After my divorce, I came out as bisexual and then as pansexual. But then I realized labels can't define me.

• I married a man at 18 and hid my desire for women for years.
• After our divorce, I explored my sexuality and came out as bisexual — and then as pansexual.

I was always a tomboy. As a kid, I liked playing outside, getting dirty, and collecting rocks. I got teased a lot because of that, and as I got older people teased me even more, about my sexuality.

I honestly didn't spend much time thinking about my sexuality. I liked boys, just like society told me I was supposed to. But in my teenage years, I found myself starting to look at women. It didn't occur to me to think about what that might mean.

After my divorce at 27, I finally faced my sexuality head-on and realized I am exactly who I need to be.

For most of my adult life I wasn't really sure how to identify

I knew I liked to look at women, but in college I began to suspect I might be attracted to them as well. I can remember times I'd look at a beautiful woman very closely. I can remember rewinding music videos just to watch one of the women again and again. I could never really say why.

Still, I always found myself in relationships with men, so I couldn't explore my sexuality as I wanted to. All I knew was that I like guys, but that definitely didn't feel like the only answer.

Then I met my now-ex-husband; I was just 18. We were married the next year. Throughout college I was focused on him and my marriage. I missed out on a lot of the normal college experiences my friends had. He struggled with his confidence and required 100% of my attention — all the time.

I kept the confusion around my sexuality to myself, knowing my husband would not be happy. I stayed in that marriage for years, and the whole time I was unsure of myself, closeted, and unwilling to say anything about it out loud.

Once we got divorced I identified as bisexual and then as pansexual

After that fairly terrible relationship ended, I was 27, and I still didn't tell anyone about my desire for women. I made it my mission to spend some time with myself to better understand my feelings.

I'd never really spent any time in the dating pool; I went straight from high school into marriage. I threw myself into dating, joining an app, flirting, and going out with whoever tickled my fancy. Finally I was able to articulate an equal desire to have relationships with women, at least.

This was the first time I ever called myself bisexual. It was tentative, still unsure, but closer to my truth. My friends were mostly unperturbed. If it came up I'd be honest, but I usually didn't proclaim it to the world. My revelation was met mostly with mild surprise, and I was relieved, but something still felt a little wrong.

Around this time I was working for an art college. Between that and social media, I was surrounded by people with identities I hadn't previously been exposed to. Unsure of these newfound attractions not limited to either men or women, I began to identify as pansexual, which means you're attracted to others regardless of their gender identity. I figured this made the most sense.

When I then came out as pansexual, people had questions: "I thought you were bisexual?" To me, that seemed like a question that didn't deserve an answer.

Now I don't think I need to label myself

I'm in a relationship with a man now. We've been together for several years and are engaged to be married this year. Unlike in my previous marriage, we talk about my sexual identity — but from within a committed monogamous relationship.

Being in a relationship with a man has made my queer identity feel more abstract. But after years of answering questions from my friends each time I came out, I have some questions of my own: Why do I need to be labeled? Can't I just like and be attracted to who I want? I shouldn't be required to constantly explain my label and what it means to me.

For me, it's enough to know I'm in a safe and happy relationship, which I hope lasts forever. I'm happy without any label. I like who I like, I love who I love, and there's no reason to define that for anyone but myself.