Let's face it, coming out isn't a one-and-done. For most of us, it's a journey that starts with a first glimmer of interest or attraction, or a recognition of feeling different. Then there's  the first time you name it to yourself... the first time you act on it... the first time you tell another person... the choice to tell, or not to tell, many other people.

And sometimes there are years or decades between one of these moments, and the next.  There are so many kinds of support you might need, because so many things can get in the way. 

That's why our intensive class, Coming Out & Coming Home,  exists. Because we want you to make it home to yourself,  to freedom, and to fulfillment.

There are a lot of obstacles to getting to your best lesbian or queer life. And it's almost impossible to get there without community. 

Although it's been many years since I came out,

I remember it as if were yesterday. 

The first time I asked myself, "Would I want to have sex with a woman?" and myself answered, "Yes." (And then another part of me thought, "Oh, shit... what am I gonna do now?" I was living with a boyfriend who wanted to marry me at the time.)

How scary it was the first time I told anyone I was bisexual (yes, for me it was a place to start, not land for the long term, though for other people it's an authentic and lasting identity.)

How I felt the first time I went to an LGBTQ meeting—in those days, the Q stood for "Questioning," not "Queer," and I made sure everyone knew that's what I was. Just questioning. 

And, how I felt the first time I kissed a woman I was attracted to, and got an answer to the question. 

My parents' reaction was far better than that of many parents. I was lucky. But still, for years my father would start each of our conversations with "So, Ruth, do you have a boyfriend?" and I would answer, "No, Dad, I'm a lesbian." And he would say, "Maybe you should try dating men for a change," and I'd say, "Maybe you should try dating men for a change, Dad."

Sigh. That conversation got old fast. 

I'm incredibly grateful to my young self who tried on the options available to her as a heterosexual woman, and then looked across the Grand Canyon to a different life... and somehow made her way across. 

But I didn't do it alone. 

I was living in a 12-woman feminist household at the time, spending hours in late night kitchen counter conversations with my housemates, sharing deeply about ourselves, our bodies, sex, what we feared and desired.

I hadn't even known it was possible to share that openly. I had never told anyone those things, or heard them from anyone. It gave me clarity and courage.

Two of my housemates were already out. A bunch more of us came out that year. It was easy, because we had each other.

But I'm very aware that if I'd lived in another time and place, I might not have been able to do it at all—or might have gotten delayed by 20 or 30 or 40 years before I could traverse the vast divide.

That's why I'm so passionate about helping women and non-binary people at any stage of life, who realize, "Hey, there's something more for me," and need some helping hands to get where you want to go—to get to a life in which you can be free, and whole, and truly you. 

So, if you're in your 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s or even 80s and sense this is your journey, please know: it is never, ever too late. 

Many women are coming out now after decades of 

heterosexual life, and you know what? If anything,

it's even sweeter to finally come home to your true

self after a lifetime away. 

What if you came out years ago, but still have doubts, questions or shame? Or, just feel you haven't fully found your place in the lesbian community? Coming Out & Coming Home  is for you, too. Honestly, coming out can be a lifelong process

as we come to understand ourselves more and more fully. 

You don't have to identify as a lesbian. You can be bisexual, pansexual, queer, or just thinking maybe you're not straight. You don't have to have ever kissed a woman, or even know for sure if you want to. All you need is a desire to come sit on our virtual kitchen counters, like I did all those years ago, and share your truths.

Welcome home. Here, you belong.