03-25-2015, 02:05 AM
My name is Bryan, my husband is Barry. We have been together since January 09, 2011 but we made it official on February 14, 2011 and finally got married on November 21, 2014. My mother accepts our marriage, and at times I feel she accepts that part of me of being gay. A lot of times i feel she doesn't accept others for being gay, but my coming out experience was rocky. Best decision I made, though.
I came out of the closet when I was 13 years old. A young age to come out, but the disorders I have I just couldn't handle walking through the house trying to disguise myself. I wasn't myself around my parents. My dad would ask if I was seeing any lucky girls, and I'd smile and nod. I'm naturally feminine- my mom says she had her suspicion that I was the way I am. My dad on the other hand didn't have any sense of gaydar. My parents were raised in a different time period, not to mention in a very conservative area. They grew up calling black people "coloreds" and gay people "fruits and queers". My dad called me a fag and that was before I did come out to him.
I really feel that was one of the reasons I did come out. I was tired of dad having an image of me that was not who I was. I had interests of painting, writing, and dancing. He told me dancing was for fags, and that he hoped I would try out for basketball and get interested in sports and woodshop. You know, stereotypical manly men activities. When I came to my parents that I had auditioned for the high school color guard my mom cried and made it all about them- "You will not embarrass us! You are not spinning a damn flag! People will call you queer. We'll have to move because people will come after you." Basically they were only concerned about their reputation. Again, I hadn't came out to them at that point.
And I didn't want to come out as completely gay. How did I know if I was truly gay. The only person who knew my secret was my Goth friend, Crystal. She admitted to me she was bi-sexual. I brought it up to her that I didn't know if I was gay or curious or just odd, and misunderstood. So she suggested to help me. She wasn't a slut... she did it on behalf of my request. I won't go into detail but I realized that afternoon after school that yes, I was gay. And I was ashamed because of the crap my parents drilled into my head. Before I became an Atheist I was active in church and did the praying, the church scene, the confessions... I was angry at this so called god for making me gay and giving me same-sex wants and fantasies.
Walking through the halls in school were hell, and locker rooms in gym class was terrifying. My thoughts were, "Do they know? What if they think I'm looking at their penis? Don't look at their penis! Don't look at them at all! Don't make eye contact! Walk like a man! Deepen your voice!..." All these thoughts ran through my head 24/7. And at band practice I would force myself to show no emotion- even though being in guard you had to be animated, theatrical, and act "alive". I plummetted into a deep depression. The thoughts of suicide popped up and my parents were concerned- so they put me in therapy which honestly just made it worst.
Growing up in the church I was told, "Man shall not lie with man as with a woman. For it's an abomination. God hates the gays. People hate gays because god hates the gays." Now, remind you, that was before I dived into the interpretations and learned those scriptures had nothing to do with homosexuality. I was a walking zombie. I couldn't open up to anybody in fear of being shunned, mocked, bullied, and physically harmed. I had good reason to be those things- in my school the black kids were divided from the white kids. A bunch of bigots is what they were. I was picked on for hanging out with the black kids. I didn't really have a support group; a sense of belonging. I didn't fit in anywhere.
I actually wrote a suicide letter. I was going to hang myself. BUT while I was writing it I realized that I created the hell I was living in. It was I who turned myself against who I am. My therapist did tell me one thing that stuck with me, "Why care? If they don't care about you why care so much about what they think?" And it's true- those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter.
That next day I was finished. I was finished of hiding. I was tired of taking crap off my parents, the church, and these low lives who weren't nothing. I sat down with my mom and dad and I said it for the first time... and I actually heard myself for the first time and instead of feeling ashamed I felt proud. "I'm gay". It might not sound powerful to some people but those two words is the scariest thing someone in the closet can say out loud. "I'm gay!" Well... my mom cried and started rambling with, "What did we do wrong? How did this happen?" And my dad looked in my eyes, scowled, and left the room. I didn't care. I was their son. Either accept me or not.
My dad didn't speak to me for 6 weeks. My mom bleached everything. Why? Because she was ignorant and thought that because I'm gay than I automatically had AIDS. She never once tried to education herself on AIDS and STDs. She just went by what small minded people said about gay people. I wasn't even having sex- but yet, in her deluded mind- I had AIDS. She had me tested. She had me psychologically evaluated. I told the school and I had a group that accepted me and protected me. I did get beat up, bullied, mocked, and threatened a couple of times. It got so bad I was placed in a private school for 2 years.
After everything I didn't have any regrets and I will never have the regrets of coming out at such a young age. It was the right time for me. I knew it was the right time for me. It just happened. It was either live a lie and be unhappy and constantly looking over my shoulder hoping nobody noticed, or coming clean and admitting it and not giving a crap what Sally or Bobby thought.
As I got older my parents actually accepted their ignorance and did research on homosexuality and LGBT community- and life for homosexuals. Certain topics they weren't comfortable with discussing but they could actually talk to me like parents should. And my mom and dad both told me they accepted me for who I am. Don't get me wrong though... I still have tendencies to feel that my mom doesn't fully accept me, my husband, and our marriage. But that's her issue... not mine.
Coming out is a very scary ordeal. You're not the only one who is dealing with the anxiousness, the fear of public shunning, and worry of losing friends and family. It happens. You have to stop caring about what others think. You have to be happy for yourself. You have to do what makes you comfortable with life. I assure you, when the time is right you'll know. There is never a right or wrong time to come out. But trust me, when you do come out... it'll be the best decision you ever made and you will literally- physically, mentally and emotionally feel free.
I came out of the closet when I was 13 years old. A young age to come out, but the disorders I have I just couldn't handle walking through the house trying to disguise myself. I wasn't myself around my parents. My dad would ask if I was seeing any lucky girls, and I'd smile and nod. I'm naturally feminine- my mom says she had her suspicion that I was the way I am. My dad on the other hand didn't have any sense of gaydar. My parents were raised in a different time period, not to mention in a very conservative area. They grew up calling black people "coloreds" and gay people "fruits and queers". My dad called me a fag and that was before I did come out to him.
I really feel that was one of the reasons I did come out. I was tired of dad having an image of me that was not who I was. I had interests of painting, writing, and dancing. He told me dancing was for fags, and that he hoped I would try out for basketball and get interested in sports and woodshop. You know, stereotypical manly men activities. When I came to my parents that I had auditioned for the high school color guard my mom cried and made it all about them- "You will not embarrass us! You are not spinning a damn flag! People will call you queer. We'll have to move because people will come after you." Basically they were only concerned about their reputation. Again, I hadn't came out to them at that point.
And I didn't want to come out as completely gay. How did I know if I was truly gay. The only person who knew my secret was my Goth friend, Crystal. She admitted to me she was bi-sexual. I brought it up to her that I didn't know if I was gay or curious or just odd, and misunderstood. So she suggested to help me. She wasn't a slut... she did it on behalf of my request. I won't go into detail but I realized that afternoon after school that yes, I was gay. And I was ashamed because of the crap my parents drilled into my head. Before I became an Atheist I was active in church and did the praying, the church scene, the confessions... I was angry at this so called god for making me gay and giving me same-sex wants and fantasies.
Walking through the halls in school were hell, and locker rooms in gym class was terrifying. My thoughts were, "Do they know? What if they think I'm looking at their penis? Don't look at their penis! Don't look at them at all! Don't make eye contact! Walk like a man! Deepen your voice!..." All these thoughts ran through my head 24/7. And at band practice I would force myself to show no emotion- even though being in guard you had to be animated, theatrical, and act "alive". I plummetted into a deep depression. The thoughts of suicide popped up and my parents were concerned- so they put me in therapy which honestly just made it worst.
Growing up in the church I was told, "Man shall not lie with man as with a woman. For it's an abomination. God hates the gays. People hate gays because god hates the gays." Now, remind you, that was before I dived into the interpretations and learned those scriptures had nothing to do with homosexuality. I was a walking zombie. I couldn't open up to anybody in fear of being shunned, mocked, bullied, and physically harmed. I had good reason to be those things- in my school the black kids were divided from the white kids. A bunch of bigots is what they were. I was picked on for hanging out with the black kids. I didn't really have a support group; a sense of belonging. I didn't fit in anywhere.
I actually wrote a suicide letter. I was going to hang myself. BUT while I was writing it I realized that I created the hell I was living in. It was I who turned myself against who I am. My therapist did tell me one thing that stuck with me, "Why care? If they don't care about you why care so much about what they think?" And it's true- those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter.
That next day I was finished. I was finished of hiding. I was tired of taking crap off my parents, the church, and these low lives who weren't nothing. I sat down with my mom and dad and I said it for the first time... and I actually heard myself for the first time and instead of feeling ashamed I felt proud. "I'm gay". It might not sound powerful to some people but those two words is the scariest thing someone in the closet can say out loud. "I'm gay!" Well... my mom cried and started rambling with, "What did we do wrong? How did this happen?" And my dad looked in my eyes, scowled, and left the room. I didn't care. I was their son. Either accept me or not.
My dad didn't speak to me for 6 weeks. My mom bleached everything. Why? Because she was ignorant and thought that because I'm gay than I automatically had AIDS. She never once tried to education herself on AIDS and STDs. She just went by what small minded people said about gay people. I wasn't even having sex- but yet, in her deluded mind- I had AIDS. She had me tested. She had me psychologically evaluated. I told the school and I had a group that accepted me and protected me. I did get beat up, bullied, mocked, and threatened a couple of times. It got so bad I was placed in a private school for 2 years.
After everything I didn't have any regrets and I will never have the regrets of coming out at such a young age. It was the right time for me. I knew it was the right time for me. It just happened. It was either live a lie and be unhappy and constantly looking over my shoulder hoping nobody noticed, or coming clean and admitting it and not giving a crap what Sally or Bobby thought.
As I got older my parents actually accepted their ignorance and did research on homosexuality and LGBT community- and life for homosexuals. Certain topics they weren't comfortable with discussing but they could actually talk to me like parents should. And my mom and dad both told me they accepted me for who I am. Don't get me wrong though... I still have tendencies to feel that my mom doesn't fully accept me, my husband, and our marriage. But that's her issue... not mine.
Coming out is a very scary ordeal. You're not the only one who is dealing with the anxiousness, the fear of public shunning, and worry of losing friends and family. It happens. You have to stop caring about what others think. You have to be happy for yourself. You have to do what makes you comfortable with life. I assure you, when the time is right you'll know. There is never a right or wrong time to come out. But trust me, when you do come out... it'll be the best decision you ever made and you will literally- physically, mentally and emotionally feel free.
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
Capricorn
