My Coming Out/It Gets Better Story ;) *tears while writing this*

So. My coming out, it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Why…because I’m a US Marine. I was supposed to have a bond with those I served with. We all came from the same place, went through the same things and walked the same parade deck. I didn’t expect the things that were coming to me. It started out so, so difficult. Nobody, really knows my coming out story. Nobody knows the hell and the fear I dealt with. I am a Marine…we carry the weight of the free world on our shoulders – I carried with that, the weight of fear of loving a man instead of a women. You see when you grow up…you are taught what is right and what is wrong. In my 18 years before enlisting…I was never taught, even talked to about how you ‘have to love a girl when you grow up’ and that ‘you can’t love another man.’ All through my early teens (and maybe a little beforehand) I was curious about things that only a few other of my friends were curious about. As time went on things changed. Some of those who were curious were no longer curious. Though, I still was. In high school…I was still curious, but it was on the back burner and on low. I was too busy enjoying the best things in my life. My friends, my family, my driver’s license! I hadn’t experimented with anyone in high school. It wasn’t even on my radar. When I was fresh into my senior year in high school, it was time to look into my options. What colleges do I apply to? Do I stay close to home or do I move away? What about the Military? All I knew was I wanted to be like the rest of my friends. I knew I was different, I knew I was gay…but I tried to change it. I denied it. It’s not that I was disgusted at who I was growing into. It’s just that everywhere I looked, I didn’t see anyone else like me. About halfway through the last year of high school and the start of my adult life I decided I wanted to enlist in the Marines. Now to set a picture of imperfect health for an 18 year old male; I was 6’2″ (and still am) 260lbs (give or take a few) and a modest 38″ waist. I was a horrendous mess! I first thought how was I going to even begin to make it to boot camp. The first time I met with GSgt Wattier, he showed me a brochure that put my mind in a small state of shock. I knew I was overweight…by a lot. But was I saw was my age and height, my max weight is 209lbs. I thought of backing out. But I told myself no, you need to do this. Prove everyone wrong, show them you can make it. Well, I was surprised my mom was for it, because it’s what I wanted. My dad, however, took some convincing. The only reason we needed to ask him was mom couldn’t find the divorce decree stating she had full custody and we couldn’t get the courts in Wapak to send a copy without someone coming in person (ugh, the 90′s sucked…lol…j/k). Hesitating with every stroke of his pen, dad signed the paperwork. Now y’all are thinking…why did your parents have to sign? Because I was still 17 when I enlisted, I did tell my dad that if he didn’t sign, I would wait another three months and enlist without his blessing. Gunny (GSgt Wattier) wanted me to start as early as possible in the Delayed Entry Program (DEP) so I could start working out and dropping some weight before I left for boot camp. When you first get to boot, you do a physical fitness test (PFT). In order to be placed into a training platoon you have to pass this test. At the time (1998) you needed to do a minimum of 3 pull-ups (I couldn’t do 1 and was barely doing 2 when I left for boot), 40 crunches in 2 minutes ( was meeting that minimum…by seconds) and a mile and a half in 13:30 or less…I was doing it in about 14:30. They assigned me to a platoon when I first arrived, the Senior DI had the final say so to keep me or kick me to the Physical Conditioning Platoon (PCP). So it is about 2 weeks after high school graduation…and I’m standing on the infamous yellow footprints…and about to go through the hell of in-processing and then the initial PFT. So, my first Senior DI passed me on to PCP where I spent 3 months. In those three months I went from 260lbs to 200lbs! I was running 1.5mi in about 10min flat and was doing 4 pull-ups. At this point I was put into the next group of new recruits…the nice thing here was, I already had three months of ‘mental skills’ to deal with the ‘Bulkhead…Line…Bulkhead…Line…ooops, your too slow, let’s start over’ games! I was well ahead of the curve! The games no longer got to me. They wanted me to conform, make me stronger, be one with the Corps…and I was, but I was never…I repeat never brainwashed.

So I’ve made it through boot camp. My final PFT was awesome! I did 8 pull-ups (10 was perfect), I ran a 20min 3-mile (18min was perfect) and I could do 200 crunches in 2-minutes (100 was perfect). I graduated boot weighing in at 163lbs with a 28″ waist. These three more months have gone by…and quite fast! I never had time to think about one of my main reasons to be there. Although as boot winded down and I was allowed to call myself “I” or “me” again, I started to think of what got me here and why I was here. I did it for me, I did it to prove to those who said I couldn’t and I did it because I thought it fix what was ‘wrong’ with me.

So its Thursday, December 16th, 1998…Family day. I got to see some of the closest people in my life for the first time in what seemed to be eternity…but in reality, it was 6 months. We’re in Service Bravo’s and we march out onto the parade deck. It was a crisp, cool morning. About 0930…maybe, it’s been 13 years! I immediately spotted my parents…then my sister and my cousin. I almost spent family day alone though. Had it not been for someone my mom knew through work saying something to a local church…who donated something like $600 to help her get to Parris Island to see her son graduate boot camp. When we were released for family day, I made a b-line for my parents. I purposely didn’t say a word, they walked right passed me like I thought they would. They’re big boy they sent of on June 18th, was now a skrawny, Man…a Marine. I stopped and pivoted like I had so many times in drill practice and yelled ‘Mom’ at almost the top of my lungs. She stopped dead, see, my voice hadn’t changed…and I caught her attention. She turned back to see me standing there…skinny as a toothpick with a big smile on my face. For the first time in a long time I was happy for who I was, who became…and little did I know, who I would still become. That day, I didn’t have a thought about anything except seeing my family and how proud they were. Friday, the 17th was graduation. Dress Charlie’s. Bright and early. We were on the road back to Ohio by 1400 or so. I thanked my Drill Instructors for they’re service, support and congratulations on my accomplishment. They helped me realize I could do it. They ironically, were my motivation. The more they yelled the more I wanted it. I remember, the first time on the deck for doing something stupid…my Senior (who was the spittin’ image of Burns from the Simpsons) said everyone gets a laugh today and proceeds to utter the phrase: “We are smokin’ the Roach.” So of course, the rest of boot camp I heard from all my DI’s “I think its time to smoke, Roach.” So anyway, graduation is over. We’re on the road, we stop at a Denny’s for dinner…OMG…real people food for the first time in months! AMAZING! We get home early Saturday morning…0300…to bed we go and then to our family Christmas party…which was moved to coincide with my homecoming (I love my family)! Everyone ooh’ed and ahh’ed over me…how skinny I was, how cute I got. So, I did the visit my old high school thing…more oohing and ahhing. My two weeks of leave is up…and I’m on my way to Marine Combat Training (MCT) at Camp Geiger – part of Camp Lejeune in N. Carolina. Three weeks there and then off to 29 Palms, CA. to the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center (MCAGCC) for my MOS training. I was pushed back a month for class because the original class I was in was full. So I put in for 30-days of recruiter’s assistance (RA). So I came home for a month to help my recruiter, recruit. I enjoyed myself, I got to see family, relax, not put the thoughts in my head away. Ponder what was going on up there in my head. And of course, had I not come home on this 30-days of RA…I don’t know where I would be right now. I could be starting on year number 14 in the Marines. So this is where things start to go down hill. While I was home on leave, I started seeing someone. Which, yes…was a guy. Nobody new about this. And he kept it completely under wraps. I was a fresh out of boot camp Marine doing RA in good old Toledo, OH. Info spreads like wildfire there. So, my RA time is up and I head back to 29 Stumps. I fell into a slump…I was 2800 miles away from the guy I was seeing. I felt alone. It was weird. I was roomed with three other Marines all PFC’s (Private First Class). After a couple weeks of being back, everyone kept asking why I was so ‘out of it’ and I just said I didn’t want to talk about it. And I still have this nightmare…because after I made that remark one of my roommates made the comment “Dude if you’re gay, I’ll fucking kill you.” Two nights later, I woke up in a cold sweat because I had a nightmare he was slitting my throat as I lay there helpless, being held down by the other two roommates. I slept uncomfortably for a couple weeks. I decided I needed to tell someone. By this time, training has started for my MOS (Military Occupational Skill). I called my mom. But the first couple of times we talked, I just couldn’t say it. Not that someone was around me and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t say the words. I was so, afraid of what would or wouldn’t be said. Finally, I was on the phone with her. I was in the room alone, nobody was there. Nobody was supposed to be there. I asked her if she was home, she said no. I said, I need you to call me when you are home. She kept asking why, what’s wrong. I told her, I wouldn’t tell her anything until she was home. Needless to say, she called me back 15 minutes later, from home. I locked myself in the head and told her I was gay. I was balling so hard, I had to repeat myself. We talked for a few minutes and she said…honey I always kinda knew. Then I paused and said, why didn’t you say something…this might have been easier. Thank God for that, because it calmed me down at this point I started hearing stuff in the background, but I knew it wasn’t her…she was home alone. It had to be a roommate of mine. I said mom, I have to go. I got in the shower, the door to the head still locked, so I didn’t look like I spent the last 1/2 hour crying. I walked out of the head and there is a room full of Marines. Some I know, some I’ve seen in the training area. I was virtually given the ultimatum of either you say something to the MSgt. or we make sure you go home, in a box. 13 to 1 odds were not good. So I sat down with our MSgt. and told him I was gay. The process from here is nothing but demeaning and disgraceful. I felt like I was doing the walk of shame as I had my bags packed, leaving the training barracks for the MPP (Marine Processing Platoon). Word seemed to get around quickly that I was being discharged and why I was being discharged. It was comforting to know that many of the guys I personally knew at 29, said it was a sad thing that I was being discharged. There were times when I felt very unsafe. A lot of people knew why I was going home. It’s not like I was leaving because I did something illegal or lied about something on my paperwork. I was going home because I liked to be with men instead of women. The two months I spent in MPP were good most of the time and had its bad moments. MPP had 4 barracks buildings with the room to house 280 Marines for in or out processing. I ended up staying in the main building of the three. One was used for in processing and the other was used for out processing. The main building was the initial entry point for in processing. The front have of the main barracks was desks with a “reception” desk vending machines, fridges and a lounge area with a TV. I was the only one staying in the main building. I ended up assisting the SSgt who was in charge of MPP. So as a PFC (Non even a NCO rank) I held the billet of a Sgt’s position. I was a PFC in charge of incoming Marines for their MOS training. And let me tell you the Lance Corporal’s (LCpl’s) and Corporal’s (Cpl’s) didn’t like it! I thought it was awesome! But surprisingly, this time was a great time. Even though I was going home…I enjoyed this part of the process.

The actual investigation was not so enjoyable. The questions, the back and forth between the Admin office and barracks just to answer one question or sign one thing was annoying and demeaning. Every time it felt like a walk of shame. Which wasn’t helping my self-esteem at all. By this time, I started talking to other family members and telling them I was coming home and why. I asked, begged and pleaded with mom to tell my dad. She did. I don’t know all of what he said, and I’m sure it wasn’t pretty. I remember making a phone call to him on Easter of 99. It was a warm sunny morning in the California desert but that phone call was so cold. When I ended the phone call with Love you dad…all he could say was ‘uh huh’ and hung up. Not even a ‘Bye.’

So, many of you don’t know what the paperwork looks like or the stuff you have to go through for a discharge under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” It’s uncomfortable. During the process I had a 1stSgt tell me that “people like you should have to pay back what it costs to train you and then put in jail.” That didn’t go over to well with the CO. After two months from the time I tolt my MSgt I was gay to the time the final paperwork was issued and signed, it was 07MAY99. I was going home. So the hardest part of my coming out was over. The only obstacle was my dad. The next phone call I had with him went just like the first one. Cold and morose. The next call was a little more eventful. It went stop fucking calling here. I don’t want to talk to you. I want nothing to do with you. I don’t associate with people like you. You’re sick…don’t call here. And he hung up. I was mortified. The next encounter was I should rip your head off your shoulders and shit down your throat. If your grandmother were still alive, this would have killed her. I told everyone I took out a TRO, it was enough to keep him away from me until he cooled down. I was freaked out! I didn’t know what to do. From then on, whenever he came over or called to talk to/see my mom or sister. He would say ‘is Vanessa t/here or is Brandy t/here?’ Like I didn’t exist to him. It took him about five years to fully come around. We have a better relationship now than we’ve ever had. He’s apologized and I’ve forgiven him but have not forgotten what’s been said. Now he calls me a man-whore. Mom is mom and the rest of my family except a couple of my Uncles…have no issues. And to ‘those uncles…’ I know which ones. Remember these two things:

1. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

2. What goes around comes around.

So for those of you who are curious to know what the paperwork looks like, I have included all of the paperwork from my discharge including the questions they ask and the statement I had to make.

And to this I say: It does get better.

Mom I love you for loving me for who I am. Thank you for always being there for me when I have needed you the most.

Sis…I love you too. Despite all the hard times you gave me and the name calling…you’ve listened and talked with me when I needed someone.

Dad: I love you too, even though for quite sometime, it was the hardest thing to think about. You’ve made amends with me and for that I am grateful and thank you for coming back into my life.

DD214 – You’ll want to see this to believe it!

Discharge Paperwork – Now a PDF instead of 23 separate images, easier to view

Tags: Coming Out, homosexuality, it get's better