I'm From Driftwood

by Will O.

Shortly after graduating high school in 2002 I was mentally preparing myself to “come out” to my parents. My parents were the first people who I wanted to share this with because they were the most important people in my life.

Every night before I fell asleep I would say to myself, “Tomorrow is the day” but I would not be able to work up the nerve to tell them.

After many weeks of delaying this conversation with my parents I was emotionally drained and at a breaking point. After walking around for hours in the rain I came home and my parents knew something was wrong.

After I worked up the nerve to utter the words “I am gay” my mother said something that I will never forget.

My Mom said “I love you more today than yesterday, because you are being true to yourself and the world.”

After hearing those words I felt a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Coming out gave me strength to face the world as an adult who was proud of who he was. It taught me to never be ashamed of who I am and to never forget that I hold the key to my own happiness.

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motherjones:

The Rock has weighed in.

by Rick Clemons

It all started as I kicked out of the womb. No, I didn’t have an epiphany as I ventured down the birth canal. And it wasn’t some stress of being birthed that caused me to be gay. In reality, it was the venturing into the world that launched me into the yet uncharted territory of finding my true self.

Beyond the crib and potty training I embarked into the typical yet atypical life of a young boy. Riding bikes, playing Indians and Cowboys, watching Gilligan’s Island. On the other side of me I was fascinated with art, envisioned myself dancing on stage, and was a veritable fountain of emotions beyond what a “normal” young man should have.

In high school, the yearnings and stirrings led me to tip toe into relationships with girls, enjoying the kissing, heavy petting, and wonderment of what was happening between my legs, yet still not feeling like I was an active participant in the experience. Of course, like most gay men (if they would be honest), I had numerous unconscious crushes on my best friend, the gym teacher, and other guys that I found myself purposefully working my way into any activity that would just get me close to them. However, it was all very unconsciously conscious in retrospect.

In 1982 I was away at college and had 1) been sneaking off campus to take dance classes, 2) cruising around town, finding the few gay bars that existed, yet, never having the nerve to go in, 3) found myself being more and more bold with guys I perceived to be gay in my dorm…yet still not acting on my urges. All of this collided with a phone call home to Mom and Dad in which I announced “I’m Gay!” Not realizing how that conversation would change my life and save my life, I now see clearly that I may have been gay, but wasn’t truly ready to be gay. So back in the closet I went after some therapy and because, quite honestly, it wasn’t my time to be myself.

In 1986, after landing my first job out of college, I met a kindred spirit. This spirit just happened to be a woman. Joy of joys, I wasn’t gay after all. But who was I kidding. Yes we connected – intellectually, energetically, likes, dislikes, etc. I was able to be sexual with her without a lot of effort and before I knew it Mom and Dad were proudly standing for family wedding photos with their son who was no longer gay. Or so it seemed.

The years progressed and the epitome of married with kids prevailed. Nice home, world travel, successful careers, two beautiful daughters, good friends, ample money, yet below the layers of fat (close to 300 pounds on my 6’5” frame) I was miserable and life consisted of drinking, eating, keeping peace at home and sneaking around looking at gay porn and being a cheat. Yes, I admit I was a cheater. Not proud of it and making no excuses. Yet, I don’t believe that “once a cheater always a cheater.” Why? Because when you find yourself and you live your truth, “What is there to hide?” Nothing!

In 2002 on a trip to London, I found myself in the arms of a beautiful Brit, in his hotel room and for the first time I knew what being gay could truly be. We didn’t have sex, we had deep conversation and real intimacy…not sex. This really threw me for a loop! What was this I was feeling? How could this be happening? Who was I becoming? Two days later and a 12-hour flight back to the States I had answered all those questions and was ready to face my truth. A truth that there was no turning back from, or going back into the closet for, ever again.

I had seen what intimacy, passion, communication, and non-sexual life could be like with a man. Even weighing in at close to 300 pounds, this beautiful man had found me attractive, wanted me, and saw in me something that until that moment I hadn’t even seen in myself – a real man, a gay man, who needed to love himself and start living his truth. At that moment, the weight began to drop off of me, figuratively and literally.

Upon arrival at home, I summoned up every bit of courage I had and said, “Frankly my dear, I’m gay!” I’m not going to sugarcoat the rest of the story and say it was a fabulous celebration and we lived happily ever after. However, what I will share is, we (my ex-wife, my two beautiful daughters, my partner, and I) became the Modern Family before it was ever a hit TV sitcom. Did it happen overnight? Hell no. Was it easy? Hell no. Did it take work, compassion, give and take? Hell yes.

Is our story a fairy tale? To some it does seem that way. But in reality, when someone comes out of the closet, the first place to start with acceptance is within themselves. You’ve got to be 100% in you, your mind, your heart, and your body as an LGBT individual before you can expect anyone else to love you and accept you. Secondly, just because you’ve been preparing for this for 18, 25, 32, 38, 54 years – whatever your age when you come out – doesn’t mean all the rest of your peeps have had that same opportunity. It’s a bitch slap upside the head for most people when they hear the words, “I’m gay.” At that moment you have to realize you’ve just come out, but they may have just gone in the closet.

I have a theory, and maybe it’s because of the work I do as a coach working with all individuals through the “coming out journey,” that the more room we make for everyone to be in the journey in their way, the sooner we can all continue to live the journey of our lives exactly as we are intended.

Today, I am blessed. Blessed with a loving ex-wife; daughters who are very open-minded and non-judgmental towards others; a fantastic, patient, and sexy partner; parents who’ve taken their own journey and arrived at a space where mutual respect thrives; but most of all, I’m blessed to be doing work that means more to me than my jet-setting life ever did. I’m fortunate to wake up each and every day and work with people to help them cultivate their truth and embrace it.

My story contains pain, hurt, confusion, joy, fear, discouragement, happiness, and a different way of being in the world. In reality, it reflects life. The same life that anyone from any walk of life experiences. I’m thankful that I’ve been able to have this life, this experience, and to now help others grow into themselves with love, compassion, and respect.

-(Share your story with us!)

(TRIGGER WARNING: Child abuse, Drug use, Depression, Suicide attempt)

by Priscilla James

I was always raised in a Christan home. My parents always worked hard to help us kids. My family comes from Jamaica, but I was born here in the United States. I take a lot of pride in my family’s heritage. Growing up was hard because I had left a Christan school called Mt. Zion in Utica, New York and began going to public schools. I was very nervous and I struggled throughout high school always wanting to fit in and be popular. I hated myself because I was living a life no one would imagine. I was gay and afraid. I told some of my friends growing up that I struggled with identity issues and whether or not I wanted to be with a man or a woman. I lived a separate life not knowing what to do. My parents’ marriage was failing and my father was abusive to my mom. My mom got enough courage to leave him even though she lived in fear. She stood by her faith and never gave up hope that things were going to get better. This was all going on when I was 16.

I had dealt with some abuse when I was about 12. I always held it inside because I was ashamed. I had many friends, some who gave up on me and walked away because my lifestyle was out of control. I was drinking a lot, partying more than ever. I got into doing drugs and that’s when my life changed forever. I started getting so heavily into drugs that I started getting very depressed. My relationships weren’t always the greatest and I would always pull away. I broke hearts. I lived my life in chaos. I had lost jobs over the years. I always felt alone and that no one could help me.

I’m 26 years old now. There was one person that always made me feel like I was alive and that was my high school sweetheart. I knew I loved her more than anything in the world but I turned her world upside down. I never could forgive myself for that along with many other things. I was a broken soul that needed lots of help and on October 15th, 2010, I did the scariest thing you could imagine. I overdosed on pills. These pills were all half bottles of hydrocodone, flexeril, and paxil. I had cocaine and beer in my system, too. I wanted to die so bad and, well, I did.

My mom said God told her to go upstairs and she found me with a note, passed out slowly dying. I had burned my face with a cigarette. I’d left a letter telling my mom I would never fit in and that I had identity issues for a long time. Well my mom called the ambulance were she works and they rushed me to the hospital. That’s when everyone in my family waited to hear my fate. Well my mother had shouted at the top of her lungs saying we need a miracle and told the doctors that they needed one that time, then the doctors said they were loosing me. My mom called the pastor of the church I was born in, Mike Servello, and his wife Barb Servello of Redeemer Church, and they all prayed for me in the church. Then my aunts in New York City put my name across the radio for prayer and I had woken up the next day. I was in a coma for a long time. When I woke up, I looked at my mom and her friend that kept my mother company the whole time and I asked, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” They nearly passed out.

I was in Rochester Strong Memorial Hospital in the ICU. They brought me to the part of the hospital where I could get a new liver. My liver completely failed on me, but I never had to get a new one because I was healed. I was there for a month. I had to learn how to walk all over again and it was about three weeks before I could get my energy back because I was so weak. The doctors that worked with me explained I had a disorder called Bi-polar and major depression. I never knew I had this all these years. I knew I was depressed my whole life but couldn’t figure out why. Well from there I left to another hospital called MVPC in Utica, New York. I was there for 6 months and it was the hardest thing I ever went through in my whole life. I did everything I was told to do. And that kept me from staying there any longer. I told my doctor that I would do whatever it takes to get my life back together and when I told him that he was surprised because he never knew what I meant that day. Well he diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Anxiety. Well after knowing about my disorders and learning about them, I challenged myself to stay focused on getting out and becoming clean and I went straight to McPike Rehab center.

I only left the hospital about 4 times out on pass because I had wanted to recover and do it without any distractions. Going to rehab was fun. I ended there I wanted to go to this place called Conaford Park, another rehab place were they had a buffet and a pool. I really wanted to go and got my hopes up, but then was told I was going to McPike. When I was there I was a little afraid but knew if I could go through two other hospitals and do this, it’s worth it. And my counselor loved me there. A lot of people liked me even in the hospitals. I was always worried what people would think about me and now I’m a lot stronger than I was before. This place was a great place for my recovery. I was so proud of myself when I got my medallion with the Serenity Prayer on it. I carry it everywhere I go.

When I talked and gave my speech, I thought of what my mom always says. “No matter what any of you do or what you have gone through, everyone deserves a second chance.” And she was right. I was given back my life and I’m here today to share my story, and my journey and what I had to do to get here. I did it all on my own and I am ten months sober today. October 16th will be one year for me. I’m going the long way and staying happier with my medications, great friends to talk to when I need help and a loving church that supports me. My life is totally changed and I’ll never be the same person again. Now you can catch me volunteering in church  or doing some kind of benefit walk, plus my favorite hobby Zumba salsa dancing. I have a large support network and I know what to do when I need help. You see, I spent my whole entire life suicidal always afraid to tell my mother and we share such a bond now that I have been very blessed and fortunate. My father died on December 21, 2007, and my grandfather died just four days later. It was a very hard year for my family so even with that I kept all my feelings inside about how I felt about it. I never got the closure I wanted because the burial was done without us and I always blamed myself but it was never my fault. I say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and I learned a lot of lessons out of this to just talk about it. You don’t have to fit in to be popular and i am unique for a reason. We all have a plan and purpose and I’m just glad I’m able to help others and reach out to them especially because I know how it feels to not have anyone to go to. This is my story and I consider myself a miracle, more than just a hero. Now my life is starting its new chapter of happiness.

-(Share your story with us!)

by Nikki Olsen

I once read that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is when SHE brushes up against me and puts her arms around me.

And there are no words for that.

When I was approximately 14 years of age my mother and step-father took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant. I was in the middle of a bite of deliciousness when my Mom softly whispers, “We believe you are having homosexual tendencies.”

I spit out my food and stared at the two of them. She may as well have been on stage with a microphone and holding a huge spotlight on me. It felt like the entire restaurant came to a halt and all eyes were on me. In my mind you could have heard a pin drop in that establishment. “We know you have been kissing girls,” is what I heard, “and you are going to hell.”

“Umm…well…uh, I think you are wrong! NO” is what I believe I said while viciously shaking my head back and forth.

The 14 years of knowledge I had was far vaster than these two whose combined age was around 88. The reason they took me to the restaurant was because I would run like hell from anything uncomfortable. Literally, out the front door and down the street not to be seen for hours was my method of operating. I suppose this is still my modus operandi but at least I am aware of it now. Simply because he was a social worker and she worked with emotionally challenged individuals, what the hell did they know? Who cares if I had a girlfriend and the majority of my friends were all gay? These two were just plain stupid. I was not going to be one of those homosexual people made fun of. I was not going to be referred as a “dyke, lesbo, lezzy, queer, carpet muncher, fruitcake” and my favorite “crack snacker.” Of course I could pull a “Vagina Monologue” here and make a list for days but you get the idea. It’s not that I wasn’t gay; I just didn’t want to be.

I fought it, lied, made myself miserable and acted out in the face of all of the love and support most people long for from family and friends. Somehow, despite the understanding and acceptance I had, I was determined it was wrong. I was a latent homosexual I guess. I suppressed and repressed on a conscious level. At the age of 24 is when I finally accepted myself after numerous relationships.

I didn’t drape myself in a rainbow flag and run through the streets screaming, “I am here, I am queer and I am here to stay.” I simply stopped lying to others and more importantly, myself.

And now, 17 years later I am completely out and it is the best feeling. I can’t begin to tell you how fortunate I am to have the love, support and acceptance that I do have now. In closing I would like people to ponder something: What if a gay person did not have sex? Would they still be gay?

The answer is yes. I can assure you one thing: If I could get the same mushy, weak in the knees, passion throughout my soul with a man I would. It has never happened. It’s the same feeling anyone gets when love enters your being, mine just happens to be with the same sex. It is not a choice. I am not going to be someone else or not love simply because hate exists out there in this world.

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by Layne Box

Growing up, my mom and I spent lots of time in the car, traveling to see family. We tended to move a lot and our family was always hours and hours away. So this was our time to talk and catch up with each other. So naturally, when I was being picked on about being gay, we talked about it. This started at an early age and I always denied it. But the talk with mom was always, “You know if you are gay, I would love you anyway.” My response of course was “I AM NOT GAY!!” That would end the conversation and then we would move on to something else.

Years later when I finally came out to my friends and began dating men, I thought it was time to tell mom. So again, on a trip to see family I started out with, “Mom I have some bad news.” Concerned, she asked what, and I began to tell her about how I was in a car accident and I left the scene and that the other person was injured pretty bad. I went on about how I was being sued and it wasn’t looking good. Naturally my mom was upset and concerned, but was totally supportive and wanted to help no matter what. Finally when I had her totally engulfed, and pretty emotional, I looked at her and said, “Mom, I am just kidding, I am gay.” That is when she slapped me and asked why I would do that? My response was, “Well I figured if you could love me when I almost killed someone, being gay couldn’t be that bad.”

She stopped the car and said, “Like I said before, I love you no matter what.”

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by Michael Pickett

Like most gays and lesbians, I knew from an early age that I liked boys. I remember playing house with my siblings and our friends and I would volunteer to be a wife (as we always had more boys than girls) and have a husband. Usually it was one of my brother’s best friends and the boy I had my first crush on.

As we got older though and the ideas of right and wrong, good and evil entered into the mix I started to deny being gay. Both of my parents were involved in the ministry and my mother could always be heard saying anti-gay remarks and comments. My mom was one of my closest confidants as she was always with me when I had to be in the hospital, which was a lot up until I was 16 or 17, though as much as she was a confidant she was my warden. People and TV programs or channels were banned from being played in our house because she thought they pandered or catered to deviant/unholy lifestyles. My mom made my home a prison.

This home life made me start to think that god hated me. I thought and believed from my mother and church that being gay was a perversion of evil. Being evil meant I could not be good and thus would not go to heaven. I hated myself in high school. I was always depressed and sad. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone when I was younger so I started portraying a happy and optimistic persona to get me through the day at school, work or home.

It wasn’t until I moved away to university that I realized there were other opinions and other choices of belief. I loved my university life, but my family was still too close to me. My older brother went to the same university and in my second year my sister did as well. I thought I had to come out and I tried in my third year at university over the winter holidays to my mom and my sister. That ended terribly and made me regret what I had done. I was told my dad would have a heart attack if he found out, I was destined to go to hell and never see my family when I died and that everyone would be so devastated when they found out.

I couldn’t hide who I was anymore and believed my family wouldn’t accept me, so when I returned to university I ran. I moved to a city my family would never have a reason to visit unless they were coming to see me. I hid. For 5 years I had very limited conversation with my family. For 5 years my mother and my sister had time to accept that I was gay and reach out to me, they didn’t. They convinced themselves that I was mistaken and was actually straight. The few times I did see them I know I perpetuated this straight life.

I believed this would be my life until I met my fiancé.

He and his open and accepting family made me want that. It made me want to have that with my own family. Within that first year of my relationship I had to attend my sister’s wedding. I had physically and mentally changed. I was more outgoing, more open and more resilient to my mother’s comments than I was before. Soon after I returned home to my fiancé–my boyfriend at the time–I received the call.

The call was where my parents in a roundabout way asked if I was gay. I said yes. The phone was dead for what seemed like forever. At the age of 27 I came out to my parents. For one year my mother would not have a conversation with me. My dad made an effort to call me once a week. This was the beginning of a relationship I never really felt I had growing up. My father who was not one of my confidants now is and my mom who had been there for me for years no longer is. I’m okay with that though as that is her choice. Not mine.

It’s a strange twist on my reality, but one that I am happy with. My siblings are coming around after almost 6 years now and me being gay is no longer a family topic. Well, not one they discuss with me because they know in no uncertain terms this is who I am. It took me years to come out. But coming out to my family was the hardest and the best thing. I know being gay we make our own “family” but if your family can be a part of that inclusive family you feel a joy you can’t properly express. I hope one day my family will be.

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