Share Your Coming Out Story With Us

I was raised in the United Methodist Church. I was married and had a  son. In 1984 at the age of 39, I went to college and then seminary.  While in seminary in 1993 I fell in love with a woman. In 1994 I  divorced my husband. J. and I had a long distant relationship firing my  ministry. After I retired our relationship began to come to an end. I  finally came out in 2015 at the ad of 70. On Feb. 8, 2016 I moved to St.  Petersburg, FL. On June 16 I met a lesbian who happened to live in my  building. I knew when I saw her she was the one. We talked and dated and  on Aug. 17, 2016 we were married in Cuchara, Colorado. Europe’s family  had garnered to celebrate Eunice’s 80th birthday. We even had a  honeymoons cabin behind the house where family was staying. We spent a  week there. We are very happy and very much in love. It is possible at  the age of 71 and 80 to find the love of your life?!!!

Growing up I suspected I was different when I was very young. I can  remember vividly my dad mad over something trivial and screaming in my  face til it was covered with his saliva and threatened me with death and  to be buried in the back yard at age 7 after he had busted my nose.  Later he continually pushed me to do things I didn’t want to do. I was  continually attacked by him on a regular basis and it seemed to happen  more so after hearing a commotion downstairs and when I went to check he  had my mother in the bathtub smacking her head off of it. They  separated for a short time and then got back together. He never hit her  again but it seemed all his rage was then passed to me. Setting on the  floor watching Saturday mourning cartoons in my underwear he came home  upset again. Not a word was said. I have two other siblings. Each only a  year apart. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me from the ground  feet dangling while he shook me by the hair screaming that I needed to  clean the house. These are just examples. Later in life since I couldn’t  do arts, musicals etc. (Got beat over a grease musical in which I got a  lead role in.) Because it wasn’t manly or interfered with football  which I was forced to play all through my school years. I started  experimenting with alcohol and other things. And then had a break down  at 17. I had gotten in trouble while running around with two other  outcasts who happened to be girls. We had taken golf carts from the  local golf club and played bumper cars late at night. During this time I  had an epiphany. There was nothing I could do to change the fact I was  gay. I cried, prayed, my face went paralyzed temporarily on one side  (bells Palsy) stress induced.  I later confided in a friend. And it felt  so good. I however made a mistake and told a girl who had a tendency to  tell everything ever told to her. The next day the whole school knew.  This school was your typical small town football school with no mixed  culture. We had one black girl who was raised by white parents and she  was harassed and called racist slurs. Next thing I know I’m plunged head  first into a battle field. That first day of getting outed I fought. I  beat the kid badly after class. He said before the altercation he was  going to “catch me on a backroad and slit my throat”. Things like that  continued for a good while and now life is slowing down. I’m just ready  for comfort.

Pierrot Obi, 25, singer-songwriter, London.
 

I was born in Northern Italy, in Central Reggio Emilia; we moved to the  very outskirts of Reggio when I was 8, to an in-the-middle-of-nowhere  type of town called Campagnola Emilia; to this day, Campagnola is the  place I call “hometown”.
 

I’m the first of three, born in a very strict and poor Nigerian family. I  always knew I was different; to be quite frank, I thought I was pretty  normal until I was told that, in fact, I was different. To me, it was  normal to prefer having girlfriends, playing dress up. My only guy  friends, where the ones I would kiss under the slide. As far as I can  remember, I was always physically attracted to boys. My very first crush  was on a cartoon character from an old Japanese anime. I didn’t have a  name for what I was feeling inside, until, one day, a classmate of mine  came up to me and asked me “is it true that you’re a faggot?”; I must  have been 9. If I recall correctly, I went straight to the teacher and  asked her “Miss, what does “faggot” mean? “. I can’t remember what was  her answer.
 

I was relentlessly and mercilessly bullied for most of my school life; I  was an easy target, the only black and flamboyant kid. From the minute I  hopped on the morning bus to school, up until I got home in the  afternoon, it was a daily Calvary. I used to get pushed around, thrown  things at, chanted at; any action you associate with bullying, I  probably went through it. One time, I’ll never forget, I was part of the  school musical and at the end of the show I came out for my bows; this  guy, one of my most avid bullies, came to my ear, as I was taking my  bow, and whispered “you die, you faggot”. I didn’t react, I never said  anything, I never defended myself. My only defense mechanism was to  pretend I wasn’t there, my brain would shut off and I would convince  myself that that was not happening to me.
 

By the time I got to high school, I was basically a recluse. I didn’t go  out, I didn’t socialize much. I was mostly in the classroom, church and  home. Home life was just as problematic. I was on the receiving end of a  childhood filled with physical, verbal and psychological abuse from  both my parents. My parents were very young and inexperienced when they  had me. As far as I’m concerned, my childhood was loveless; what I can  mainly remember were the daily beatings, the yelling, the verbal abuse,  the violence. I ran away from home 3 times; the third time, the police  got involved, took me back home and convinced me that, if I really  wanted to leave, I had to wait until I turned 18. I believe my parents  always knew I was gay, but in a Nigerian family homosexuality is a big  No-No; so the fact that their first male child was gay, needless to say  that they didn’t take it well. I didn’t tell them though, they simply  found my collection of gay porn in the computer. “you can’t be gay,  because gays go to hell” was my mum’s opinion on the matter; “I won’t  allow you to be a faggot in my house” was my father’s. I was 14 by then  but they didn’t know that I had been sexually active since I was 12.
 

I was 12, he was 28, but I told him I was 17. Looking back, I was  looking to fill the void my whole life created in me. I did not care if  it was coming from a complete stranger I had met at the swimming pool,  all I wanted was to be loved, to be held.
 

As soon as I finished high school, I moved as far and as quickly as I  could to London. I wanted my own space, I wanted to be on my own. I  wanted to become a professional singer, I wanted to be happy. I knew  that the only way I could be happy was to leave my hometown, and so I  did. But that’s when things down-spiralled almost out of control. All  the issues that I failed to deal with in my childhood, they all jumped  at me at once and I was not ready for it. Depression and anxiety became  my daily companions; I have attempted suicide 3 times since I moved to  London; because of my lifelong need to be loved I got into toxic  relationships that, by the time they ended, left me lonelier, sadder,  more broken.
 

Luckily, I found friends along the way who loved me dearly. I found the  strength to come out to them and they’ve accepted me with love, and I’m  so thankful for that. They pushed me to seek help, which is what I did.  Fast forward to the present time, I’ve been diagnosed with Borderline  Personality Disorder, which allowed me to start therapy, get on  medications and to begin my recovery.
 

I’m just at the beginning of my recovery. I’ve come to terms with the  fact that life is tough. Life is like a wind: sometimes it blows against  you, other times it blows in your direction. It’s all about what you  make of those moments, it’s all about never giving up on yourself. We  are alive; we have the utmost privilege to be here now, to be alive. It  is our gift back to The Creator to make the most out of it.
 

I’m learning to put myself first, I’m learning to love myself. I’m  nowhere near fixed, I’m still working on bettering my relationships with  my parents, who have shown the desire to redeem themselves and to make  it right now. I’m learning the immense power of forgiveness, the peace  it gives you. There’s still so many questions I have, I don’t know what  will be of me tomorrow; but today: I am trying
I deserve peace. I deserve to be happy. I am ready to be happy.

Here’s the backstory: Ever since I was young I always pictured myself  with boys, you could say I was as straight as a line. But one day in 6th  Grade I was in line with my best friend. She was so sweet and nice and  was just an all around good person. That’s when I realized something  that even surprised me. I totally got butterflies when I was around her  and I thought she was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I stared  at her as she talked to me. I’m pretty sure I had my mouth open. When  we went to lunch one day  we sat down at our usual spot together. “Happy  Pride Month.” She randomly said (it was around June 3rd), mind you I  discovered I was bi a few months back. Did I make it that obvious that I  liked her or something. Stupidly I asked her if she was gay, bi, etc.  She said she was straight but she didn’t know yet. I waited a second.  She seemed nice enough to tell. “I’m bi” I told her after hesitation.  She was so supportive but I just couldn’t come to tell her I liked her. I  moved on with my life and even started to like a boy. I wondered if it  was just a phase. Nope! That summer when I hung out with her the same  butterflies hit my tummy. To this day I still like her but am totally  scared to tell her. I also am totally scared to tell my parents  (Hardcore Christians). I don’t even know what to tell my grandma because  every time we see a gay couple she turns to me and sticks her tongue  out. It felt nice to come out, but I’m not sure how to tell my parents,  please help.

 I was 22 years old I came out to my sister. We were at a dance club and I just could hide it anymore. I called her over and said I’m gay. She stood there for a minute then replied saying she kind of knew that and called all her friends over and told them. I ended up meeting a guy that night it was great I could be with him without hiding.it was the best night I have ever had.

Brad Lund

As a young boy growing up in a very conservative, very baptist family, I  was very aware of the stance my dad and brother had towards  homosexuality, I knew from birth that God hated homosexuality, that it  was an abomination, that it was punishable by death, these feelings were  only supported by the gag-reflexes of my father and brother at any gay  mention or individual they found in public. Yet among all the homophobic  commotion brought up in my family, grew a young boy who shared their  hatred, there was no way the oldest of both sons, the one destined to be  an architect, with straight A’s, could be gay, right?
 

I got a job working in a health store at the age of 18, by that time,  the feelings i was feeling only continued to grow. It was not much to  think about when i was younger, but as my hormones grew in tension so  did my attraction; an attraction i didn’t share with my younger brother,  an attraction for other men. Confused, frustrated, and all alone, I  found myself curled up in a ball in the corner of the health store where  i worked, crying and praying that God would heal me, that i could be  normal. I didn’t know what to do, the girlfriends I swooned never lasted  more than a week with me, women just didn’t excite me. I sought outside  help, a school mate I knew from high school. I didn’t know he was gay,  but one day surfing through the dating sites i used, i came across his  picture on the men seeking men category where I instantly recognized  him. Communicating with him came to a surprise to both of us as he was  also surprised that I am gay. I was desperate for help and I hoped that  my classmate could help me figure out these feelings i wanted to get rid  of so much. It was the last straw for me, I tried everything. I tried  going to the gym, took testosterone boosting supplements, dated women,  surrounded myself with very masculine guys, all in an attempt to drown  out my feelings, to smother them out before It was too late.  Unfortunately to my dismay, they never did, they persisted, and they got  MUCH worse! I started having feelings for my best friend, my schoolmate  argued with me every single day to come out to my parents. He was the  child who had no issues coming out to his parents, in fact they told him  they knew and they loved him; i on the other hand, knew without a  reasonable doubt, that my dad would all but stone me to death in his  living room.
 

Come one early morning, the week of picking classes for college, I’m  sitting on the couch talking with my dad about my future and the path he  helped lay out for me, when his phone rings. My dad owns his own  business, so it was not uncommon for him to receive calls during all  times of the day, not to mention I was used to conversations being  interrupted by his business calls. This call however, was different, my  dad remained silent, and his onlooking glare turned from interested, to a  complete disgust and hatred I’ve never seen him make, in which he  turned to me to ask. There is a guy on the phone, he says he is in front  of our house waiting for you and is threatening to call the police on  me, he said you are gay and he is waiting to take you away. The only guy  I knew whom i put my trust in to help me, had looked up my fathers  number and just outed me, my life had just ended that moment. The heart  of an innocent young adult who never got into trouble, who did his best  all his life, his life was now over, left bare to the wrath of his  father. I did the only thing I knew, I submitted, I told my schoolmate  that it was over, and to never call me again. My father among his  slinging insults and slander to my fragile emotions, had taken a  metaphorical hammer and bashed my heart into a thousand pieces. I was  brought to therapy, held susceptible to my feelings by rules of  engagement. I was not allowed to partake in certain activities, for fear  of sprouting further corruption in my life. I was to be cured, by a  strange man I’ve never met in my entire life, a man who beat into my  head the errors of my way. He confused me more and what’s more, infused a  fear in me that i still have issues with to this very day.
 

One year later I managed to convince my dad to stop my therapy, that my  feelings were gone. However three months later my brother discovered a  secret in the form of a boyfriend, but the ensuing altercation went  differently. i managed to call my best friend and put my phone in my  pocket, he listened to the whole commotion from the other line, the  slander, the hate, the yelling and wall banging of my father. “You are  not my son, you are a demon, possessed. My son is dead. You are  disgusting, how can you like ass, get out, and give me your car keys!  You can only take what you can hold, but i want you gone,” My dad was  gone, my feelings were shattered, my mom was hysterical, she begged me  to stay, begged me not to leave her alone with him and my brother. I  needed out, It was over for me, my sanity was at its lowest. Meanwhile  my best friend was waiting to pick me up in front of the house where he  was currently in an altercation with my younger brother. I got in my  friends car and we drove to his place so i can get back on my feet with  time.
 

Since that experience, I’ve had no help adjusting to my feelings, I’ve  been watching videos on YouTube to feel better about my choice to leave,  they hardly helped. One day I opted to overdose and take my life but  failed, I was caught mid act and forced to stop by my coworker. Since  then, I have been working to get into my own place, i am still at odds  with my dad and brother, a situation that i fear will never change as  long as i live.

So…no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, you’ve come to the  realization that you ARE gay. You’ve really known it for as long as you  could remember, but hoped that it would magically go away or fix itself.  This is how I felt when I was still in the closet. The thing is, is  that you and I are NOT broken. You are merely at a crossroads in life  that millions of people have, are, and will struggle with. I did.
 

I remember when I was in my grade school years lying in bed at night not  able to sleep, clenching the sheets over my head asking myself, “Why  me? Why did this have to happen to ME?!” I thought that if my terrible  secret got out it would hurt all of the important people in my life. So I  played a part. I played a part of someone I was supposed to be. Someone  that was NOT me. There is nothing more damaging to your soul than  “living” life pretending to be someone else. It puts you in a dark place  that seems to get bigger, darker, and more empty, every lonely day. You  may think you’re all alone, and in all of your despair you don’t  realize…there are so many (just like (but not exactly like) you) that  are sharing your pain. It’s that damned closet. Well…step outside. It  gets better. Life is so much brighter outside of the closet.
 

My sisters were the ones that helped me over my threshold. I was close  to them and they knew, but I didn’t know they knew. I thought I had  everyone fooled, because the man I lived with was my “room mate.” They  had me over for dinner one night and after dessert just flat out asked  me. I was so shocked and blindsided that I couldn’t do anything but  confess the truth. And as I heard myself for the first time admitting to  someone, “I am gay,” I overwhelmingly felt scared, yet liberated. I  knew that from that point on life was going to change in a major way. I  knew that I had to tell my parents, and when the time was right, I did.  My mom cried and tried to deny it for a week, but eventually (probably  from some coaching from my sisters) came to a realization. She told me,  “You are my son, and I will always love you no matter what. I just want  you to be happy.” With my dad I thought it would go one of two ways.  Either he’d blow his top and exile me from his life or he’d be like,  “Okay.” In hindsight, I was silly to think he’d react any differently  than the latter, because he told me, “You are my son, and I will always  love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy.” I truly am one of  the lucky ones to have had such a supportive and unconditionally loving  family to help me through one of the most difficult times in my life.
 

That’s how simple everyone’s coming out story should be.  Unfortunately…it’s not. There’s a full gamut of conditions that will  determine the outcome of your coming out. What IS consistent in  everyone’s coming out story is that you must rise above the fear and  doubt. When the time is right you will know. And you simply won’t know  what the reactions of the people in your life are until you tell them.  Luckily there are plenty of resources that will help you out of the  dark, over the threshold, and into the light – especially now. I suggest  checking out the It Gets Better Project online. Watch some of the  videos. They will inspire you, make you smile, and probably make you  cry.
 

In my experiences I’ve lost some people and found new people. The  important ones – the ones that really mattered – stuck around. I’ve  discovered a whole new gay world that I never knew existed. There have  been ups and downs just like anyone’s roller coaster through life. Some  people will love you and some people will hate you. Some really won’t  give a damn. There will be romance and heartache; new life and lives  ended. Life will be life – gay, straight, whatever. But at least you can  go through yours and own it as the person that you truly are. Don’t  wake up one day in your fifties and realize that you’ve lived someone  else’s life, because you can’t get those years back. Come out while you  still have your life ahead of you.
 

People choose how honest to be with the world, and that is their right. I  don’t shove it down anyone’s throats or introduce myself to people  like, “Hi. I’m Jimmy. I’m gay.” But I sure as hell don’t hide it either.  I am so proud to be a gay man. And I wouldn’t have come to this point  if I hadn’t unfurled from the fetal position, stood up, and walked out  of that closet. You won’t know how people will react to your coming out  until you make that jump over your closet’s threshold, but know that  there is a wide support net out here waiting to catch you. It’s our gay  community. That’s why we call ourselves “family.”

 My coming out story has a bit of mixed feelings. I came out when I was eleven years old as enby and pansexual to my parents. I couldn't come out at school, since some kids were very obviously against the LGBTQ+ community, as was the principal. Since I was at the end of the fifth grade, I decided to just wait it out. I eventually came out to my three best friends after I moved away at the end of the school year, and my new middle school was so supportive! Books and the middle school's Spectrum Club saved me, showing me that other people felt like me. They gave me courage to be myself and show the world who I truly am. I found acceptance, and I hope everyone can find that, too.