Thursday, October 14, 2010

It Gets Better

It seems like with the recent rash of teenage gay teen suicides that everyone is taking to their blogs whether it be video or written. I was watching some of the videos for the "It Gets Better" campaign today and I felt compelled to at least, in whatever small way, share my story. I'm sure a lot of people won't see this but I hope the ones who do will understand. Here goes...

Growing up in a small town is hard enough but growing up different seems almost impossible. What we don't realize at the time is that everyone is different. No one is 'normal' in Jr. High or High School. At Lenore Jr. High I was relentlessly teased about my sexuality, to the point I wasn't sure how much I could take. I hated gym class and was terrified of going into the locker rooms. None of these fears stopped when I made it to Tug Valley High School. I constantly tried to just blend in. The only places I felt comfortable were in my AP classes and my Theatre class. The kids I shared those classes with quickly became my best friends and the reason that I loved high school. We were all from different cliques and backgrounds and that seemed to work for us. I remember not having male friends until this time. I kept my head down in the halls and tried to stay as invisible as possible unless I was in a 'comfort zone'. I was still called names, which people may not know because I was perceived as being popular. I was still terrified of gym class and recall being glad there was another boy in my class who the bullies liked picking on more than me. I felt terrible for being so thankful he was there. I remember after many of our gym classes, the most relentless of the bullies would come out the showers completely naked and smack his 'member' on this poor kids head. The boys face has never left me, he was terrorized and eventually left the school. Another guy was basically forced out by bullying just because he wanted to be a cheerleader so High School was never a place where I cold be me and not worry about the back lash. I joke about it now because that's my coping mechanism. People often ask me if the people in High School knew I was gay and I tell them that I figure the boys who called me fagot on a daily basis seemed to know.

I was a depressed kid and stayed in my room a lot. I was in my room so much that my parents actually asked my brother if I was on drugs. I just found it easier to be alone but being alone threw me into a deep depression that I got very good at hiding. I was, and still am in many cases, 'the funny guy'. No one wants the funny guy to be sad, so I smiled through it and put on the happy face. But, as some of you may know, avoiding problems has it's downfalls. I was so depressed that I contemplated suicide on many occasions. I thought extensively about the different ways I could do it but something always happened to keep me away from it. The time I came the closest, with razor blade in hand, the phone rang...the voice on the other end was Steve May. Some people didn't and maybe still don't understand my relationship with Steve, but his voice saved my life that night. I was drowning and he was like me. I like to think we saved each other many times after that.

When I finally made it college, the depression followed and I realized after my freshman year that i couldn't be me if no one knew who I really was. So, on a rainy night in the Fairmont State parking lot I said it out loud for the first time. I told Sarah Hoffmaster, then Petree, that I was gay. She cried with me as I told her how I was struggling to understand why God, in his infinite wisdom, would have given me this burden. Why if He thought it was so wrong would I feel like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had been struggling with my religion my whole life, praying to be something different and then, in that moment, I realized I was who I was meant to be. God doesn't make mistakes. It became easier for me to just be me. I remember when a new school year started and I didn't feel like I needed to tell people I was gay because it didn't seem as important. It didn't feel like the thing that defined me anymore. I felt like more than just that label.

I still struggle with depression because of where I'm from and what I accepted as my reality back then but everything seems bearable now. I have friends who love and family who love me and accept me for who I am and know that being gay is only a minor part of that. I now know the struggle has made me who I am, as messed up as that can be sometimes. I realize that at some point, it just got better.

There are so many terrible experiences i could share but there are much more wonderful memories that seem to eclipse those now. I wish I could share them all, leaving no one who has helped me along the way out but I would inevitably forget something important.

So what I would say to anyone who might be reading this is that yes It Does Get Better. It seems easy to say and harder to believe when you're in the middle of it but it's true. Though there may be no one like you, there are a lot of people in a similar situation. Choose to live, choose to seek out the people who will love you, choose to help other people and to set an example and if you can't choose those things, choose to keep your head down until you can. But don't choose death, as hard as it is to imagine sometimes that it's not the only choice. Live your life because with each passing day...
It Gets Better.