In Honor of National Coming Out Day

As a boy and teen, I was bullied a lot. It took place on the school bus, in school, and at home. It never seemed to stop. I felt like making my life miserable was the sole purpose of others’ existence. The bullies were mostly older than me. They knew I was different; they knew I didn’t like the things they liked. They capitalized on it; called me names, threw things at me, physically assaulted me, and berated me constantly. “Fags listen to that music.” “Fags wear that color.” “Only fags like school.” On and on it went. I was physically attacked more than once while simply walking down the hall between classes. It was usually by two or three guys. Inevitably, at lunch, I would end up sitting across the table from these same guys. They’d call me names there, throw food at me and laugh. I hated them all. And I was trapped because I couldn’t leave the lunch room. If I reported it to a teacher, it would only make things worse. I’d then be branded a “nark” and become more of a target. Back then, teachers were more likely to turn their heads the other way rather than acknowledge bullying. They didn’t know how; they didn’t have the tools that are available today. They left it up to the parents. Furthermore, no one knew how to deal with homosexuality, especially in a small town like Emlenton.

The worst part about those early years was that I didn’t even know what gay meant. Therefore, I certainly wasn’t out. I began to take on shame. I felt like something must have been wrong with me for people to treat me that way. I was flawed simply because I existed. As I increasingly internalized the shame and negative feelings, I felt worse about myself on the outside. I was often depressed.

My dad, too, got on the bandwagon. “You’re not my son; you’re nothing but a little faggot,” he said to me when he was drunk. 

When I was getting ready to graduate high school, he asked what I was going to do with my life. “I’m going to college,” I said. 

“You’ll never make it; you’re nothing but a little faggot.”  (This, of course, was the impetus behind all of the successes I’ve enjoyed in my life. And for that reason, I should thank my dad.) 
I hated every, single day of my youth while living in Emlenton. I hated my dad. I hated each and every day in school and on the bus. I felt small. I felt inferior and full of horrid shame. I wanted to find a place to hide and hope no one would ever find me. I lived in terror each day, never knowing what I would encounter. 

Work became my outlet. I started when I was 11. It was a way for me to focus my negative energy into something physical and productive. It kept my mind on my future, which I was always planning. I planned my escape, too. And on the night of my high school graduation, I packed my belongings into Gram and Pap’s car. We left the high school right after the ceremony. I went home with them and I never looked back.

I’ve been afforded many opportunities since. The opportunities for career and success aside, I was more importantly given the chance to learn about me - that I am ok; that I don’t have to be ashamed. Rather, I can be proud of who I am as a human being AND as a gay man. When I first began “long term intensive psychotherapy,” one of my first homework assignments was to write the following 100 times in the morning and again at night: “I am worthy and capable of being loved.” I did what I was told and over time, my subconscious began to believe it. I began to like myself.

I’ve also had opportunities to heal from that childhood pain and to find forgiveness for those who inflicted it. It has not been an easy road by any stretch, but nevertheless it has given me a great deal of peace of mind. Forgiveness, I’ve learned, is what I do for ME, not for anyone else.

I spent a lot of years contemplating suicide. I don’t know why I didn’t follow through. But I am so very grateful that I didn’t because I have a wonderful life and I’m not finished enjoying all that that it has to offer. It hurts me to hear about young people who take their own lives, especially at the hands of their parents or loved ones or friends – those who are supposed to care for them - but instead reject them.  It especially hurts me when this rejection occurs in the name of religion or self-righteousness. Doesn’t that fly in the face of exactly what religion is SUPPOSED to teach - namely love and acceptance?

For those who may be struggling to come out or who might feel unable to accept themselves or who might be riddled with shame, I say you have the courage deep inside you to carry on. Remove yourself from situations that cause you pain; know that YOU are a special, beautiful human being who is worthy of life and love. You DO NOT have to be around people who abuse you, not matter who they are. You may not be able to escape now, but make a plan like I did; work toward it. You WILL get there.