This summer, during a weekend trip to the city of Portland,  I passed the wait for a city bus by visiting Powell’s Bookstore, whose shelves are comprised of new and used books. Shuffling through them, I stumbled upon a book called When I Knew.

Comprised of a collection of narratives from lesbian, gay, and bisexual people sharing their “moments of knowing,” When I Knew features stories running the gamut from funny to absurd to heartbreaking to victorious. Each of the narratives, I found, was perfectly human and real. The project spoke to us both; I bought the book, and we had to run for the bus. Now it sits on my coffee table, and more than one guest has rifled through it with curious energy.

There is power to our stories. I have said this and will say this again and again. And so begins my own small version of this project: The “When I Knew” Project. Friends and social media acquaintances have begun sharing their “moments of knowing,” and I will publish these – anonymously – here on this blog. Feel free to read and peruse them, perhaps to better understand and empathize or perhaps to feel not alone.

For we are not alone, and that is the saving power of sharing stories.

It has been more than two months since the Supreme Court declared marriage to be a right for everyone, which means it also has been more than two months since I posted my coming out blog post. I spoke myself into existence – it took only a moment of wild courage – and, after a burst of insanity, life settled into routine. The sun rose and fell, and life moved forward.

We post these announcements like they are a tremendous shock. To be fair, for some people in our lives, this comes as a tremendous shock. Maybe because we are some of the first to share these stories with them, or maybe because there are stubborn barriers to acceptance. But, all things considered, I don’t think this qualifies as the most shocking confession I could utter.

So, for fun, here are ten things more shocking about me than my sexual orientation.

Continue reading “ten things more shocking about me than my sexual orientation.” →

When I was younger, and I thought about the age of “25,” I enjoyed the idea that – when I was 25 – I would have life quite figured out. Looking back at my year as a 25-year-old, I have this to say to my younger self:

“That’s adorable.”

I don’t know where this notion came from. I’ve loved “Friends” for years, and it’s a show that revolves around the uncertainty and challenge of the mid-twenties to mid-thirties transition. And there’s a lot of talk about the quarter-life crisis (which sets a lofty goal of a 100-year life, but it’s fine). But you get it. I had my hopes.

Continue reading “on 25.” →

Working in the higher education environment comes along with a few unique realities. Freshman students will stay around the same age, for example, while each Fall finds me another year older. Students will always joke about chancing a bump from a campus bus for free tuition. Roommates will always be ready to cite “irreconcilable differences” (while rarely being ready to, you know, talk to each other about said differences). For me, working in residence life, one such reality is that July and August are annually destined to become a high-octane blur: Julaug.

I tweeted something along these lines, but the last days of June feel a bit like my last opportunity to catch my breath, bid a temporary farewell to my people. “See you in September,” I say, then laugh. Then pause. Then cry inconsolably.

Continue reading “julaug.” →

This is, I imagine, something like the feeling in a skydiver’s spirit moments just before the jump. My fingers are shaky, my head and heart overflowing with words, my emotion a strange cocktail of optimism and fear and courage and quiet. I open the door, look out. Here it is:

Hello. I’m Michael King. I’m 25, almost 26. And I’m gay.

This blog post marks my first time really saying so – in clear terms and not context clues. Over the past few years, as I’ve gathered the courage to raise my voice and share my story, I have become convinced of the significance of taking this step. Of saying these words. We are not meant to hide ourselves; we should take heart and speak ourselves into existence. Those last four words have become commonplace in my conversations with LGBT friends and family. The courage to share our stories is essential, as stories light the way for those who may feel surrounded by fog. So here is me putting my words into action. My story is important; I’m telling it.

Continue reading “into existence.” →

I could tell you a lot about my body
And what it can’t do
And what it won’t be
And why it isn’t enough
But my body and soul are tired
So let me follow with what
My body does

Continue reading “my body does.” →

Just over a month ago, following a much-needed pit stop at home, I packed my things into my car, recruited my little brother to bring the rest in his truck, and made the familiar journey from Terre Haute to Muncie.

Continue reading “muncie beginnings.” →

Friends, I am presently steeped in the training process. The past two weeks have been filled with happy reunions, excellent friends old and new, and quite a bit of information to juggle. And, one day, I might tell you all a bit more about that. But not right now. I’ve got stuff to do. In the meantime, I thought I’d share a few song lyrics with you. These song lyrics, as you might guess, have all been there to embolden my steps and push me forward some time over the past few years. They are written on my heart, and as such, I feel compelled to share them and their brilliance and hope that they may so encourage you. Until later, peace and blessings and love and, if there’s time, needless calories. (There’s time.)

Continue reading “words of inspiration.” →

Confession time: Sometimes I break the rules I’ve set for myself. While I will emphatically profess it is always best to wash the dishes before going to bed, I sometimes wave the task away and collapse into my comforter instead. I’ve napped in contact lenses, used “literally” in a sentence that didn’t require it, and had ice cream twice in one day. This is the joy of writing one’s personal Constitution: There’s always room for an amendment or two.

This blog entry serves as the culminating product of two such rule breaches: (1) don’t be in your office past 8 PM ever, and (2) don’t wait to blog about something until it’s no longer chronologically relevant. Looking at it here in my drafts folder, I couldn’t bring myself to (1) leave the office or (2) delete the draft, and so here we are: a reflection on my time in between grad school and the move to Ball State.

Continue reading “the time-in-between.” →