I want to write an eloquent coming out story for National Coming Out Day, but I’m too angry.

I want to talk about my sexuality and repression and Christianity and the Bible and theology, but I’m too angry.

I want to write intelligent things and quote theologians and challenge thinking about the Bible and homosexuality, but I am too angry.

I want to explain what it was like to come out to myself as bisexual as a thirty-two-year-old woman, but I am too angry.

I want to talk about why it didn’t feel safe emotionally or spiritually to acknowledge my emotional and sexual feelings for women prior to this, but I am too angry.

I want to talk about what it was really like to be a part of “Hollywood’s hippest evangelical church” as a closeted bisexual person, but I am too angry.

I want to talk about what it’s like to finally be coming out of the closet at thrity-two years old (but let’s be real this is an active process that is never really over), but I am too angry.

I want to talk about why I am angry that I pretended for so many years to not be angry, but I’m too angry.

I want to talk about what it’s like to have an ocean of rage bubbling up to the surface after hiding out in the Christian church for years as a straight person, while actively repressing my gayness, but I am too angry.

I want to write loving and compassionate words to the person who is not-yet-out and reading this because they want me to tell them it is okay that they are gay and that God still loves them. And guess what, God does and so do I. And yet, I’m still too angry to say much more than that.

I want to tell you about my Christian friends that started praying for me when they found out I’m a queer woman, but I’m too angry.

I’ve read a lot. I know a lot. I’ve talked to a lot of pastors over the years. I’ve sat in their living rooms and asked the hard questions. I’ve read all the books. I know what various Biblical translations say what about sex and sexuality and gayness and queerness. I want to tell you about my knowing and show you what a wise, educated, LGBTQ Christian I am, but I am too angry to quote scholars.

I had all these eloquent things I wanted to say and yet, faced with a blank page on the Medium canvas, I’m just too angry to say eloquent things beyond “I am angry.”

If you’re reading this and I don’t return your text messages or phone calls or it seems I’ve dropped off the face of the Earth this year and you haven’t seen me. Well, it’s because I’m so very angry. I don’t want to lash out at you. When I sit down with you again, I want to meet you with love.

I wanted to interview my former pastor at Reality L.A. for this coming out story, but I am still too angry.

I want to tell you what it was like to challenge homophobic thinking from inside the church’s wall as a closeted person, but I’m still angry.

I want to make you laugh and tell you about the times I was still-in-the-closet driving around Los Angeles in my Subaru Forester blasting and singing Natalie Merchant’s song “Beloved Wife” on repeat in my Birkenstocks, still believing I was straight, but I’m still angry.

I want to tell you what it’s like to be faced with your Christian friends who still think you’re living in sin for going on a date with a woman when you are a woman. Forgive me, for I am angry.

I didn’t mean to write such an angry coming out letter, but forgive me, I am angry.

I’m angry at myself for staying in the closet for so long. I know that self-forgiveness is a part of the healing journey with coming out of the closet, but forgive me, I am angry.

I want to tell you about my struggles with chronic, physical pain while hiding in the closet, but I am too angry.

I want to tell you how I didn’t grow up in a religious household and that I chose a closeted religious lifestyle for myself, but I still feel angered by this detail.

I want to tell you how gay marriage was legalized by the Supreme Court on my birthday in 2015 and I remember feeling that day like God gave me a birthday present, but I’m still too angry.

I’m angry that I internalized homophobia and took it out on myself. I’m angry at myself for the homophobia I spouted from inside the church.

I want to tell you about the psychological impact internalized homophobia and self-prejudice has had on me, but I’m too angry.

Forgive me, for I did not love myself. I did not accept you because I could not accept myself.

I’m sorry to the men I lied to about my sexuality and to those that I mistreated. When you asked me about my sexuality, I lied to you because I was lying to myself.

Forgive me, I did the best I could while hiding in the closet.

I want to thank my family and friends that have lovingly told me they just want me to be happy and that they love me no matter who I am sleeping with and no matter who I choose to love.

I know not everyone has it so easy coming out of the closet.

Forgive me, I know I took my anger out on you for many, many years. I was just so angry. If I had known, I would have told you sooner.

I want to tell those who are angry, too, and trying to come out, halfway out, debating coming out, or all the way out that it gets better.

You have a lot of reasons to be angry. It’s okay to be angry.