June Newsletter
On Coming Out as Impasse
I’m not big on personal disclosure for its own sake. I’m truthful and happy to share about my life, but only when it genuinely supports the work, whether in writing or in the therapy room. (Read more about therapist disclosure here.) This month, though, I found myself reflecting on something that feels worth sharing, not just because it’s mine, but because I think it might resonate beyond me.
In a world that often feels so polarized, I sometimes joke that being gay is the least interesting thing about me. But that’s not quite true. It’s really just shorthand for saying: It’s only one part of who I am. Still, in this cultural moment, downplaying identity can feel like a kind of erasure. Visibility matters. And like many of us, I didn’t arrive at this identity without complexity or struggle.
In honor of Pride Month and the ongoing work of becoming, I wanted to share a story about impasse, that quiet, often uncomfortable threshold where something in us begins to shift. Coming out was one version of that for me, but really, it's just an example of a much more universal experience: the moments when we’re called to reexamine who we are, let go of what no longer fits, and move toward something unknown but more true.
Because not everyone comes out, but everyone moves through impasse.
In Gestalt therapy, impasse is the moment when our habitual ways of being, our defenses, strategies, roles, and internalized narratives no longer fit. Sometimes this arrives as a crisis: we hit a wall, feel stuck, or disoriented. But other times, it shows up more subtly, as a quiet sense that something has shifted. A realization that what once worked no longer does, or no longer needs to.
Impasse isn't just about what falls away. It’s about the reorganization of the self and how we make meaning in the world. It marks a turning point in our self-world construction, a time when the old map no longer applies, and we begin to orient toward something new. It can feel vulnerable, liberating, disorienting, or all of those at once. But it’s also where transformation becomes possible. Not through force, but by staying present long enough for new ways of being to emerge.
The stages of impasse are often described as:
Phobic or false solution stage – where we rely on old defenses
Implosive stage – where those defenses begin to collapse
Impasse proper – the moment of stillness, helplessness, or confrontation with truth
Explosive stage – where new awareness or expression emerges
Integration – the reorganization of self that follows
When I came out, it didn’t start with a declaration. It started as a possibility, a question, followed quickly by resistance. My unconscious knew before I did, and as I tried to ignore any possible changes to my self-world construction, I dreamt of rats chewing through the walls of my apartment uninvited and impossible to ignore.
As my anxiety increased, the thoughts I tried to suppress were figuratively clawing their way into consciousness.
Eventually, I had the idea: Maybe I’m not straight (or some version of that). First came confusion, then I threw up. In Gestalt terms, we would call this “dislodging an introject.” A dramatic climax, but remember, I had always known myself one way, and now I was meeting the unknown.
I was no longer certain of who I was. I wondered, Will people still love me? Will I belong? Will I be safe? I moved between euphoria and dread, joy and disorientation. Coming out was a process of reintroducing myself to others and to myself. Some moments were triumphant. Others were heartbreaking. But that’s what it means to be met in our vulnerability: the risk of being seen, and the reward of being received.
When we meet the world authentically and with vulnerability, we give the world the opportunity to meet us back.
I’ve lived through many other impasses:
When I moved to NYC for graduate school.
When I left my salaried job to start a private practice.
When I expanded that practice into a group.
Now, from the safety of having perspective, they all sound like positives, but in the moment, each had their share of drama themselves. There are many more in the past, and hopefully, there will be many more in the future.
Each of those transitions brought with them fear, collapse, uncertainty, and eventually, a way forward. Not everyone “comes out” in the traditional sense. But we all go through moments where we must let go of who we were to become who we are becoming.
These are the moments where we shift, unravel, and reorient. Over and over again.
Can you think about the impasses in your own life? The moments when you had to show up differently, not just to others, but to yourself? In what ways have you had to “come out” to friends or family, not necessarily in terms of sexuality, but in the broader sense of revealing a new truth about who you are?
For many people, these turning points take the form of major life shifts: deciding to become sober, leaving a religion or embracing a new one, changing careers, ending a marriage, setting boundaries in a family system, or stepping into a new role that challenges old self-concepts. These are moments that require not just action, but vulnerability. We risk being misunderstood. We risk disappointing others. But we also open the door to living more fully aligned with who we are becoming.
Impasses are not detours, they are thresholds. They ask us to pause, listen closely, and emerge changed.
Reflection Prompts:
Is there a place in your life where your old ways of coping no longer work?
What part of you is asking to be seen, but feels risky to reveal?
Can you remember a past impasse you moved through? What helped you emerge?
What would it look like to meet yourself with curiosity instead of certainty right now?