had been leading her to do something that was against her core.  In retrospect, I also realize she was very scared of our house of cards crumbling, but at the time I didn’t allow for that to take hold of my emotions. I want to be clear though, my actions after this point may have been under the umbrella of “I have forced Deana to go against her convictions”, but were more from my hurt of the rejection than any care for Deana.

Shortly after that, I left Deana.  It was the hardest thing I have ever done and now something I contribute to one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, but I would no longer live with the duplicity, and I could not feel her hold me without hearing the vicious things she said that day about basically our relationship.  Sure, I could tell you I was being honorable, releasing her from the sin of our illicit love, but I was too hurt to continue with her despite my overwhelming love for her.  She was completely blindsided by my actions, as by now we had adopted two kids from Russia, she was not working, and relied on me financially.  In her hurt and anger, she posted a blog (we blogged very heavily back then) “outing” us, divulging our entire relationship for all to see.  As many of her followers worked with us (her blog had started as part of our adoption process, or really HER adoption process since everyone didn’t know we were a couple) it was quickly communicated to the leadership.

Despite just the week before having been told by the CEO that I was a “rising star”, I was brought into HR and basically interrogated for 5 hours.  Even when I needed to go to the bathroom, I was escorted and a woman stood outside the stall as if I was a criminal.  I refused to speak about anything apart from my job performance, though I heard how my “moral failing” disqualified me from leadership, management, and even playing the drums in the worship band.  It eventually ended with them saying we would reconvene the next day and they would let me know what would happen to my position.

At the time, I had been going to therapy as I was really having a hard time with not sharing my relationship with Deana to our family.  I told my therapist what had happened at work, and she immediately put me on disability so that wasn’t subjected to their “torture” as she called it.  During that time, I had sought legal and other help to see what options I had, but the credit union had recently filed as a religious organization (yeah, lending money to churches is religion?  Hmmmm) and their stance was that they could absolutely discriminate based on their religious beliefs.  Anyway, I never went back and did end up negotiating a “departure package”, but in an instant I lost my job, 99% of my friends related to work, 100% of my friends related to church, and was even told I could not attend church or step foot on the credit union’s property. Nor could my children or my eventual grandchildren.

At this time it was very dark for me.  I had lost Deana, I had lost my job, I had lost most of my support system, and I was seriously questioning my faith as I had seen a side of it that was so venomous, it appeared like they were instead followers of Satan.  In fact, despite being told the information in HR would be confidential, rumors and details from that meeting (and not the blog) went in every direction coupling me with many different women at the firm in addition to Deana. If I had to label myself at this time, I would say I was “an agnostic that loved Jesus”.  I didn’t want to kick Jesus to the curb, but anything to do with church or Christians were no longer part of my world.  I was extremely hurt by Deana, who I blamed for causing this mess (it was easy to ignore my part in it). Adding to my negative view of Deana was my best friend (who was a Director at the credit union and ultimately lost her job as they learned she knew about my relationship with Deana) would tell me horrible stories about Deana and what she told HR after the blog was read.  I believed everything I heard that was negative about her, and all the anger and hurt I felt for everything that was happening I laid on Deana’s shoulders.  But at night it was a different story – at that time, I would cry for her.  She was my home.  I truly thought I was created to be with her, and in those moments the “evil Deana” did not exist.  I was too scared to reach out to Jesus other than to ask Him to hold me so I could sleep.

Having lost everything, it’s hard to hide.  So, since the proverbial crap had already hit the fan, I decided I’d update my family.  Kirstie was the first person I told; she was 17 at the time.  I was so nervous, but it went extremely well and she’s has been accepting and loving from day one.  She often shares that anyone that insists being LGBT is a choice, they should have seen my face that day; I was so scared she thought I was going to tell her I was dying and the fear of losing her was obvious. She says no one would come out with such fear if they had a choice. But I didn’t lose her. My siblings all seemed not overly shocked, in fact, a few said they always thought I was and the others said it made sense.  Of course my mom already knew.  My Dad was loving, though he said his wife Ellie would probably have an issue with it (she is a Charismatic Christian), though she’s never treated me differently.  My Dad has gotten a bit more conservative and has told me he is concerned that I might be going to hell, but I have long since accepted he is speaking from a place of love. 

For her part, Deana did the same, and received many of the same responses from her family. Her Mom was extremely supportive, her siblings the same, some even saying they’d seen us give small kisses to each other over the years. It is almost funny to look back on now.

Deana and I reconciled about a year after the fiasco, though candidly we often saw each other during this time and never really left each other.  While she absolutely posted the blog (and took it down, though too late), she didn’t do the majority of things my best friend accused her of.  And, really, I loved her too much not to be with her, and she loved me too much not to be with me.  We both made mistakes and had regrets, but our love sustained us. We never really reconciled with any of our close friends during that time, but many whom we worked with have since reached out to us and most are advocates, if not supportive.  Our kids are thriving.  We were legally married in NY in 2011.  Though we lost everything, we have been restored ten times over and are so thankful.

Our walk with the Lord was not immediate, however.  I was truly jaded and if I heard the words “Christian”, “Evangelical”, or “Church” I immediately associated them with hateful, judgmental people.  I wanted nothing to do with any of it.  While I was not willing to throw Jesus in with that, my relationship with Him was strained at best.  There was a part of me that felt that, if He had only healed me, I wouldn’t be in this mess.  But the main thought at this time was that the majority of Christians wanted me dead and had no love in any part of their being for me or anyone who fell outside of their boxed view of humanity.  The only piece of church that I could NOT let go of was worship; it was so ingrained in me that I kept listening to it, played it, participated in it in my personal way, and let that be my church.

That is hard to sustain, however.  I wanted my kids to know the love of Christ in a real way, and if I was honest with myself, I missed the fellowship.  I found a new job in Texas and we moved in 2009; once there we found a gay church (I say that because there were mostly gay men in attendance) and my views changed.  For the first time ever, we were honest about our relationship AND opening worshiped, prayed, and learned about God!  I became part of the teaching staff, and was slowly healed to accept my faith and not basically hate Christians.

(I’m rushing a little sorry, but this is getting long)

One of the things I learned there was that being gay was not as bad as we were told.  A great resource of this is Shaw Ministries, one of the women I met and worshipped with.  She had an excellent dvd that breaks down the scriptures.  I am not sure if she updates her site, but you can find it at https://shawministries.org/  She also has a blurb at our old church here http://www.crossroadscommunitychurch.us/homosexuality-and-the-bible.html

My teenage/high school years were rough, I am not going to lie.  On the surface, I had a great life; I was outgoing, did well in school, had many acquaintances and friends, had the trust of my parents, and appeared to be very, very happy.  But inside I was dying.  I was still very different from my friends, and I was actively fighting my attraction to girls.  While I don’t want to blame this on the depression I suffered, it certainly added to the pain of it.  I often missed school for days at a time due to my depression (untreated), though I kept my grades up.  My parent’s “hands off” approach to my schooling, especially as my grades were often A’s and sometimes B’s, seemed to extend to them not really wondering why this occurred and we never addressed it.  I am type A and a perfectionist by nature, and in later years they shared that they just assumed that I was dealing with that at the time.  And they were partially correct, but a bit and undiscovered reason was that my entire life was a lie.  I was “on” 24/7, presenting to the world what I thought they wanted to see, and inside I knew (even if I didn’t acknowledge it in words) that what I presented was not authenticity, but a complete lie.  I was NOT happy, I was NOT perfect, and it became clearer with each day that I was NOT straight.  I talk about this a bit in my blog here.  I would encourage you to read this blog entry as it touches, at a high level, what I had intended to share with you via these “entries”.

I accepted Christ when I was 16, and He changed my life in countless way.  I believed at that moment that my struggles would end.  That I would be whole, and that meant I would no longer be attracted to women.  I felt as though being saved and loving Jesus would create a new Gina, and He did, but I soon realized that this new vessel still very much was pulled to women.  When I realized this truth, I immediately felt as though I was doing something wrong; I was not faithful enough, I didn’t work hard enough at church or on my walk with Christ, maybe when I accepted Him I didn’t really give Him everything…….the list went on and on. Bottom line, I believed there was a deficiency in me that was holding me back from everything Jesus had planned for me, and I needed to fix that.  I remained in that realm for the next 19 or so years.

I married a godly man at 20 and we were uber active in ministry.  Worship band, marriage ministry, children’s ministry, were in a traveling Christian band that ministered all over the state.  I tried to be selfless, I tried to be so many things.  I cried painfully in my prayer life to God, begging Him to heal me, begging for direction on what I needed to do to move from my attractions.  Through it all, I was an empty shell, while continuing to present to the world the perfect wife, perfect Christian, eventually tried to be the perfect mom, and always stared at the mirror knowing I was none of those things.  Worst of all, I was a liar and a fake.  I couldn’t be saved and serve Christ when, really, I was gay.  Even when other’s met Jesus through my actions and ministries, they felt like failures, because I REALLY wasn’t a “true Christian” because of my sin.  And I hated myself for it.

At 25, my husband, 3 year old daughter (my only child at the time), and I moved to San Antonio, Texas.  He and I began to work at the same small company, where a very out and “butch” lesbian worked in the kitchen (it was a fresh food vending machine company).  I was dumb struck – not because I was attracted to her, but it was the first lesbian I met in the flesh.  We couldn’t be more different, but I was drawn to her out of curiosity and maybe because I felt like I was not the only one on the earth like “me”.  She also fully embraced her sexuality, which was something very new for me.  We became friends and she awkwardly fell in love with me, which was very flattering but also terrifying.  I also was going through a very real life crisis, as hearing about her life made me want to be honest and open, too.  But the truth at the time was that was impossible; I was a Christian, I was married, I was a mom, I was a daughter, and everyone in my life would be SOOOOOO upset and/or disappointed if they found out the truth about me.  And, truth be known, I was also very ashamed that I was gay.  VERY ashamed.  I wanted to be able to embrace it, but I really thought it was wrong.  My husband and I were also having marital problems; I knew I had married him for the wrong reasons (I wanted to be straight and needed a strong, church loving man to keep me accountable and also help indirectly make me appear to be normal) and we were also struggling financially.  I also resented very much moving to Texas.  It was the perfect storm of horribleness.

As we were losing our apartment, the electricity having been disconnected for non-payment, I refused to go to his parent’s place and remained alone in the apartment.  I called my dad crying (I was super close to him throughout my life), fully intending to tell him the truth about my struggles, but I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t be honest.  I was so afraid of losing his love, and his comments throughout my childhood about gays resonated in my mind.  He begged me to come home, but I refused.  After hanging up, I sat in the dark room, where no furniture remained, and for the first time thought about suicide.  I mean, Jesus evidently didn’t love me enough to heal me and I was sure it was because even He knew I was not worth it.  My parents would hate me if they knew about me.  My husband would be devastated.  And I believed I would damage my daughter.  I went all the way to actually slitting my wrist about 2 inches, but then I had the horrible vision of my daughter being told when she was older how I died.  Despite having no desire to continue in the struggles I was facing, I just couldn’t bring myself to do that, and stopped right then and there.  I still have the faded scar from that night that reminds me how close I came to ending my life.

Instead, my mom (who was by now separated from my dad, and whom I was not very close to – another long story I will skip for now) called me and said she was flying me to live with her.  She didn’t really give me much of a choice.  I resented that really, and had no desire to open up to her at the time, but the idea of putting on my mask with my husband and his parents seemed much worse of a burden to bear.  So I flew back to California and stayed with her.  I actually opened up to her within days, as described in this blog entry, though it is less important to share at this time – so if you want to skip it for now please do!  Well actually, it IS pretty important in that it was the first time I told anyone and, though I was looking for her to “scare me straight” instead of sitting at her house and doing nothing to fix my situation, she instead loved me and accepted me.  It was a big moment.  My life didn’t come together for many years in regards to my sexuality, but it was the beginning of me not seeing Jesus with an angry, disappointed face when I begged Him to heal me.  Instead, He slowly began to take on a face that showed love despite my situation……

I returned to my husband out of “Christian guilt” and a newfound strength to get through my thorn in my side and become the straight woman I was intended to be.  I also didn’t want to impact my daughter negatively with a divorce.  We “worked things out”, but I still was very good at pretending most of the time and I can’t say I was overly happy in the marriage.  But he was a nice guy, a kind man most of the time, a pretty good father, so I toughed it out and did what I thought I needed to do.

Jump forward about 9 years; I was starting a new job at a Christian Credit Union and I thought God would be pleased.  I was excited to be back in a Christian organization (I had worked for a few others over the years) and I was excited for my future.  Suddenly, this beautiful woman came into the lobby to meet me and the three other new hires to tell us that the Orientation Manager was delayed in traffic and would be with us shortly.  It was the first time in my 35 years of life where the attraction I felt was overwhelming, and as I was sure I heard angels singing behind her, I thought for the first time “this could be the one” and then proceeded to nearly throw up.  Imagine me, beginning to work at a CHRISTIAN ORGANIZATION, and be hit with a love at first site moment WITH A WOMAN!  The dissonance in that moment almost killed me.  In fact, I was so scared that I called my previous job and begged them to take me back.  While they actually agreed, in reality my desire to get to know her overruled the part of me that wanted to run away from sure fire and brimstone.

We slowly became friends as I unofficially pursued her for nearly a year.  Throughout that time I knew I loved her and I knew I’d like nothing better than to be in a relationship with her, but there were many problems with that idea; first of all, I was married.  Second, I was a Christian and same-sex attraction was wrong.  Third, she came from a very conservative religious background (Independent Baptist, where she didn’t even wear pants until she was almost 28 and caused an uproar when she finally did).  Finally, dang I could lose my job if this came out!  If you asked me then, I had no intentions of acting on my attraction with her, I just wanted to be friends even if I knew I would love to have more if it wasn’t so wrong.

One piece of info I missed – by this time my marriage was not great.  I was not a great wife, and my husband was not a great husband.  We went through the motions, we didn’t really fight, but we just sort of lived parallel lives, paid the bills together, etc.  He had several different views about finances than I did, and that on top of my suppressed sexuality really built walls that we no longer tried to break down.

Then one day, as Deana was at my house helping me color Easter eggs with my kids (I had 3 by this time; Kirstie was about 12, Kenny was 7, and Josh was 2) I received a call from my sister-in-law that my 20 year old nephew had been killed in a car accident and my brother desperately needed me.  I rushed to be at his side, and was with him until about 11pm that night.  Being strong for him while also dealing with my own loss and emotions, I drove home and felt sorry for myself.  I knew my husband would not be very productive in comforting me (even before our problems arose), and I resented that as the “strong person” for my family, I had no one to turn to where I could be the weak one.  In that moment I decided Deana would and could be that person for me, and she was very empathetic as we’d become very good friends at this point.  In the weeks leading up to this moment, I had also been struggling with the fact that I was a liar to her as well, pretending to be this friend of hers while hiding my true feelings.

That night, as I broke down over the loss of my nephew, I realized that life was fleeting and maybe the truth really CAN set you free.  And there was a strong need for me to be authentic with at least those who cared enough about me – Deana, of all, should at least know the truth.  If I lost her friendship, at least I knew I had some integrity left.  While I didn’t plan on it, I ended up telling her that I loved her.  The weird thing was, she didn’t freak out.  Well, she eventually did ha, but not enough to stop her from telling me that she had feelings for me, too.  That moment was so freeing and so scary and was the beginning of a road that was very difficult, but it felt very good to get it off my chest.

I was raised in an “American Christian Household”, but I guess I should qualify that.  My family was a bit controversial before I was even born; my mom was 9 years older than my dad, divorced with 4 kids already, and was NOT Catholic.  My dad, who was only 23 at the time, had been raised in a very Catholic household even though is father was Methodist, was the only son to my grandparents, and divorce was a four letter word back then in the 60’s.  Ironically, though my maternal Grandma was Italian, she had converted to Protestantism, which apparently is a big deal as well.  My paternal Grandma was very against my parent’s marriage, though was a very big part of my life despite this rough start.  For my own life, I was never taken to church by my parents, although religion touched many aspects of my life; my dad read Luke each Christmas, held to many of the tenets of his faith such as not using the Lord’s name in vain, and would reference God in stressful situations or as thanks for good happenings.  My mom was less rigid in her beliefs, though both made sure we prayed before meals, were kind to others, etc.  They never withheld church from us, allowing us to attend with friends, etc.  And I always remember they both very clearly had an ethos that said, “we believe in Jesus, but your faith is your faith and we support you finding what that means for yourself”.

I have always considered myself protestant, though my paternal grandma made sure to take me to mass with her whenever she visited, or I visited her.  I didn’t mind it, but I was never baptized in the Catholic church, and honestly the horrible stories that my dad did share about how cruel the nuns were to him during his years in Catholic school didn’t make me interested in seeking out more.  I always remember “knowing” God through His Son, but at this point in my life it was more ambiguous and ethereal based on my limited learning.  But, sometimes I look back and think perhaps that was one of the most pure times in my interactions with Him, because I just KNEW He was there for me and many of the burdens religion brought to my shoulders did not yet exist.

When I was about 7, my sister – who is 10 years older than I am – got involved with the Jesus Movement via Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa in California, where we lived.  It was a fun and crazy time, with all these people that looked like leftover hippies playing rock music, being friendly with each other, and being “on fire” or “Jesus Freaks”.  I can’t say that my parents resonated with it per se, but again they were pretty liberal in their approach to letting their kids find their own way in the faith realm.  My sister was definitely on fire; she did several local missionary trips, was very involved in church activities, made Jesus seem even more personal to me, and was very instrumental in bringing me into the fold.  I still have the bible she gave me in 1977 – The Way – the first time I had read the bible and it actually made sense!!!!  These years were foundational for my own walk with the Lord, though it was still very dependent on my sister, who soon moved out and began her independent life and didn’t consistently like having her little sister tagging along.

Another path of my life was my sexuality.  It would be erroneous to suggest I “knew” I was gay during this time, but I was definitely a bit different than my friends.  My parents were also very advanced (I believe) in avoiding gender roles, and never were ones to say girls or boys had to act certain ways.  I was encouraged to be myself just as my younger brother was (I can’t speak for my 4 older siblings really).  I was always a tomboy, very athletic, hated fancy clothes and dresses, would prefer to be playing sports, running and getting dirty, or building things with my dad than anything that would fall under the traditional female gender umbrella.  My brother, though athletic in his own way, preferred cooking, art, and such.  We never felt “weird” by this in our household, but as I got older and started visiting my friend’s houses, spending the night, etc. it became clear that our family – and my own way of living – was not the same as my friends or their siblings.  And even more puzzling, the girls WANTED to do “girl things” and the boys WANTED to avoid them in place for “macho” things.  I was internally repulsed and extremely confused.  Even still, I began to realize I was different, though was not aware of all the points until I grew older.  However, it is important to note that at about 9 or 10 was when I started to put on masks to morph myself into appearing to be “like everyone else”.  I toned down some of my tomboyishness, etc. 

As I moved into my pre-teen years and puberty arrived, it became clearer to me that my differences were much stronger than being a tomboy.  I distinctly remember having a crush on a female teacher and that caused me great concern.  While my mom’s oldest brother was gay and had been with his husband my entire life, it was not a huge topic of conversation and I had no other point of reference otherwise.  Additionally, my dad would make comments such as “Jodie Foster is a lesbo” whenever she’d come on TV and I picked up the fact that was not a compliment.  I had already established a strong “I must be compliant” M.O. in my life, and it was clear that liking girls would not meet that requirement.  So I kept it to myself and worked harder to act more like my friends.  I would talk about the boys I had crushes on, etc.  I really DID like boys, but more because we had more in common, played sports together, etc.  I would be lying if I didn’t say that I actually was attracted to some too, though in retrospect they often had longer hair, were not macho, etc.  But some were just pretty great guys that I enjoyed being around.  I was also very fortunate to have a very outgoing personality, so getting their attention was not very hard despite my proclivity of being more of a tomboy (and being super skinny, flat chested, etc.).