“This above all,—to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
It was my junior year of high school, and I had caught the inevitable coronavirus. Once I processed the dark, red line of the viral test, I immediately became isolated from my family and friends. Knowing that the next few days would be challenging brought me little hope. However, in retrospect, the days when I was quarantined ushered in a life-changing journey.
When I was isolated, it seemed as if my entire world stopped. I had many days to sit, read and think—to be in the moment and reflect. As a well-rounded, hard-working student, I had never focused on relationships. Rather, I viewed them as contrary to my goals in life.
It was not until I was quarantined that I realized that I did not want to live alone. This realization meant that I had to face my buried truth: I liked boys, which wasn’t an easy truth to accept. I asked myself, “What will my family think of me? Can I still be Catholic? What will my friends think of me? Will I be bullied at my all-boys high school? Why do I have to be like this?”
As I processed this dilemma, I reacted with deep levels of rejection, denial and anger. I wanted to reject it because it would make my life significantly more difficult. I was in denial because it would rip me from the path I was used to my entire life. And I was angry, not because I hated the idea, but because I knew that I would have to eventually accept it.
Over the next few days, I tried my best to ignore my realization—to suppress it and hope that it would disappear. Unsurprisingly, it became more unbearable to ignore and I knew I had to get help.
I took this opportunity to realize that God wanted me alive—he wanted me to express his gifts by loving myself as I love others.
I texted one of my close friends for help. I trusted him with my situation and he gave me advice that resonated with me then and even today. He said, “If it’s something that so closely deals with something that is important to you, it’s a prevalent issue that needs to be addressed and the complications it could bring should not be nearly as bad as existing with what you would live with by ignoring it.”
Like that, the ice was broken and I became a little more accepting of my truth—but there was still a long and painful journey ahead.
Rediscovering hope
For many students, the first few days of summer vacation signify relief and happiness. Whether it is barbecues or endless nights of watching movies, summer brings freedom. For me, the first few days of summer were depressing.
I struggled to be away from the routine that I had valued so much. I struggled not being in the social environment of my school, and, exacerbating things, I was gay, though I had feared how much change acknowledging it would bring.
As I ruminated, I reached a breaking point. It was during one evening when I tried to gain control of my life and end it. I wanted to wish all of my problems away. As sadness and grief filled my heart, I quickly ran to my cell phone and dialed 911. Crying in my parent’s arms, I felt that comfort would soon arrive.
I prayed and hoped that this would become my rock bottom. Shortly after, my local police department took me to a mental health hospital. It was in these tense moments did I heavily rely on my faith and placed my trust in God.
Throughout my 72-hour hold, I prayed and begged for God’s help. I recall one morning when after I climbed out of bed, I slowly walked to the cold, barred window and prayed to myself. I stared into the clear blue skies, and I saw my soul alive. I saw hope and love; I saw peace and confidence; I saw optimism and the future. In reality, I was simply looking at my reflection.
My faith allowed me to believe that no matter how others perceive me, deep down in my heart will forever be an anchor of love rooted in the love of God.
I took this opportunity to realize that God wanted me alive—he wanted me to express his gifts by loving myself as I love others.
After I was discharged, I returned to a loving and caring network of family, friends and mentors, and a plan to pursue intensive mental-health therapy. Once I returned to school, I opened up to many of my close teachers. In particular, someone I trusted the most: my Catholic theology teacher. He was someone that provided me with a religious and philosophical perspective on my struggles, allowing me to gain clarity on my journey.
Among all our conversations, I vividly remember one where he described a gay couple that deeply cared for each other, contributed great works to their community and spread love to everyone they met. He then asked me, “Do you think God would look down upon them, or reward them for being genuine human beings?” That story was one of many that brought me closer to my faith in accepting myself.
My faith allowed me to believe that no matter how others perceive me, deep down in my heart will forever be an anchor of love rooted in the love of God.
The journey as the lesson
As I approach my high school graduation and entering college, I know that my journey will be far from over, and I know that my struggles will only continue, but it is in this experience that I can answer the most meaningful questions in life and that I now have the courage to fight with God’s help.
This chapter has been ingrained in my identity, it has strengthened my faith in God and the Catholic Church and has given me the ability to listen to my heart. Through this journey, I learned the importance of trust and faith.
Trust the process. These three words got me through most of my coming out experience. I have often searched for the answers to all of my problems—the key to every locked door—but I was often disappointed to find that not every problem, every dilemma has an answer. I questioned my sexuality multiple times and wished so badly that I was a straight, heterosexual male. I believed that I could resolve all of my problems.
But I quickly found that it only exacerbated my mental health; it degraded my sense of worth and my relationship with myself. I was constantly at a crossroads, and hidden deep inside my moral compass was the truth—and I tried my best to ignore it.
Faith was the vehicle I took to trust the process. I knew that God would be by my side, in the darkest trials and the happiest moments.
My coming out journey brought much hardship to a critical relationship with myself. But I learned that journeys are meant to be challenging, and we can find opportunities for growth in each of them. With every hardship comes the ability to strengthen ourselves. Although that sounds like a cliché, I realized that accepting myself—my truth—was the best gift that I could have ever given myself.
Faith has gotten me through times of great challenge and I have leaned on faith as my moral compass. Faith was the vehicle I took to trust the process. I knew that God would be by my side, in both the darkest trials and the happiest moments. Attending high school at a Catholic private school meant that religion became even more integral to my daily life.
To those who are experiencing coming out or preparing to accept themselves, I want you to know that there is light and hope at the end of it all. Each of us has the power and gift to keep the faith, leaning on God as our beacon of hope, light and love.
Christian, You had a priest say this to you: Among all our conversations, I vividly remember one where he described a gay couple that deeply cared for each other, contributed great works to their community and spread love to everyone they met. He then asked me, “Do you think God would look down upon them, or reward them for being genuine human beings?” That story was one of many that brought me closer to my faith in accepting myself.
My question to you is this: Can this gay couple, who are Christ-like, be in full communion with the Church with Church’s explicit description of gay being “disordered”?