Coming out at the age of 33 was the hardest thing Wayne Elliott has ever done. Devastated that his life of lies was destroying his beloved wife and cherished children, he hit rock bottom and almost made a huge mistake.

Wayne (pictured at right) tells Same Same his story in his own words.

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I was born in conservative country town in NSW. At the age of five months I contracted meningitis, and when I was three they discovered I was deaf. But my mother was not deterred by the fact that her son was different to the other kids in the street – I was treated like any normal child, so you could say that I had the usual childhood upbringing. Playing sports, mucking around with friends, and riding my BMX bike around town without a care in the world.

Things started to change when I hit 16. I started to notice the way I would look at guys compared to girls. I would get this strange feeling of butterflies in my stomach. But I couldn’t put my finger on the reason why I was feeling this way. It felt weird – excitement and fear at the same time.

I started to avoid eye contact with any of the guys. I even made sure I didn’t look at anyone getting changed during sport and phys-ed time, because I had overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame. I thought what I was feeling was not what a 16-year-old boy should be feeling.

I wanted to search for answers, but in our conservative country town there was nowhere to go. There was no way I was going to tell my parents I had feelings for guys and didn’t understand what they meant. So I tried to suppress them by fitting in with the crowd.

After I left school I experienced my first same sex sexual encounter. My best friend and I went horse riding and camped out overnight. It was quite a traumatic experience – the feeling of excitement, joy and pleasure at being able to embrace my sexuality, but also the shame and guilt I felt because I thought what we were doing was wrong.

Small town homophobia

My first experience of homophobia came at the age of 20. It was one the many turning points of my life, one that I can still remember as clear as if it happened yesterday.

I was playing competitive tennis at the local tennis club. There was a rumour that a friend of mine who was married had just come out. He was playing tennis that night, so I decided to approach him to talk about it. But when I sat down next to him, I was grabbed by the arm and dragged away. I was told not to talk to him, because he was a bad influence and needed to be run out of town… “he has no place in society.”

That weekend there was an article in the local paper about him and his sexuality, and the shame he had put on his family and children. There were letters to the editor, condemning his actions. His life destroyed, he soon left town.

So I completely shut down and chose to never come out. I withdrew emotionally and mentally from my parents, family, friends and society. I started to live a lie, thinking that I would be happy if I made everyone around me happy. I focused my energy on things that matter to others and not me – I would do the ‘normal guy’ things such as chase the girls to impress them, and go to pubs with the guys every Friday night.

At 21 and still living at home, my parents would ask me when I was going to settle down, get married and have children. The possibility of getting married terrified me, but it had to be done, it was what everyone else did – get married, buy a house, have children… that is what we’re supposed to do, right? I thought it would also distract me from my true sexual feelings. And I had always wanted to have children, there was no denying that.

I meet my wife-to-be through a mutual friend. But I knew that I shouldn’t have been with her, and still wanted to explore my feelings for guys. Just prior to getting married, my grandmother, who I grew very close to during my childhood years, asked me if I was gay and if I was doing the right thing. I told her there was no way I was gay, and that I wanted to get married.

Looking back, I wish I’d had the courage to speak up and tell her how I really felt. But denial was my best friend, and I felt had to go through with the marriage to prove to everyone that I was a ‘normal’ person who was capable of living a ‘normal’ life…

Married with children

I finally got married at the age of 24. When I think about that day now, I just feel sadness. I remember standing at the alter crying because I hated myself so much for not being strong and speaking up when I was younger. I looked around the church and saw all these people who have been in my life all these years. I couldn’t let them down and be selfish by doing something that I should’ve done years before.

A month after we married, I quit my job as I wasn’t happy living in the country. I wanted to find a distraction, as I could not get over the feelings that had came back to haunt me. So we decided to pack up and move to Melbourne. I was excited by the prospect of finding a new life in the city and making new friends.

In 2000 we had our first child, which was the most amazing experience anyone can have, to bring a child into the world. In 2002 we had our second, and life still appeared to be normal. I was doing well at work, moving up the ranks through my profession. We seemed to have everything we wanted – a nice house, nice car, and nice friends. Keeping up the lifestyle. It seemed so much easier to live a lie than to be honest with myself.

Things started to crash around me in early 2005. The urge to explore my sexuality came back stronger then ever. I hated myself so much. The harder I tried to distract myself from it, the stronger it got. It was like I was not going to be able to beat it.

We were expecting another child in October. I started to find bigger distractions, doing things on a bigger scale. Let me put it this way – I could have easily ended up in jail. I was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark world of depression. I never sought professional help, because I was too busy trying to fight it and show people that I was a strong and capable person who could provide for his family and have everything.

My darkest day

On June 6 2005 I made arrangements to take my own life.

I woke up at 4am and left the house to fly to Sydney. I had to end my horrible feelings of guilt, shame and stress that I couldn’t bear. It was weighing me down, like I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, chained to a cement block. I was fighting a battle I felt I could no longer win.

I was not going to surrender to the world and be judged. I wanted leave without anyone ever knowing the truth about me. I had lived my life as a lie for so long, and felt there was no point in changing it now.

I arrived at the airport, switched my phone off and booked a flight to Sydney. I didn’t care where I was going as long as I was not in Melbourne, as it held too many memories of my children, my friends and my family – and I did not want to smear my blood on the place my children grew up. I wanted them to grow up knowing that their dad loved them for who they are, and not for what I did or who I was.

I arrived in Sydney, lost, confused and unsure what I was going to do next, even though I had played it over in my head the night before – how I was going to make the final moments of my life.

I needed to write a final note for at least one person, explaining why I was leaving this destructive world, and killing the dark secret of my life. I decide to write it on the observation deck at Sydney Tower, as the views are amazing, and I wanted this view to be me last.

My mother was the person I went to when I was hurt or sick, and who loved me unconditionally. But I was so ashamed of what I had done to her dreams for me. I put pen to paper and started to explain to her the reasons for my exit from this life and start my journey on the other side, where I would find no pain, no shame, no guilt.

I poured my heart out to her, asking her for forgiveness and hoping that one day she would know that I always loved her, but I could not keep living a lie any longer. I was sick of pretending that everything was OK, when all I wanted to do was scream.

I knew she would look after my children as I was not strong enough to do it. And I hoped she would be brave and not to blame herself for my mistakes, as she gave me the gift of life.

I felt a sense of relief when writing the letter. It was like a huge amount of weight was lifted, but somewhere inside I was still scared about going through with it. I felt like a coward, for putting her through this. I just wished there was an easier answer.

As I was walking towards the lift at Sydney Tower I noticed three boys exiting. It made me think about my own children and what I was doing to them. They loved me unconditionally; all they ever cared about was playing with me, taking them to the park, just being there with them.

I could not go through with it and deny them of their father. I had to work out a way to deal with this.

Seeking help

I needed professional help, but I wasn’t ready to come out. I caught the next plane back to Melbourne, and my best friend was waiting at the airport for me, as I rang him to meet me there.

He told me everyone was worried about me as I had not turned up at work and was not contactable. No-one contacted my parents, so that was a good thing. I couldn’t even think straight, I was exhausted from everything that had built up over the past ten years or so. I was sick of running and hiding from my identity, but I knew I was not strong enough to face it.

I was admitted to hospital as a crisis patient. When I was assessed the next day and given the all-clear to go home, I was monitored from home over the next two months by the crisis team. I had quit my job and become even more depressed. I had started counseling, but again I kept it all in and lied about why I felt like I did. I didn’t share anything about my feelings of being gay. This went on over a period of six months – the constant lying and betrayal.

My youngest was born in October 2005, but I was not happy about the birth. I really did not care. I didn’t get attached to him… it was like I was in a different world and nothing ever mattered anymore. I was robotic.

Telling mum

But that all changed in June 2006. I met an amazing guy, who was gay and did not judge me for what I did or who I was. He wanted to get to know me, and was an amazing counselor.

I decided it was time to come out, stop the lies, and to be who I really am. I decided that the first person I would tell was my mother.

I had to tell her over the phone as it was more then an eight hour drive back home, and I wasn’t ready to tell her face to face. I guess I was a coward in a way, but I was scared that this could destroy the relationship we had. It seemed easier, as I could hang up the phone and never speak to her ever again.

My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour and I felt like my whole body was twisting and turning inside. I’d never felt so sick in my life. I didn’t have a script of what to say and how to say it – I just knew I had to tell her. The chains that had kept me down would at last be broken.

I dialed the number and she answered. Just to hear her voice made me break down and cry. Sobbing, I could not even say hello. She panicked and asked if I was OK. I could sense that she felt so helpless.

I somehow managed to find the courage to tell her that the reason I was calling was that I was gay and I was sick of living my life as a lie. I said I was tired and exhausted, and just wanted to be happy.

Her response was not what I expected. She said: “thank God for that, I thought it was worse than that and about bloody time.”

I felt something I didn’t expect – betrayed, angry and upset that she hadn’t stopped what I had just been through for the 17 years. But then I realised that it was not her choice to tell me – it was up to me when I was ready to come out. That’s when the relief of honesty overcame me. I had not felt like that since my childhood, the time when there was no fear, no guilt, no worries, no judgment.

I spoke briefly with my dad, who was shocked, but tried to be understanding. I guess he suspected it as well, but just didn’t know how to voice it.

Coming out

I went through a list of people I felt I had to tell; it was exhausting work, but rewarding that I did not have to run or hide anymore. I was able to feel good about myself.

At that point I had been married for nine years. To suddenly finish our relationship just like that would not be fair on her without explanation. Because I loved her for the person she was over the past 12 years I had known her, it was a difficult telling her that the marriage was over. As expected she was not happy about it, but she was very good in letting me move out and still be able to see the children.

I guess she was hoping it was a phase I was going through. Four years on, my relationship with her now after is still amicable, as we lead very different lives. We now only talk about the childrens’ needs, as she has moved on to a new relationship.

The other person I had to tell was my best friend. I’m now calling him my ex best friend, because we no longer talk and have not spoken since I came out.

I was staying at his place just prior to coming out, as I needed space to sort myself out. Having dinner with him and his wife on a Friday night, I said that I needed to tell him why I was staying away from my wife and family. I told him I was gay, and before I could get another word in, he asked me to leave and to never talk to him again. That was the last time we spoke.

Being a gay dad

I struggled with my new life as a gay dad – I found the coming out process quite daunting, but managed to get through it with the wonderful support of VICAIDS and other organisations within the gay community.

I was very lucky that my children were learning and growing with me. My kids are 4, 8 and 10 now. Last year I took them to the park for a picnic and felt it was time to have a talk with them.

I asked them what they thought the word ‘gay’ meant. My oldest said: “When a boy kisses another boy.” Then I asked if they had a problem with dad being gay. He replied “no, as long as you are happy, I am happy.”

It really does bring you down to earth, to think that children do live in a world so different to us adults. I have since had a number of talks to my children about being gay, and all the conversations have been positive for all of us. I have learnt to keep the communication lines open all the time and to listen to them. I am so grateful to be able to be around today to share my new lease of life with my children.

I am now in a happy same-sex relationship with an amazing person, who has opened his arms to me and my kids.

The outing of David Campbell

Coming out is a huge step in anyone’s life. I feel for the NSW minister David Campbell being outed by the media, as it would have been a struggle for him to be living the life he has lived for so long.

I strongly believe that his sexuality had nothing to do with the way he felt about how he was representing his people – he is no lesser a human because his is gay/ bisexual or whatever.

I am certain he loves his children no less or more then I do, and I’m sure he also loves his wife in a certain way that no one will ever understand.

For the media to ‘out’ him was morally wrong, as was the excuse that it was the public’s right to know. It is no-one’s business what people do in their own private lives. How are we to know what David had with his wife? And even if he was living a double life and she did not know, it was up to him to when the time was right to tell her and his family.

Now the damage is done and David now has to start all over again to find his true self and inner strength to be able to move on from this, as does his family.

There are so many people in the same situation and they just don’t know what to do. They see it easier to stay in the situation they are in because they fear hurting the ones they love.

Looking back on all of it, I have no regrets about the path I walked, and I have been blessed in many ways to be able to share my experience and hopefully help others out there who may be going through the same thing.

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Same Same thanks Wayne for sharing his honest and remarkable story. He can be reached via the GLOCKIDS organisation he recently set up to support gay and lesbian parents. See its official website here.