HIS STORY
Eric Feltes didn't set out
to become a life coach.
He set out to survive.
Growing up in conservative evangelical culture, Eric learned early that who he was — his desires, his identity, his capacity for love — was incompatible with belonging.

Eric Feltes
LIFE COACH · AUTHOR · SPEAKER
The message wasn't always spoken out loud. Sometimes it was a sermon. Sometimes it was a silence at the dinner table. But it was consistent, and it was cumulative, and by the time Eric came out in his mid-twenties, it had settled into his body as something that felt a lot like fact.
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Coming out didn't end the shame. It just gave it a new address.
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What followed wasn't a breakthrough moment or a clean before-and-after. It was years of slow, unglamorous work — untangling theology from identity, learning to trust a body he'd been taught to distrust, and trying to build a life that actually felt like his. There were relationships that didn't survive it. Versions of himself he had to grieve. Long stretches where progress was invisible.
IN HIS OWN WORDS
"Coming out is not the end of the journey. It's the beginning of true healing and belonging."
- Eric Feltes
M.A. Educational Leadership — Aurora University
Former Spanish & Theatre teacher — the heart of an educator shapes everything he does
Helped hundreds of gay men worldwide through coaching, programs, and content
Speaker at LGBTQ+ conferences, affirming churches, and wellness retreats
Author of The Gospel of You — forthcoming
That map became the foundation for everything Eric does today — his coaching practice, his group programs, and his forthcoming book, The Gospel of You. Not because his story is over, but because he knows firsthand what it costs to stay stuck, and what becomes possible when you finally don't have to be.
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He lives in Houston, Texas with his husband Michael, their dog Cadence, and twenty-five houseplants. His work is rooted in one belief: that queerness is not a burden to tolerate — it is a gift to celebrate.
"The terrain I'd been navigating alone — the religious harm, the internalized shame, the fear of desire — was the same terrain hundreds of thousands of gay men were trying to cross without a map. So I built one."

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