This is the story of how I overcame the greatest challenge I've ever faced. It's quite personal and I've shared bits and pieces of it with those close to me, but here it is in its entirety.
I knew from an early age that I was different, but it wasn't until puberty when I realized exactly how. "Ohhh, that's what's wrong with me." It was a dreadful revelation. I already had a difficult time relating to and being comfortable around my peers. Now, any hope I had of that happening lay shattered before me.
Growing up, my only understanding of what it meant to be gay came from the outrageously flamboyant characters seen on T.V. Unfailingly, I felt that they were portrayed as weak and ridiculous; there simply for comic relief. I believed that if people found out I was gay that I would never be taken seriously. "They'll think I'm a joke."
I made every effort to block my feelings and deny who I was. "I'm not gay. I just haven't been with a girl yet. When I do, I will realize just how wonderful the female body is." Yes, this is really how I thought. I spent countless unsuccessful hours trying to convince myself that I wasn't who I was. I've always been pretty good at finding solutions to problems; being able to work hard to complete an objective. It frustrated the hell out of me knowing that this dream of becoming straight was unattainable. I would pray to God every night to take away the pain. I wanted to be "normal" with every fiber of my being.
For several years I planned on always keeping this part of me a secret. I had full intentions of eventually meeting a woman and faking a relationship, marriage, and love. "When I start dating and then get married, my secret will be safe." My thoughts were so twisted. As I matured I realized how incredibly selfish this mentality was. I could never betray an innocent person like that. It was then that accepted that I would always be alone.
The words "gay" and "fag" were thrown around often and carelessly by the kids at school. "What a gay test." "That teacher is such a faggot." Nine times out of ten these words weren't used to mean "homosexual". They meant "awful", "annoying", "weak", and "unwanted". Hearing these words used in this way was a persistent assault on my self-esteem. "Remember Greg, all the other guys think that what you are is awful, annoying, weak, and unwanted. You cannot allow them to find out." My confidence was non-existent.
I still sometimes hear the word "gay" used to convey the meaning of "bad". When I hear it in this way, it no longer hurts me personally. I have managed to establish self-worth that is independent from the opinions of others. I just hope those that continue to use the word in a negative way, realize that there may be some young gay kid listening and they just took a shot at their soul.
I watched as my friends began to date others of the opposite sex. Soon they all had experience in relationships. I felt extreme nervousness whenever the conversation turned to girls, dating, or sex. "What are they going to ask me? Are they going to try to find out if there's someone I like? Are they going to question why I haven't dated anyone or why I don't enjoy talking about girls?" I could never relax.
I had little desire to socialize due to the stress I felt whenever I did. I would avoid gatherings and parties. I wouldn't answer the phone when my friends called. I was in a self-imposed exile. I thought that the closer I grew to others, the harder it would be to come out to them. I believed that things would be easier if I had the opportunity to start fresh with new people.
During the entire final year of high school, I dreaded the thought of prom night. I felt very pressured to attend, but that meant that I would need a (female) date. I believed that I was already viewed as a loser. I didn't want to add to that reputation by going alone. "So Greg, who are you taking to prom?" I was asked several times by different people. "Oh, I'm not sure yet." I didn't want to deal with this problem and I avoided it for as long as I could. During the month of graduation I asked a neighbor and friend if she would go with me, but it was too late. She was already going with somebody else. A couple of days before the big night, I was playing cards with some friends when one of them said, "Greg, I know that you still don't have a date. There's a girl that would go with you, but you'll have to do the asking." I was relieved. I knew a little bit about her. She was a friend of my friend's girlfriend, a year younger, pretty, and sweet.
I can't remember, but it was either the day before or morning of prom night when I asked her over the phone if she would go with me. Poor girl. I sat in my room beside the phone for several hours rehearsing what I would say. When I eventually called, my voice was shaky and I tripped over my words a few times. I was so thankful that she agreed to go with me on such short notice. This was supposed to be one of the most enjoyable days of my young life, but all that I could feel was despair. I so wanted to be comfortable and confident enough to bring a guy to prom, but that reality just wasn't possible.
I bought my date dinner. It was the least that I could do. Together with some friends we went to a house party with the plan of having a couple drinks before heading to prom. I had barely stepped foot inside the house when I heard, "Greg's here! Greg's drinking! "Pour him a shot!" Social gatherings and alcohol were two things that I generally avoided, and it looked like the other guys were not going to waste this rare opportunity to get me drunk. I stupidly drank everything that I was handed. I didn't care. I wanted to dull my feelings and escape from the overwhelming hopelessness.
I woke up on a hospital bed. My father was looking down at me as a nurse removed an IV needle from my wrist. I was terrified and confused. "What happened?" I asked. "Well Greg, you had a little too much to drink last night," said the nurse. My dad spoke very little, but his disappointment was suffocating. The nurse put on a band-aid where the needle had been. "Promise me that I will never find you like this again," she said. I was disgusted with myself. "I promise," I said holding back tears.
The ride home was torturous. What I wanted most in life was to make my parents proud, but I had just let them down in such a devastating way. When we got home, my mom was waiting at the top of the stairs. I couldn't bear to see the look on her face. I grabbed a bucket and went to my room. The head throbbing and vomiting were welcomed distractions from my very depressing thoughts. "If I drank just a little more I could have died... why couldn't I have drank just a little more."
There had been a handful of days when the despair that filled me felt too great a burden to bear, but this was certainly my lowest point. I seriously contemplated ending it all. I had previously researched how to go out quick and painlessly. I had already written my goodbye letter. All that was stopping me was the pain that I knew I would cause my mother when she discovered my lifeless body.
I was still deep inside the closet two years after graduating high school. Several people from my hometown went to the same university as I did. I found it too difficult to come out when surrounded by so many people that knew me. At the end of two years at that school, I transferred. I told people that I needed to go to a school near the Pacific Ocean since that's where I grew up, but the real reason was because I wanted to be alone. I packed my bags and bought a bus ticket. I intended on severing all contact with my friends and that's exactly what I did. Someday when I return to Canada, I'd really like to reconnect with them. They were a great group of people. I was just too uncomfortable with myself.
I didn't know anyone in the new city, but that's what I wanted. I felt that I had momentarily escaped the questioning. I think my isolation was needed. It gave me the opportunity to analyze my feelings and decide how I wanted to proceed with them.
There are several stages to coming out. I was long over denial. Even if I was unhappy about it, I had accepted the fact that I was gay for several years now. During the period of reclusiveness and introspection was when I realized that there was nothing wrong about being gay. I believed what really helped me was reading the online stories of other gay men on how they overcame their challenges. I watched a number of YouTube videos of gay couples with their children. It warmed my heart and gave me hope. I've always wanted to start a family of my own one day, but for so long I believed that wasn't possible. It was nice to have video proof that it was. I gradually became happy with who I was. I told myself that one day I would date, fall in love, and marry someone that I wanted to be with. The darkness that shrouded my future began to lift.
After I completed my degree I spent a couple months living at home before heading to Korea. I knew that this was the time to tell my family. I was unsure of the next time I would see them. For the past several months I had been exchanging e-mails and calls with another gay guy. He offered his time and advice. Coming out to my family would have been much more difficult without his support.
For several nights in a row I planned on telling my mom. It would eventually get too late and I would tell myself, "Tomorrow." Finally one night well past midnight, I was downstairs sitting with her as she prepared school lessons for the next day. As she got up to leave for bed I said, "Mom, can I talk to you." I motioned for her to sit down beside me. "What's the matter?" she asked. I felt as if she knew what I was about to say. I grabbed her hand and held it tight. Every second felt like an eternity. "Mom, I'm gay." It was so hard for me to get those words out. Forever passed as I waited for her reaction. I had years to come to terms with this aspect of myself. I knew that she would also need time to process this information. "That's alright. That's fine," she finally said. "I love you, Greg." She asked a few questions, but for most of the next hour we spent silently holding one another.
I told my younger sister next. I found it easier to tell the women in my family than the men."Wait, I'm confused. Does this mean that you don't like girls?" I smiled and gave her a hug. I remember my dad's jaw literally dropping when I told him, but he also took it very well. "You're a good guy and I just want you to be happy," he told me. I felt so relieved.
The last person I told in my family was my younger brother. I have always had great admiration for him, oftentimes bordering on outright jealously. He never had a shortage of good friends. It was as if people lined up to be near him. He had a confidence in social situations that I couldn't even comprehend. Regrettably, I took a lot of anger out on him due to envy and self-pity. After one particularly harsh exchange of words, we didn't speak to one another for a couple of years. When I told him that I was gay he appeared completely cool. We didn't hug then, but we did before I left for Korea. "I'm proud of you, man. Now go live life." Those were the most healing words that anyone has ever told me.
Coming out to the friends I've made in Korea was painless. Homosexuality is a very taboo subject here and I'm not out to the Koreans that I work with. But outside of work I'm not hiding who I am, although neither am I (consciously) broadcasting the fact that I'm gay.
As I alluded to before, my greatest regret in life is that growing up, I took out so much of my anger and frustration on my family members. I loathed myself so intensely and too often would this hatred pour out of me like water from a broken dam. I said and did some awful things to the people I love most. I begged for their forgiveness and was fortunate to receive it.
As difficult as this experience was for me, there is still much to be thankful for. Although I was terrified of disappointing my parents, I never really doubted their love once they found out. I never worried about being abandoned. And unlike gay people in some unfortunate areas, I never feared execution. Comparatively, I had it pretty easy.
If you offered me while growing up, a pill that would make me straight, I wouldn't hesitate taking it. Now, absolutely not. It's not that I'm proud of being gay. It's that I'm finally happy with who I am. Looking back, I'm grateful that I went through that torment. It has given me an appreciation for and perspective on life that I doubt I would have if I never experienced that darkness. I spent too many years paralyzed with fear. Now that the giant boulder has been lifted off my shoulders, I can finally navigate this journey unhindered. I will live my life the way that I want to. Never again will I allow fear to control me as it did.
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