I'm adding this section in hopes it may benefit someone out there. Everything I write is based on my personal experience and opinions, and I'm not generalizing -- I can only speak for myself. This is about struggling for self-identity, coming out, parents, and learning to respect yourself. It can be difficult, but it is possible for things to work out.

I had perhaps an 'above-average' childhood. I grew up in a house with two loving parents, three brothers and a sister. A large family, but we all got along well, and were fairly close. We had to be, though, because I lived out in the middle of nowhere in Prince Edward Island, and there weren't any kids in the area. I wasn't secluded by any means, though. I had lots of experiences from a very young age, and met many different people.

I was always encouraged to do things, and I was put in many lessons from the age of two. I've basically tried everything, *laughs* from bagpiping to ballet. So, I was kept busy, had a few friends, and was fairly well known. My family was very religious, and I grew up going to church and Sunday school. I guess you could say I had a lot going for me, but somehow, not everything was right.

I started grade 2 when I was 6. I never did grade 1. Sometimes this was what I blamed for my feeling 'different' in school, but I know now that it really didn't have anything to do with it. I was quite capable of dealing with the grade I was in. I got along extremely well academically, and I was always at the top of my class. For some reason, though, I never quite got along so well when it came to people. I had friends and I was well liked, but I felt awkward in some situations.

Every now and then I would meet a girl who I -really- wanted to be friends with. There was no special reason why I should want to be, but I would feel drawn to her and I would love being around her. And sometimes I would get jealous if she spent a lot of time with other friends. *laughs* Not guy friends, just other female friends. I desired an intimacy with someone, but it was a female I wanted it with. I never understood why, or even realized that it was like that... but it was. To be honest, I was attracted to these girls. Oh, they were just little crushes, sure, but they were definite attractions.

There came a time when I was just confused. I didn't know what I wanted, or why I wanted it. It was a struggle to find a guy to be attracted to -- something I never succeeded at. I started fighting with my parents more, fighting with my friends, I became fairly bitter. I just didn't understand. I knew in the back of my mind that I had a thing for women, but I wasn't about to admit it. Not to myself, not to anyone. I hated myself and the thoughts I was having.

So, where does all this self-hatred lead to? You betcha. Yes, I attempted suicide. More than once. And it's not something I'm proud of. I don't think I ever really wanted to die, or I would have, but I wanted help. I wanted to understand. I wanted the pain to end. I ended up in the hospital after one attempt. That has to have been the scariest day in my life. I remember the doctor telling me he was going to call my mother. God, I was terrified. And my mother was angry. She yelled and raved and asked 'if I was happy now' and I shelled up. No, I wasn't happy. Couldn't she see that was the point?

About a month after this incident, I was out with my mother. She asked me if I was attracted to one of my female friends. I told her she was crazy... but she wasn't. She was right. But my mother dropped the issue and never brought it up again. To prove that I was attracted to guys I went out there and flirted with every one I saw. But I couldn't get close to them... I didn't really care about them. They made great buddies, but as soon as one wanted a date, I backed away. I went out with a few, kissed a couple, but for the most part, I kept my space. I tried to be intimate with them, but I just couldn't do it.

I never really got close to my parents again for a long time. I went and talked to lots of doctors so they could try to figure me out. I went through them fairly quickly. I had to lie to them. When you live in a small town where everyone knows you, you can't just tell someone "I'm confused about how I feel about my friends". At least I couldn't say that. So I went along with whatever they told me, dutifully took my medication, and pretended that fixed everything. It fixed nothing.

Eventually I left home to start university. Trouble started again. I met a girl who I found myself attracted to, and all those old mixed-up feelings came back. I was a repressed Christian -- I wasn't allowed to be having those thoughts. Again it was the same fights, the same confusion, and finally the same depression. I was scared of myself, but afraid to tell my parents. I ended up turning to my brother and asking for help. I didn't tell him about the confused emotions, but I did tell him I was hurting. And he helped me get home and work it out with my parents. After that, I started getting close to my parents and family again. So, first year ended roughly, but I delt with it, and I was ready to face second year.

I did a lot of thinking that summer. I forced myself to face religion, to face my thoughts, to think about what they could mean. I asked myself what it meant to be gay, if there was a right or wrong to it, how you knew. I became interested in the subject, and was fairly curious about what anyone had to say on the topic when it arose. Finally I reached my conclusion: I was a lesbian, and it meant nothing other than that I wanted a woman. The only difference was in who I desired to love. I discovered a personal morality that went beyond pure religion. I discovered the joys of humanity, the joys of life. I discovered there were no boundaries to love.

Now I just had to explain this to my parents.

First I told some of my friends. It was so different to think that I was a lesbian, and to actually say it to someone. I chose carefully who I would tell... people who I knew were open-minded, understanding, and accepting. So, I told a few people, and all my experiences were good. People were surprised, but it was just like "Ok. Whatever." All was good. I didn't want too many people to know, though... not yet. I go to a small university, and there are many people here from my home town. I wanted my parents to know, but I wanted them to hear it from me, not by some rumor. So I knew I had to tell my parents before I could tell any more people at university. So, one weekend my parents came to visit me, and I decided that now was the time.

I wanted to tell them face to face. I wanted to tell them because I didn't want to hide from them, or feel guilty about my life. I had nothing to be ashamed of. So I suggested to my mother that weekend that we go for a walk. We strolled for a few steps, and I stammered out some lame introduction to what I had to say. Then I gave up and just said, "Mom. I'm gay." She stopped, she looked at me, she looked away. She didn't say anything. It was tense.

Eventually she said a few words, asked a few questions, told me she was disappointed, told me it was hurtful. I took it all in stride. I was prepared for it. I knew who I was, and I wasn't going to falter because of my mother's initial reaction. She told me that she wanted to tell my father, and she didn't want me to tell my brothers or sister. I said okay. Then they went home. I went back to my room and cried. I was so relieved -- it was done. I got a phone call from my mother that night, she had told my father. She said, "He told me to tell you he still loves you". I hung up the phone and sighed... that's right. Love the sinner, hate the sin.

My parents were uncomfortable with it, and I knew they would be uncomfortable with me living an openly gay life. But I felt free. I wanted finally, for once in my life, to be honest with the world.

How are things with my parents now? Well, better. I can't say they're comfortable with it, and they still don't want me telling my siblings, but things aren't  so awkward. I don't think I'm quite so 'hurtful' to them anymore. They don't know how open I am -- and I am quite open -- and I suppose that would bother them, but I want to be able to feel myself. I love myself, and I love who I am, and I'm not ashamed of any thoughts I have. I've discovered a new depth to life... something real. I'm not trying to prove a point, I'm not trying to go against the world... I'm just trying to be happy. And I am happy, and to me that's all that matters.

Good luck to anyone out there struggling with this issue. Love yourself and I believe you can make things work out. "It's up to you."
Life is wonderful and has lots to offer... we just have to get out there and find it. We can only make the best decisions we can... and our odds of making a right decision are increased when we choose what makes us really, truly happy.

Thank you, honey. You make me really glad to be who I am.  

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