What I Wish I Knew Before Coming Out: A Therapist’s Perspective on Truth, Fear, and Emotional Safety
Coming out is not a single moment.
It’s not one conversation, one reveal, or one brave announcement. Coming out is a process — an unfolding with yourself, your family, your relationships, and your community.
Hi there, I’m Raquel Perez, a licensed therapist here in Colorado and the creator of Everyday Therapy. Today I want to share something deeply personal — my own coming out story, and more importantly, the things I wish I could go back and tell my younger self.
As someone who lived this experience and now works as a therapist supporting people through identity exploration, LGBTQ+ mental health, and emotional healing, my hope is that this post gives you clarity, compassion, and a sense of safety for your own insight.
If you're in the middle of your own coming out process — or supporting someone who is — this reflection is for you.
1. The Liberation I Didn’t See Coming
Looking back, the first thing I wish I knew is this:
On the other side of fear was freedom.
When I was hiding pieces of myself, everything felt tight, heavy, and endless. I worried about how people might look at me. I imagined rejection. I thought the fear would never go away.
But I couldn’t see yet that coming out wasn’t about eliminating fear — it was about releasing the grip of hiding.
The moment I began to live more fully, more honestly, and with more self-permission, something softened. My breath deepened. My body unclenched.
Authenticity became oxygen.
Coming out didn’t cure everything. But it gave me room to live instead of perform. And that liberation — that deeper exhale — was something my younger self could never have imagined.
2. Learning Emotional Safety in My Body
One of the biggest lessons I wish I had learned earlier — and one I teach every day in my work — is this:
Courage is a body experience.
Safety is a body experience.
At the time, I thought bravery meant pushing through fear. But trauma-informed therapy, polyvagal theory, and lived experience have taught me that courage comes from soothing, not suppressing.
No one told me how deeply fear lives in the body:
the tightening in the chest
the pit in your stomach
the shaky hands
the racing thoughts
the feeling of being “too much” or “not enough”
Those sensations weren’t proof that something was wrong with me. They were signs that my body was protecting me.
If I had learned grounding, breathwork, and emotional regulation earlier, I would have moved through the process more gently.
And this is so important:
Shame is taught.
Fear is learned.
Your truth is innate.
Learning to listen to your body — instead of overriding it — is one of the most healing parts of the coming out journey.
(If you want support around this, my free booklet “Sacred Spaces” is linked below — it helps you create emotional safety for insight.)
3. Untangling What Was Taught From What Was True
Another thing I wish I knew sooner:
Not every belief in your head belongs to you.
So many of my fears were inherited — from culture, family, religion, and the silence around sexuality. These weren’t truths; they were stories I absorbed without consent.
Some of the questions I wish I had asked earlier:
Is this belief mine — or did someone hand it to me?
Who taught me that this was “wrong”?
What feels true in my body, even if it’s not approved by others?
What do I want my relationship with myself to be?
Coming out — in all its forms — is often the process of sorting:
What is mine?
What never was?
This work takes time, reflection, and compassion — and in many ways, it never fully ends.
4. Finding My People, My Community
Something I wish I had done long before I actually did:
Lean into the people who could hold me.
When you’re coming out, it’s easy to focus on who might reject you. But in hindsight, there were always people who were ready to love me exactly as I was — people who were safe, supportive, and affirming.
Sometimes your people are friends.
Sometimes family.
Sometimes chosen family.
Sometimes online spaces.
Sometimes queer community groups.
Sometimes a therapist who can reflect your truth back to you with compassion and care.
Community transforms isolation into belonging.
I wish I had let myself reach for that sooner.
5. Worthiness, Identity, and Joy
I wish I had known:
There was nothing wrong with me.
I wasn’t broken.
My identity wasn’t something to fix or hide.
I spent so much time trying to be “acceptable” — performing perfection, pleasing others, staying small.
But here’s the truth:
You are worthy of love and joy exactly as you are — not once you prove anything, not once you make everyone comfortable.
Your queerness is not something to overcome.
It is something to honor.
It is something that deserves space.
6. Letting Go of Performance
For so long, I thought coming out had to be big — loud, dramatic, a final declaration that wrapped everything up neatly.
But coming out doesn’t have to be a performance.
You get to choose:
how you come out
who you share with
when you share
how much you reveal
what parts of your story belong only to you
Coming out is your story.
You can move at your own pace.
You have time.
Closing Reflections: You Are Not Broken
If you’re somewhere in your own coming out journey, here’s what I want you to know:
You are not broken.
Nothing is wrong with you.
You deserve love, joy, belonging, and truth — without shrinking or shaping yourself to fit inside someone else’s comfort.
This process isn’t about rushing to the finish line.
It’s about creating safety, compassion, and connection along the way.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to download my free guide Sacred Spaces: Creating Safety for Insight — a gentle companion for identity exploration and emotional healing.
And if you want deeper support, I offer individual therapy, couples therapy, and sex therapy for adults throughout Colorado — all grounded in trauma-informed care and the belief that safety makes insight possible.
You don’t have to navigate this alone.
Your truth is worthy.
Your story is yours.
