My coming out story

I’ve always known I was different and attracted to guys. The earliest point I remember about speaking about my attraction to guys was with my mother. I always loved flicking through the catalogue and looking at the men’s underwear section as opposed to the female underwear section. I was about eight when I spoke to my mother about this attraction. I asked my mum why it was that I looking at guys pictures as opposed to female pictures. My mum was a little taken aback and queried whether I was looking at them in a ‘friendly sort of way’ or ‘in another sort of way.’ I will always remember the change in tone in my mother’s voice when she said “another sort of way”. The  change in tone indicated that it was bad if I liked looking at the pictures in “another sort of way.” I must have been very intuitive at age as I instantly and without thinking said it was only in a friendly sort of way.

About 2 years later when I was ten did I finally found out what I was. My parents are fanatically religious, we attended church three times a week and did regular bible studies as a family. It was during a personal bible study with my father that I instantly connected to a picture in a book. The picture was of two male cowboys kissing. I asked my father what the two men were doing. He said they were “homosexuals” and that god did not like them. He then talked about Sodom and Gomorrah in relation to God destroying the cities due to their homosexual activities of men sleeping with men.

I was being indoctrinated that men who were attracted to men were Satan’s people and thus would not get into heaven. The thought of not going to heaven was completely frightening to me at such a young age, but I knew who I was and who I was attracted to. In hindsight, this was probably the cause of many nightmares.

Therefore, I had to come to grips with being a homosexual at a very early age. I even fantasied about my Year 3 teacher and my fellow classmates. I didn’t know any other gay people at all, so I couldn’t discuss my attraction with anyone. I had to internalize, reconcile and process the indoctrination of the church with my feelings. I withdrew from my parents and put on an effective mask that all was well.

It was only when I was 17 did my mask come crumbling down. It all started with seizures. At first I did not know what was going on, I would be in the middle of something and then get this overwhelming feeling of danger. My heart would elevate, my breathing got shallow. I felt like I was having a heart attack. I had cat scans and MRIs to work out what was causing my seizures.

The results were normal, thus it was determined that it was psychosomatic. I was actually having strong panic attacks. I was transferred to a psychiatric hospital. The first night in a psychiatric hospital is completely scary. I cried myself to sleep. I knew I was fine if I only I could come to grips with telling my parents that I was gay. I was to spend three long months in the psychiatric hospital. I also spent two weeks in a padded cell as I was suicidal.

During my stay in hospital, I got to know my first gay person. We instantly connected and I found I had my first man crush. We talked for ages and were inseparable in the hospital. It was my feelings for this guy that made me finally come out to my parents on the phone. I was released a week later (yes, my psychiatrists thought that I had come to terms with my sexuality and thus was not required to stay in hospital – how wrong they were).

I had a long uncomfortable discussion with my father and mother. Their religious beliefs were that I had learnt my homosexuality. My reply to them was how could I possibly learn this behaviour if I was brought up in the religion and that I didn’t know any other gay people. For fuck’s sake I was a walking example that environmental factors did not play a part. However, to appease my parents, I agreed that I would continue to go to church and have meetings with the church priest to work through my issues. I also had reluctantly agreed to not contact the first gay person I had ever met. Needless to say I was emotionally upset and he was too. My actions would prove to be disastrous.

It was about three months after returning home, I was still on strong anti-psychotic medication. I felt I could no longer live this double life, I was destroying myself emotionally by trying to conform with my parents expectations and religious upbringing. Something broke inside me, my mind crystallised. I had tunnel vision that the only way out of this predicament was to commit suicide. It was a moment of sheer determination when I took a whole bottle of the medication (enough to kill at least 4 people). As I was falling asleep my mind was at rest, I felt free. I simply can’t explain the sense of utter satisfaction that all my worries would dissipate.

My next memory is waking up in the Intensive Care Unit with tubes in my mouth and cords everywhere. That moment of waking was extremely distressing. I wanted to die not to live through the torture that was my life. I found out that after falling asleep my parents found me walking around the house like a zombie completely unresponsive. They called an ambulance and I had my stomach pumped. I felt like shit, not only from the actions taken to save my life but the mere fact I was still alive.

I resolved that as I was still alive, I would take control over my life. I told my parents that I was gay and there was nothing they could do or say that would change the situation. I refused to attend church or attend bible studies. I was turning my back on religion. It was the best thing I have ever done.

My father was deeply distraught by this turn of events. He attempted to blackmail me to try and make me stay within the religion by saying that he would have to resign his priesthood as he couldn’t reconcile being a priest and bringing up a gay son. He also gave the usual speech – as long as you live under my roof you can’t practice being gay. Needless to say this was possible as I still did not know any other gay people. But I did not want to give my dad the satisfaction that his blackmail worked. I moved out within two weeks.

I tried to contact the first gay person I knew, only to be stonewalled and received no response.

Do I still talk with my parents? – Yes. We have reached an agreement to tolerate each other. My mother doesn’t ask too many questions and I don’t provide too much details. They initially still tried to preach to me saying that I was not going to go to heaven. I had the perfect response, if all the other gay people where not going to heaven then why would I want to go to heaven. They had no response to this.

Do I still love my parents? -  This is a very difficult question. They did bring me up the only way they knew how. I appreciate that I am the person I am today because of this upbringing. I honestly don’t know whether I can say I love them. I don’t hate them, I hate their behaviour and actions towards me.

I can say I hate religion, all types of religion. I am an atheist and do not believe in a divine being.