I'm From Driftwood

(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 Chris Allen Mason

I grew into a young man in the upper/middle class suburb of Houston, Texas known as Clear Lake City. Home of NASA’s Johnson Space Center. My dad scored an amazing job with a NASA sub-contractor at the beginning of the Space Shuttle program so we re-located from Hershey, PA. I never really encountered much true hate living in PA. It was the 70′s, people were less afraid of each other, and my life as I remember it was pretty normal and stress free. Yeah there were bullies in the neighborhood that effed with me but nothing out of the elementary school norm for the time really. But even then I knew I wasn’t like the other guys in the hood.

Upon arriving in Texas, I was quickly introduced to racism. New concept for me. Apparently it was not cool to hang with guys like my friend Scott. Huh? Since I could remember two of my mother’s and father’s closest friends were an interracial couple as I recall, the Johnsons. It was a confusing concept. White folks can’t hang with “black” folks? Um, HUH? Well FML. So, I found myself agreeing to stay in with the kids. Any kids really. Today, I’d be like WAIT A MINUTE NOW. But back then I was like 10. WTF did I know?

So, the Masons settled in, got a house, and got on with our new lives in the South. By 6th grade I had already had my first sexual experience with another guy. It wasn’t until 8th grade that I lost my virginity with a girl. Even then I was totally cool liking both boys and girls. But it was not until high school that EVERYTHING changed. The signs were there long before 9th grade but I was not yet awake as a human being. Not awake enough to know who or what I thought I might actually be. High school in Clear Lake was a thing. A total thing. Parts are blurry, parts are crystal clear. There is tons I remember, tons I do not. Part of that may be because of previous drug use or just selective recall.

I actually started getting crap for being different in 7th grade. By 7th I had already pierced both ears, was bleaching my hair, and being 100% belligerent to anyone who questioned me. No big surprise that when 9th grade came around I fell into the “new romantic” and “punker” crowd. The PIBs. Where I met my first true gays. Well one true gay at first — the late and magnificent Greg Cherry.  He was fearless and flawless. I first met him at Boy Scout Camp the summer before I started high school. We immediately became friends and I was totally stoked to learn we would be in high school together. I really was in love with him from the get go. What a soul. No, that never happened between us. Not that kind of love. Not that I remember. But what Greg did fill me up with was inspiration. He inspired me to be true to myself no matter what. To explore. To discover. And to give anyone who disagreed with or disapproved of us the finger.

At our high school the bullies were widespread. Greg, myself, and all of our buds endured a crap ton of abuse and hate because we had decided to be ourselves. We were a pretty tight bunch for a while there. Even today I still speak to many of my old mates — Carol, Pat, Kim, Ingrid, Kris, Andrea, Michelle and others. Thank the gods for Facebook. Ya know, even the girls got sh*t. It came from both sides. Some just for being friends with “the fags” and others for just being themselves. My dear departed friend Greg had his face smashed in at one point. It was a HATE CRIME. He was beaten down because he was was out, and had no shame. He was so brave. I miss Greg. He was a soldier.

My suffering was never as severe as Greg’s, but it sucked regardless. The running, the hiding, the holding my breath because if they hear me they’ll beat the sh*t out of me (again). That crap got old. My crowd offered an easy escape from the feelings that this torture brought to my head. The cigarettes, drugs and alcohol were all way cool and fun but it was the music and nightclubs I was brought to that really made an impact on me. It was all about the dance floor. I felt completely safe there. For that one moment — high as a kite and dancing my ass off — I completely forgot about Clear Lake City and all of the bullsh*t our peers insisted we go through. About how when I walked through a crowd at school I was pushed, shoved, and called a faggot. Didn’t matter if we went to Numbers or one of the city’s many alternative lifestyle teen clubs  I loved to dance. I remember sneaking out of the house when my folks would head off to the symphony at sunset and returning at sun-up. But once Monday came around and I was back at Clear Lake High, it became all too real once again.

I remember running for my life. Being chased by guys in cars who wanted blood. I remember learning that when thrown at a 7-11 window by the quarterback, I bounce. Walking home from school was always a challenge too. I had to find creative ways to not be seen. I would walk down the bayou behind the school, cut through apartment complexes and people’s yards, and skirt along the edges of the golf course to get to my home. Yeah, it sucked. But I rapidly became awesome at sneaking off campus so cutting class became way easy and habit forming. Because even the staff at the school gave me sh*t. Some of the teachers and principles really had it out for me. Eventually, and in an honestly short amount of time in the bigger picture of things, I got fed up with being pushed around. I had been in rehab twice and the only thing it offered was an escape from my troubles on the streets. I had run away from home a few times too. Today I know what I was running from, back then nobody got it. Not even my shrinks. So, I dropped out of high school. And when I left Clear Lake City I pretty much never looked back. Time and distance became one. Eventually I lost contact with my crew. Made new friends. Found new troubles. I’ll never forget my last day of school. Ingrid was there. We got in trouble for PDA — because we hugged. Those fuckers just had to get the last word.

My point of this long-winded story is that I, like so many other GLBT youth, was bullied. Sometimes for just being different and other times for being who I was, a young bisexual man. Pushed into a corner, I made some rash choices and consider myself WAY LUCKY to be alive to tell the tale. I thought about suicide several times as well. To escape the pain I hid inside. Even tried it unsuccessfully later on in life. Good thing I f*cked that up. For a guy who never thought he’d ever see 30, he is loving his 40′s.

I feel for today’s GLBT youth. I think the pressure they are under in this time and age is much greater than what was going on the 80′s. As adults we think that gay, bisexual, and transgendered youth are more accepted by society today but by their peers it appears nothing has changed. Just because we are represented on TV and in marketing out in the open doesn’t mean folks still like us. More do, but still too many do not. My heart goes out to these kids. These kids brave enough to be who they are. It ain’t easy. I know. I also know that ending it all forever is not an option. These kids have to choose life — or the bullies win. They need to know they are not alone.

-(Share your story with us!)

(TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of rape, suicide, and homophobic violence)

by Taylor Parr

I’ve known I was gay since I was 7 years old when I could look at guys and think they were cute. I think I could have been bisexual, but girls have scared me ever since being raped by a middle school girl when I was 8. The problem with being gay for me was I lived in a predominantly Mormon society. My whole family was LDS and I felt as if I couldn’t say anything because anything I really wanted to say was against their beliefs.

One of my best friends, John, came out to me when he was 11 and when he came out to his parents they kicked him out of the house with nothing and he came to live with me. My parents didn’t know he was gay. One morning I walked in on him crying with a gun in his mouth. I was able to talk him out of it, but his finger slipped when he went to hand me the gun and he shot me in the hip. I found him hanging in the closet 3 weeks later.

I was so scared of this happening to me that I tried hard to be attracted to girls. I went out with several. I even almost bought a ring for a girl I’d been going out with for 2 years. When I came to college, acting “straight” became too much to bear and I finally came out to a select few of my friends who I knew would be okay with it.

At this point in my life I’d seen so many friends bullied, beaten, and a couple even died because of the hatred of everyone towards them. I was afraid to come all the way out. I’d never even kissed a guy yet. One day my friend from up north was coming down to visit and was followed by two of his coworkers. When he got here the two coworkers jumped him and started beating him because of his sexual orientation. He died from brain damage two weeks later in the hospital. This was the last straw for me. I finally came out, knowing that no matter what happened to me, I needed to be strong so that other people like me could have a shoulder to lean on.

Coming out to everyone had so many negative repercussions, such as my family shunning me for a while and losing several of my closest friends. I even got hate mail on my car and door. But I found that the good out-weighed the bad in my coming out of the closet. Even though I lost some of my friends, I found out who my true friends were and developed some of the closest friendships I’ve ever had in my life. I may have lost my family for a while, but they have been coming around and I don’t have to lie to them about my feelings. The biggest plus side to this is I’ve been able to have meaningful relationships with people that I could consider more than just friends.

Keep your head up and keep a smile on your face, because you are stronger than you know and people are watching.