Coming Out, Starting Over: Help Me Rebuild in the U.S.

Hi, my name is Chad Miller, and I am 53 years old.

For most of my life, I wasn’t sure if I was gay, but I knew I had mental and emotional feelings that made me feel different. However, I always assumed they would pass. Growing up in a deeply religious environment, the idea that God could create something that He forbade didn’t make sense to me. So, I buried those feelings and tried to live the life I thought I was supposed to live. Being gay couldn’t possibly be my truth—or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

At the age of 19, I started working as a dispatcher for the local police department in Alabama. I later became a corrections officer, and by the age of 21, I was working full-time as a police officer. I got married that same year, following the path laid out before me. My wife was beautiful, a wonderful mother and partner, but I never felt romantically or sexually attracted to her. I didn’t understand why. I thought maybe I was just different, or maybe it was something wrong with me.

Despite her beauty and our life together, I found it impossible to plan the romantic gestures that most husbands would—gifts, surprise dates, flowers, those intimate moments where a husband shows his love and adoration. I felt guilty, deeply guilty, that I wasn’t treating her the way a woman should be treated, loved, and cherished. I was living a lie, and every day it weighed more heavily on me.

A Life Out of Place

Throughout my marriage, I constantly felt out of place. During family gatherings Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays I felt like a stranger in my own life. My wife came from a large, close-knit family, and while everyone else bonded, I often found myself isolated, unsure of how to connect. The other husbands talked about sports, politics, and things that never really interested me. Meanwhile, I buried myself in my police work and my passion for technology. I spent most of my free time designing websites and databases, finding peace in those small areas where I could control the chaos. But the truth is, I was emotionally disconnected from everything around me.

The Turning Point in Aruba

Everything shifted for me after I developed a close friendship with a man from Venezuela through an online platform where I practiced Spanish. Over time, our friendship deepened in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It was something I didn’t fully understand at the time, but looking back, it became clear that this relationship was different from any I had before.

My wife and I planned a trip to Aruba, and I suggested we invite my friend to meet us there in person. She happily agreed, and during that trip, the connection between him and me became undeniable. For the first time, I truly understood what I had been suppressing all my life. This was the turning point—when I could no longer pretend that I wasn’t gay.

Coming Out and the Fear of Rejection

Coming out to my family was terrifying. I didn’t know how they would react. My wife, my children, my parents—it was overwhelming to imagine their responses. While my mother has been supportive, I’ve never told my father. To this day, as far as I know, he doesn’t know. My children’s reactions, however, surprised me as they were more accepting than I had expected, and that gave me a sense of relief. But despite their acceptance, I couldn’t shake the shame I felt. I couldn’t reconcile my identity with the life I had built for decades. I felt like I had failed everyone.

Self-Imposed Exile in Bogotá

After coming out, I realized I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t face my colleagues, my friends, or even parts of my family, so I left. I moved to Bogotá, Colombia, eight years ago, partly because I had always loved the country, but mostly because I needed to escape. This wasn’t the beginning of a new dream—it was me running away. I’m not living an open, free life here. In fact, most people in Colombia don’t even know I’m gay. I didn’t come to Bogotá to live proudly; I came here to hide, to avoid facing the people who knew me before.

Life in Bogotá has been one of isolation. I have no real friends, and while I love teaching English, my heart is heavy from the distance between me and my family. I’m missing out on my children’s lives and the chance to watch my three grandchildren ages up to 7 years old. The weight of what I’ve missed out on feels unbearable at times. I have missed birthdays, holidays, and those everyday moments that I’ll never get back.

Looking Forward

Living in Colombia hasn’t been bad, but it hasn’t been fulfilling either. I’ve spent years running away, but now I’m ready to return. I want to go back to the U.S., reconnect with my family, and rebuild the relationships that matter most to me. It’s been eight years of self-imposed exile, and I no longer want to live in hiding.

My dream is to work as a FileMaker developer, creating databases that serve real-world needs, but my deeper desire is to live authentically. Coming out doesn’t have to mean losing everything, but for me, it did. I left my home, my community, and a part of myself when I moved to Colombia. But now, I’m ready to reclaim my life and start living the way I was always meant to.

Why I Need Your Help

After years of self-imposed exile, I’m ready to return home. I want to reconnect with my family and rebuild the relationships I’ve lost. I’m asking for your support to help me return to the U.S. and start over as a FileMaker developer. I’ve recently earned my expert-level FileMaker certification, but I need more training in programming languages like Python and JavaScript to truly build a sustainable career.

Your donation will help me:

I’ve spent so many years running away from who I am and what I want, but now I’m ready to return, to be with my family, and to live authentically. Any contribution, no matter how small, will help me take the steps I need to come home and build a life that’s truly my own. I’m deeply grateful for your support and thank you for taking the time to read my story.