As an innocent little boy, imagination was my favorite drink. As a traumatized adult, alcohol became my favorite escape.

My world had begun to spin in the opposite direction as I laid on my back naked. At first I felt fearful and alone. He called the game “bf & gf,” and said his cousins played it all the time in the attic of his grandparents’ house. Somehow I found this comforting. At the age of 5, I experienced something of joy or lust, an emotion that I had yet been given the mental capacity to comprehend. From this moment forward my sexuality was in question.

Manipulation came next. He would tell me, “If you won’t play our game we can’t be friends.” Eventually our parents wouldn’t let us play together. I would ask and blame myself, “What did I do wrong? What is wrong with me?”

Throughout puberty, the least favorite part of my day was having to change in the same locker room with him after practice. Taking showers in isolation out of fear having to confront my inner confusion.

After basketball practice, my brother and his friends would smoke. Seeing their laughter and careless matter to their surroundings, I just wanted to end my daily internal battles and become numb to the world like them.

My mother would greet me with the same question and smile every day after school, “Hi honey, how was your day?” I wish I had had the courage to tell her the truth. My story today would likely be very different but yet still similar to yours. I had a promising bright future ahead of me but in that moment I couldn’t accept my true self and walked blindly down a path which lead to self-destruction. Genetically I was doomed.

Experimentation with substances came next. With them, I no longer felt a need to hide behind the masks I had painted. Under the influence I believed I could be perceived as the brother, the son, the person society wanted me to be. I could join in on the name calling and degradation of others beliefs. I had found a way to consistently escape my true self by seeking solitude in chemicals. If only I could have fast forwarded the tape to see what would end in death and resurrection. Twice.

Overtime the chemicals had carved a lonely void deep within and I would need to seek a power outside of myself in order to find salvation and acceptance.

Scrolling through social media I had recognized a familiar name from high school and clicked add. Unbeknownst to me, this person would provide me with hope and new direction. He gave me light during a dark period of my life and I’ll be forever grateful. I wouldn’t be writing this story today without his unconditional understanding.

Coming out shouldn’t be defined as acceptance of one’s true self.

Coming out is scary and children shouldn’t be scared of who they were born to be.

Coming out takes courage and is an act of self-preservation and self-love.

Coming out of the womb should be the only human experience of coming out.

Today...

I’m out. I’m gay. I’m free.

Here I am. Love me. I Love me.

Finding me was my journey.

Preface

Nothing is ever as it seems, but in the end it all will make sense. This statement is one I try to remember each and every day. So far my life (27 years young) has been filled with great happiness and some sadness.

Someone once told me, “Everything will be okay, I promise!” and regardless of what he was, who he was, or how he treated me, I would have to agree with him. There are things in our lives that seem like they never will get better. Events we think we will never overcome or, that we'll never believe in ourselves again. People who are always willing to put you down at any given moment in life. People we try to steer away from, but always seem to find their way back into our lives to put us down. These things, I promise you, will get better. They will make you stronger. They will help you grow into a better human being. But most of all, these things will make you learn how to love yourself again.

My story, along with others, is unique but different in the same light. To give you context around mine, here is a little about me growing into my own.

I was raised by a hard working blue collar family in a factory city in Wisconsin; Father a factory worker since graduating high school and mother with her associates degree working in an eye doctors office. I was fortunate enough to be raised by both parents, who are still married and by far the cutest couple (bias, I know). I grew up eating, breathing and sleeping sports but my passion was in soccer. My parents did everything they could to raise money for me to go to the Milwaukee Wave soccer camp every year. If you grew up in the 1990s in Wisconsin, you will know how cool it was to meet these great soccer players at the age of 8. If I wasn’t playing soccer, my family was traveling to northern Wisconsin where we would go boating, tubing, fishing, and roast marshmallows over the campfire. It was around the age of 12 I started to realize I was different than all the other kids. But growing up Christian, I knew from church it wasn’t okay to be gay or have these feelings.

But amidst these happy times came some gloom. When I was in the first grade I was sexually assaulted, and this would forever change the dynamic of my life and the way I thought of myself.

Throughout my middle school days, I was the kid who loved Student Council and leadership camps. The one who was always afraid of showing up late to class and disappointing my parents, teachers, and family members. To me, I was your normal Wisconsin kid. One who tried their hardest in school, played sports, and loved hunting, fishing, and being in the woods. You could say I grew up in the “masc” world. I looked up to men who were kind, hard-working, chivalrous, and overall fun to be around. These handful of men have molded a part of me and who I aspired to be when I grew up. However, these men are entitled to their own opinion, and in that, there was some chauvinistic rhetoric that came along. Hearing this hatred of a fellow human, where I have secretly placed myself in the gay category since I was 12, was hard to swallow. How could someone who is so kind and helpful be so hateful? Instead of growing farther apart from these men, I grew closer to them in the hopes if I act like them, these feelings of being gay would dissipate or go away. Rather I had more questions than ever. Why was it okay for two women to kiss but not two men? Why would God create someone who he didn’t love? Why would we treat one act of sin different from the others?

After middle school, high school was a bigger challenge. High school is a place where adolescents are finding themselves but sometimes at the expense of others. Yes, I’ve been bullied, been an outcast, hazed because others thought of me to be different or gay. But thinking back it wasn’t all too bad. It may sound bad, but like I mentioned before,

“Everything will be okay, I promise."

For me, I found my safety in work. Whether it be with my job outside of school, managing the school store, competing in business clubs, or spending time with my family at the cabin, my family and friends were very proud of what I have done but there was always a missing piece. I knew what this missing piece was, but I couldn’t come to terms with what it was. I wasn’t gay, I liked doing “masculine” things like hunting, fishing, and playing sports – stereotypically straight activities. I volunteered at church, went on service projects to help rebuild homes for the less fortunate, didn’t have anyone in my family that was gay. This couldn’t be me – or was it? Was something wrong with me? Was it because of the sexual abuse when I was younger…Yes, that had to be it. It was the only thing at the time to explain these feelings I was having. Again, I pushed these feelings deep down and worked through the “confusion”.

High school passed with a few girlfriends – that all ended a few months after they started. Then came college.

For some, college is a time for exploration and self-identification. The first two years, I continued to trap myself into thinking I wasn’t gay. Once I was a junior, I started to live a double life for the next three years. I was coming to realize who I was and started to live that way… but behind closed doors. It wasn’t until I hit a mental breaking point due to a secret fling that became mentally abusive that I decided I didn’t care what others thought and I came out for the first time to my best friend from college. Which brings me to my first short story.

1. Coming out for the first time – Brandon

The funny part of how I came out was how it came about. At the time, I was living in Madison and my best friend from college was in Milwaukee. On a Saturday night, I had set up a Tinder date with a female in Milwaukee, which as you can imagine didn’t work out. It was after dinner and I texted my buddy and told him I was in town. It is important to note he is gay as well. He told me to stop on over as he was at his friend's aunt's place for a dinner party. I walked over and he introduced me to his friend and we chatted over a few bottles of wine. It was getting late and both wanted to get to bed, but something weird was happening. Not sure if it was the failed Tinder date, the bottle of wine, or just me sick of keeping this secret. I told him we should grab a drink and catch up. He agreed and off we went to the nearest bar in the third ward. Palms sweaty, heart pounding and the fear of rejection – though in retrospect he was gay, too. Why would he reject me or not be happy for me? We sat down at a table not far off from the bar. It was loud, and the wine was hitting us both hard, but the conversation went something like this:

Me: “So, I have something I want to tell you?”
Him: “Okay… like?”
Me: “Well, it is kinda hard for me to say it so I guess it’s easier to show you.”
Him: “LOL Okay.”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up a picture of my crush, still to this day, Ben Cohen. And just to clarify, the rugby player, not the businessman – just in case you Google him. Again, in retrospect, I don’t know why I thought showing a picture would be easier compared to texting it or whispering it.

With the picture of Ben on my phone, I slid it across the table while half covering it up thinking someone behind me would see a professional photo of Ben and assume I’m gay… But I was about to tell my best friend just that: “I’m gay."

Him: “Whaaa, really? You’re gay… OMG this is awesome. Wait, have you told anyone else?”
Me: “No, you’re the first person I told.”

In an instant, I could feel the weight lift off my shoulders. The fact I told only one person and I wasn’t rejected or cursed at felt amazing. All my worst fears were all for naught. It felt better than a brand new pair of socks, ice cream on a hot day, or winning $200 on a scratch off.

Him: “Wow, well I’m truly honored and happy you felt comfortable to tell me. Wait, have you ever been to a gay bar?
Me: “Yes, but not with friends.”
Him: “Okay, we are leaving and going to one right now.”

As we sat at the bar catching up and reliving our college days I couldn’t help but think,
even though this gay bar wasn’t packed with people, it was packed with acceptance and I was with my best friend who loved me inside and out.

From the time of this posting, it has been 4,278 days since I came out. 11 years, 8 months, 19 days.

This day forever changed my life, it was the first time I ever told anyone that I was, and still very much am, gay. I remember it clearly and it was not the most ideal setting. I was a freshmen in high school and I had been talking with a really good friend on MSN instant messenger. The conversation was silly, but it went something like this:

Me: Hey, I have something I have been meaning to tell you. Promise you won't tell anyone?

Her: What's up?

Me: I have a secret

Her: Ok, what is it?

Me: Do you know that thing, the thing that everyone always says about me?

Her: No

Me: Yes you do, everyone always talks about it

Her: I know that you're a nice guy.

Me: No, hah, everyone calls me the gay kid, and I am.

I did it, I told someone. My heart was racing. I was sitting in the basement of my parents house on a really old computer we had setup to play video games on. For one reason or another, I had not been playing the Playstation. I just came out to a girl I went to high school with, we were just freshmen. We ended the conversation and I signed off of MSN, but not before sending myself the entire chat log to my old "hotmail.com" address.

The next day at school, I was sure that everyone knew my secret. There was no way that word traveled that fast in our small little town, there is no way my best friend at the time would tell everyone. Would she?

Fast forward to one random day and I was sent home with a grade mid quarter sheet. I was getting a C- in freshmen algebra. The moment I got home I had to show my mom so she could sign it and acknowledge she saw the report. Needless to say, she was not happy at all. I was told to sit at the dining room table and begin working on my algebra homework, this grade was not acceptable. My heart began to race, my palms were sweaty and my leg was shaking. Mom was furious about my grade but she was in the kitchen making dinner while dad was outside doing some yard work. It was the fall and leaves were all over our yard, I was supposed to be doing the yard work but my algebra got me out of the manual labor. Mom came over by me, still upset over my grade, and scolding me for the grade.

It slipped, it came up like word vomit.

Me: Mom, do you know Uncle Steve?

Mom: What about him!?

Me: I'm just like him.

Mom: What do you mean?

Me: I am just like Uncle Steve... I'm gay.

Mom: -silence and long pause- You think you're gay?

Me: I am gay.

Mom: Stay here, I'm going to get your father

It was a nightmare. My mom went to get my father and the three of us sat at the dining room table and discussed what had just come out of my mouth. My mom kept saying that I thought I was gay. She didn't understand how I was gay, even though I told her that "being a guy, our outward anatomy responds and it becomes very apparent what we're attracted to." This didn't go over very well. After talking about it for what seemed like hours, I was sent to my room. I didn't eat dinner, neither did mom.

The next day, Dad drove me to school. We rode in silence, it was awkward and I was afraid for what life was going to be like from this point forward. Before I got out of the car I remember what my Dad said to me, "your mother and I love you very much, Daniel."

I walked into school and passed a group of friends. They could tell something was wrong, I was pale and had the look of shock on my face. I didn't talk to them and walked away to sit in silence in the hallway.

Days passed and I don't recall eating. I know for a fact I lost 10lbs. Finally my mom started to talk to me. She told me that I had to tell my family the news, but before I could even tell them, she had already prepped them telling them that I "thought" I was gay. My brothers didn't say much, my sister told me "It's about damn time."

Whenever I think about my coming out story, I remember it being very traumatic. I lived in a small town, I had always been harassed and bullied for being the gay kid. Looking back on the experience and knowing what I know now, life was so much better once I came out. My mom was shocked, I dropped a huge bombshell on her. In her defense, she was only worried about my well-being. Her brother Steve, who I referred to earlier, died from AIDS. My mothers fear stemmed from the experience she had with her brother, a fear of losing another loved one to a horrible disease.

As time would go on, and the shock faded away, my mom became one of my biggest supporters and one of my favorite people. Now that I'm an adult, my mom and I have a really great relationship and I'm very open with her. At the time of coming out, 15 year old Daniel would have never imaged what 26 year old Daniel knows today.