#LesbianDayOfVisibility
I am an invisible lesbian.
I truly hope cases like mine are rare. But here I am. Age 44. Still in the closet and unlikely to come out any time soon.
I'm autistic. I work in software. I cope pretty well with life so long as I can get the hang of the rules. My mum is probably also autistic but I don't expect she'll ever choose to be assessed. She was also keen on rules and among those she instilled in me were: "Don't have sex before marriage". " Find a nice man and settle down".
Away from home at university I was part of an evangelical christian church. Worried about my agnosticism about the actual existence of God but the firm rules of right and wrong, good and evil, appealed to my need for rules in an otherwise confusing world. They were very firm about the evils of homosexuality. The LGB rep for my college was called Martha and had a smile that made me want to cry - and that terrified me. I avoided her because it was so confusing to see her.
And so - yeah I met a nice man. We enjoyed the same sci fi shows and other geeky hobbies. We didn't have sex. We enjoyed spending time together. We got married the summer I graduated.
Our attempts at sex were pretty much a disaster. I really didn't like it. We tried a handful of times on honeymoon and then basically gave up (he's a genuinely good man and has no interest in sex without enthusiastic consent) we read books about how to have a good sex life. Yeah we were supposed to share our fantasies. Not much to share - all my fantasies were basically "third person" imagining a man and a woman (not me) having sex in fairly vanilla ways - I hid even from myself that in these fantasies I identified with the man in the scene, making love with a woman. I had psychosexual counselling. Didn't help much. I had more counselling with a different therapist. I speculated that I might actually be a man trapped in a female body but the counsellor asked some probing questions to help me explore that possibility and I concluded that I had no way of knowing what it actually feels like to be a man, all I knew was how it feels to be me. I needed to work out how to be me.
Years passed, and my husband and I decided we wanted a child and agreed that we wanted to establish sufficient sex life to make this possible. We invested time and effort into working out when I would be most fertile. The sex didn't have to be great, we were doing it for a different reason. Thankfully I got pregnant the very first month of trying. My son is fantastic and my joy - but the first few years of parenting were tough. A couple of years later and I wanted a second child but my husband was in the grip of a deep clinical depression and couldn't bear the idea of bringing another new life into the world to suffer. A few years later his mental health improved and we embarked on a somewhat clinical process of strictly timed sex for conception purposes. Which ended in miscarriage, more depression, and eventually giving up.
It was a couple of years after that when I got my autism diagnosis and started reassessing my life in the context of this new self-understanding. I realised I am a lesbian.
But I haven't come out. I look like a heterosexual woman to all. I am ashamed to admit that I fantasise about the day my husband gets fed up and leaves (unlikely - his ongoing depression probably makes him think he doesn't deserve the happiness of an actually fulfilling relationship) or tragically dies (I do actually love him - as a friend. I don't want him dead) and I could be free to find the woman of my dreams (I'm sure Martha is happily married to the woman of her dreams by now). I have an online identity as a lesbian and can share openly with other women online but the closet door is firmly shut in real life. I haven't had sex with my husband for 5 years now. I never will again.
My son is having some problematic behavioural, social and academic difficulties. I need to focus on his wellbeing. His wellbeing would not be at all helped by his mum coming out as a lesbian and breaking up his stable home. Maybe when he is older and more settled I will have the freedom to think about my own wellbeing. Until then I shall remain an invisible lesbian.