I came out as a lesbian when I was 19. By then, I was a year into being clean and working a program of recovery. Being sober showed me that I’d hated myself the majority of my life, largely because I believed my sexuality was wrong, sinful, and abominable, and disgusting, and that I was all those things as a person, too. More than a decade later, I’m sharing my journey in how I came to accept myself and learn that there’s nothing worth sacrificing my authentic self for. And for you, dear reader, know that you are a beautiful human being, worthy of love and respect, regardless of your sexual identity. 

Second Grade: Oh, I guess I’m a “tomboy”

Some people knew they were part of the LGBT community their whole life. That wasn’t me. I knew there was something different about me, but I didn’t quite know what that was. I had a weird relationship with women: I didn’t really like being around them because they made me nervous and were intimidating to me. 

Growing up, I felt much more comfortable around boys. I much preferred playing in the woods, climbing trees, and running around than playing with dolls or caring about makeup or my appearance matching typical “feminine” standards. I couldn’t stand wearing dresses or any sort of heel elevated shoe. I didn’t know why, I just hated it. 

(On one Mother’s Day, I remember taking my shoes off and running to my grandma, hoping she’d understand and not make me wear the heels my mom wanted me to wear. She understood.)

In second grade, I learned and embraced the term “tomboy”— a girl who enjoys doing things more commonly associated with boys. I didn’t think much past that in terms of my sexuality until much later when I was in college. But a lot went on under the surface between second grade and then that made my path to accepting my identity even more painful and complicated.

Becoming super religious 

After my mom and dad divorced when I was in elementary school, my dad became very religious. Though I lived with my mom (a single mother with 3 kids), I was looking for a way to be more connected to my dad, so I became super religious too. (This wasn’t a conscious decision at the time. I can only piece the reasoning behind that now in retrospect.) By 6th grade, I was carrying a Bible to school, reading it every chance I had, and went to church 4-5 times a week for main sermons, youth sermons, prayer groups, and any other God-related stuff I could get my hands on.

As a 12-year-old, I would go to purity seminars and hand out tracks to adult passersby at the mall about converting to Christianity. I was indoctrinated and was ready to answer any objections as to why different behavior was sinful. 

It just so happens a key sin I learned about was homosexuality. I became the one telling gay people they were going to hell for their abomination. I’d explain how being gay was a choice, and how what they were doing was disgusting in the eyes of God.  

(Even today, it’s hard to even write that stuff. It hurts my heart that I so unreservedly believed that about myself, and pushed that judgment onto others as well. The gratitude I have is that today that experience gives me compassion for those who are stuck in their judgment, because I remember being there, too.)

There was NO conscious thought about me being gay at this point. I suppressed that stuff DEEEEEEEP down. After all, I was a good young God-fearing, Jesus-loving Christian girl. There’s no way I could be gay.

Leaving the church & finding drugs

It wasn’t until a few years later after a fight with my dad that I left the church that I realized how lost I was. I filled the void with drugs and got high as much and as often as I could. 

By now I’m a junior/senior in high school, I started experimenting sexually with men, even though I still had that funny feeling that I now realize is called attraction whenever I was around a lady I liked. The only way I could let myself embrace any aspect of my sexuality was if I was intoxicated. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was trying to numb out the voice inside saying, “This doesn’t feel right to my spirit. What the heck am I doing having sex with these men?”    

It wasn’t until I got clean and started doing some digging in recovery to realize what trauma I’d gone through and what I was hiding from myself. I gravitated towards my sponsor and life coach, Daniel, a gay, Spanish grandfatherly figure, who helped me undo a lot of that old religious programming and helped me learn to accept and love all parts of myself.

One of the things I remember really leaving a mark on me was when I was struggling to accept myself and he said, “Hiding your sexuality is hiding the most beautiful part about yourself.”

Eventually I realized that the potential pain in coming out was less than the pain I was in if I stayed in hiding.

Coming out and not needing to explain myself

So I came out, first, to myself. I accepted that I wasn’t this sex-crazed, lesbian, freak that I perceived other gay people to be. I was just someone who had the same fuzzy feelings and butterflies of attraction as anyone else, only I happen to feel those feelings around people of the same sex. 

My grandma was the first person I came out to in my family. I knew she’d be a safe place for me (remember that story about the heels?). She cheered me on and embraced me, as if it was worth celebrating! Her reaction was, “Well, yea, great!”

She reminded me that as I come out to the rest of my family, to remember that it isn’t my responsibility to explain myself to anybody. Being gay isn’t something I need permission for or to offer an explanation about. It’s just who I am, just as I don’t need to justify why my hair or eyes are brown.

I am super blessed for having a family that is very supportive of me and my sexual identity. Over time, even my dad has accepted this part of myself and loves me regardless. 

I realize that not everyone has this support in their journey, and that can be incredibly difficult when the people closest to you have love that is conditional on you being what they wanted you to be instead of who you authentically are.

Coming out isn’t just about sexuality–it’s about authenticity

It’s taken me a lot of work to get more comfortable with my sexuality over the years, and it’s still a journey. Internalized homophobia is a real thing. That basically means that from society giving the message of things like, “Gay people are disgusting or wrong,” eventually, it subconsciously becomes a reason to judge ourselves for. So many queer people hate themselves. In my story, this led me down a dark road of drugs and constant desperate need to escape from myself.

What I realize over a decade later is that accepting my sexuality isn’t just about sex or relationships. It’s about me being true to my authentic self. It’s about the courage in being who I am, regardless of who does or does not agree. 

Today, I accept myself and my sexuality, and I’m able to support other people struggling with their sexualities, too. 

If you’re struggling: It’s a hard path, but you’re not alone

For many people, the hateful families and communities they are surrounded by makes it seem  like it’d be better if they weren’t here at all than if they came out as who they really are. 

If you’re struggling with your sexual identity, please know that you’re not alone. Your journey may look very different from mine, and that’s okay. It will get better. There are people here to support you in the journey you’re on. Please know you’re not alone. Don’t think for a second that the world is better off without you. We need you. 

Some people will not understand and will not accept you. But for each of those people, there are 10 others that are ready to unconditionally love and support you for exactly who you are.