Mixed Metaphors

Secret Life: Clean Out the Closet

“All human beings have three lives, a public life, a private life, and a secret life.”  Hamill added, “A private life is by invitation only. A secret life is nobody’s business.”  — Pete Hamill

“You can’t be what you can’t see.” — Martha Popp

Today, October 26, 2025 is Intersex Awareness Day.

Background on the Series

For readers who missed the first installment of this series — I opened the last closet door to the public on October 26, 2023, Intersex Awareness Day, when I revealed — I’m intersex. I was born with Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (AIS). Today, again, I invite you to learn about my private and secret life.

A simple definition: Intersex is an umbrella term that describes bodies that fall outside the strict male/female binary. There are two types of Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome, complete and partial. My condition is the former (CAIS) and can be described as follows: Infants with complete androgen insensitivity syndrome appear to be female at birth, but do not have a uterus, fallopian tubes, or ovaries. Their testicles (gonads) are hidden inside the pelvis or abdomen. Breasts develop during puberty, but there is little or no pubic and armpit hair.

This is the final installment of the three-part series, the final act, as I open the last closet door.

Since this door has been closed to everyone in my public life, I want to take time to look inside, remove the cobwebs, and take an inventory. I’ve shared some of the contents of this closet with people in my private life, including intimate friends, bio and chosen family, plus trusted individuals on similar journeys. Only those people with whom I shared a committed, sexual, and/or romantic partnership, learned the most personal and details of my identity, journey, and secret life.

This is a shout out to the people with whom I shared my secret life, who loved me without judgement. Your acceptance has made a difference in my life and empowered me to open this last closet door, look inside, and let go of what I no longer need or want. I’m grateful.

From The Last Closet Door: Act I – Open the Closet Door (Public Life)

The two quotes above express opposing viewpoints and values. Hamill’s quote speaks to the importance of delineating and protecting our three lives: public, private, and secret. Popp’s quote affirms the importance of being visible and open in the world. Both have served me.

As a survivor of childhood sexual molestation, a lesbian, and a recovering alcoholic, I’ve protected my private and secret lives until I was emotionally, mentally, and spiritually ready to open ‘a closet door,’ to reveal an experience of what happened to me, an identity, or recognition of who I am. This of course does not happen overnight. It required years of therapy, naming the trauma, overcoming denial, shame, and stigma; the grief of not being able to bear children, and share secrets when I was ready. Lastly, self-forgiveness, acceptance, and healing followed. Grateful.

As a person of a certain age, it’s critically important for me to live as authentically and congruently as I’m able. My life is no longer a dress rehearsal. It’s the closing act, and will be the epilogue of my story. I want my legacy to be a person who was perfectly flawed (the title of my memoir in progress), yet lived openly, with self-acceptance, and self-love.

From The Last Closet Door: Act II – Look Inside (Private Life)

The Dilemma

I’ve been struggling with writing this essay about this very private medical condition, and the emotional journey of my lived experience, first as an innocent child, assigned female at birth, second as an adolescent on the eve of puberty developing secondary sexual gender characteristics, and later, as a sexually active adult navigating both my gender identity and sexual orientation.

It’s also a story about a family genetic history. I had to decide whether I wanted to share personal medical information about other family members. Since the AIS intersex condition is inherited —I decided to talk only about the generation that preceded me — my parents and two maternal aunts, who I loved and respected. I hope I don’t cause any harm to the legacy of people I love. They are people who I loved unconditionally and loved me the same way. Grateful.

The Last Closet Door: Act III – Clean Out the Closet (Secret Life)

As a person of a certain age, 75 to be precise, I’m at the age when I’ve accumulated stuff. Some of it is material, most of what remains is a lifetime of experiences and memories. There’s unfinished business and amends yet to be made if given an opportunity. Yes, I’m cleaning house, my 645 square foot apartment, storage unit in the parking garage, and the totes in the basement of friends.

I’m the kind of person who is organized on the surface. There’s often a degree of chaos not visible. Whether you visit me in my home or work office, everything to a certain degree has its place. My work office is Zen-like similar to my home. When I enter my office, I take a deep healing breath. I’m safe and centered.

For the past nine years, my home transitioned from Zen-like to housing a degree of visual clutter. As a visual person, it’s beginning to erode my serenity. More problematic, when I look in a cabinet, drawer, or closet, there’s no more room. Yes, this is a metaphor for my life.

It’s time to clean out the cabinets, the drawers, the storage unit, inspect and sort, what to keep and what to let go, including from the totes in the basement of friends. I need to clean out the closet, both the physical one and more important, the emotional and spiritual home to my secrets.  

It’s a metaphor for the virtual closet we each carry in us. The reward of cleaning out the closet is bravely facing the things buried deep inside, collecting dust, preventing me from experiencing serenity and joy.  The healing work I’ve done in therapy and in my 40 years of recovery will aid in addressing and letting go of the secrets, trauma, shame, and stigma from the past and make room for self-forgiveness, new experiences, memories, and joy this last precious chapter of my life.

Holding On & Letting Go

From a blog essay, Holding On & Letting Go:

“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” — Rumi

Holding on and letting go is one of the subjects I keep coming back to, a thread in many of my essays and remembrances. It’s an essential element in the cycle of life, a theme in many of my memories, a lesson to be learned and practiced as needed, and today again, present in my journey.

This is not unique to me. It’s a universal truth; it’s what makes us human, mortal, and sentient beings. Holding on and letting go is one of the first things we learn as an infant, one of the first things we teach as a parent, one of the most difficult emotions we experience at the beginning and at the end of our lives, and the lives of loved ones, as we examine who and what we need to let go of and who and what we need to hold onto.

As a person lucky enough to live this seventh decade, I’m grateful. I’ve held on and let go of many things, some which served me, some that were stumbling blocks I had to overcome, and others were myths about myself which needed to be dispelled so I could live authentically. It’s an unfinished process of becoming.

I’ve also let go of people, family members and friends I’ve loved, friends I’ve lost track of or left behind, lovers and partners who’ve come and gone, children who grew up and ventured out on their own, and furry companions who shared our homes and our laps.

Letting Go of Secrets

I’ve kept many secrets in my life, including stories of generational alcoholism, substance use, childhood sexual molestation, and family struggles with depression and anxiety. The generation that preceded me was marked my alcoholism, depression and anxiety, sexual addiction and molestation, food disorders, and suicide. These were secrets I kept until the shame and stigma of the secret-keeping harmed me and loved ones, including the two earlier closet doors I opened: First, coming out as a lesbian, second, admitting I’m an alcoholic (now in recovery), and now, I open the last closet door, that I was born intersex.

This secret I kept the longest — out of the shame and the stigma I perceived it would create — was something totally outside of my control. It was the body I was born in. Like the other secrets I carried, it was generational, biologically pre-determined, and outside of my control. It was my legacy. How I responded to each secret was my work to do.

Gratefully, for each door I opened, I chose first, to gently care for myself, and when I was ready, let go and share my secret. In the end, each door I opened, each secret revealed, was a healing experience, releasing shame and stigma, not instantly, but in time. I credit my 40 years of recovery from alcohol, substances, and harming behaviors, which I did in community with others in recovery and saved my life, years of therapy, and the support and love of family, friends, and romantic partners. Self-forgiveness, acceptance, and healing followed. Grateful.

People may ask, “Why am I so open in public about my private and secret life?”  As a person in recovery, a writer and storyteller, I’ve learned the benefits and healing power of sharing stories about our lived experiences. The work I do in this last chapter of my life is as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate for people in recovery and a Wisconsin Certified Peer Specialist. It’s rewarding. It’s a win-win. Whenever I support someone, the act of listening first, followed by telling my story without shame or stigma, is healing for me too.

Postscript

For the past 10 weeks, I’ve been spending time at the bedside of my former husband, Frank, under the care of hospice. It’s been a gift. We’ve been able to reminisce about our shared past and passions, including music and films, love of family, social activism, food, and so much more. Frank was my first love. I left Frank when I realized and accepted my sexual orientation. I was a lesbian.

We’ve also been able to make unaddressed amends. Frank shared his experience of loving and accepting me as an intersex woman. I’m lucky. He was my first love and though I had sexual experiences with others before him, he was the first person I had intercourse with and he was always a gentle and attentive lover.

This time with him has been both a gift and a thank you. I’ve had other partners who accepted and loved me for which I’m eternally grateful. There was a moment in each of those relationships, where I shared my secret. It was liberating.

There were also sexual relationships from the past, when I kept my intersex identity secret, however, those relationships were never as intimate. Because I physically appeared as a cisgender woman, there were occasions too as a child and teen, that I was targeted and molested for being female.

The lesson, in all of this, is that the secret is what kept me vulnerable, closed-off, made me ‘the other,’ or experience shame and stigma. I opened this last door to my secret life and I’m cleaning out the closet. Now there’s room for life, joy, self-forgiveness, and acceptance.

Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!

The Last Closet Door: Act I (Public Life)

The Last Closet Door: Act II (Private Life)

Mining for Rubies: 40 Years of Recovery

Holding On & Letting Go

Prayer for My Voice

Additional Reading on the Topic

Intersex Awareness Day

Intersex Awareness Day FAQ’s

Intersex Awareness Day highlights a fight for rights that’s far from over