My gay story
You know what? Fuck the bulimia, fuck the OCD, the anorexia, the depression, the sadness, the pain!
One thing that always have been there, the one thing that I can’t “cure” is my sexuality.
This may sound rough, but let me explain.
Like some of you probably know, I was raised in a Muslim family, so ever since I was a child, homosexuality has been a sin, has been disgusting, wrong! This is the view that I was raised with.
I probably always knew, I must have! However I always knew that I couldn’t be true to myself. That I couldn’t be a gay guy. That just wasn’t an option.
So I told myself to hide it, to make it unreal, to act straight, to act like someone else than myself.
My society’s view on homosexuality wasn’t great either, it was disgusting, it was something bad, it was something to make fun off. God how I was scared! My entire childhood I was scared that anyone would find out.
When people would talk about gay stuff I felt insecure, I was thinking “do they know?”, I never talked about gays, never talk to gays, I didn’t wanna draw anymore attention to that area.
If people would ask me, I would lie. I would lie about finding women attractive, and I would even lie to myself. I wouldn’t admit what I deep down under knew was true.
And honestly this is the hardest thing I been through, and I been through a lot, not staying true to yourself is damn hard, especially when it isn’t accepted.
When I got to a age where you definitely are aware of who you are attracted to, I started to sense the true. I tried and tried, almost forced myself to like women, forced myself to speak with a deeper voice, forced myself to be a “man”(I was also raised with really strict gender roles, so you get the picture).
And at this time I was soooo fat! Like really fat! I didn’t had that many friends and my life pretty much just sucked. This was the first time I felt suicidal.
Life got on and I definitely knew that I was finding men attracted, this was combined with so much guilt and shame, I was so ashamed of myself.
I lost a ton of weight and was later diagnosed with anorexia. So now I was skinny, feeling fat, and a gay in pretend. This was the second time in my life I felt suicidal.
High school, a new chance to play the role I was raised to play. Straight. And it worked the first year. I almost convinced myself that I was straight.
At this time in my life my family was really messy, I was later diagnosed with bulimia and OCD. Hell.
I talked about girls and even fell in love with one girl, which I truly loved. But deep down under I knew the true.
People still suspected me of being gay. People were so curious, in a bad way. But I kept my acting strong. Lying, lying and more lying.
When I was 16 I realized that this lie needed to stop, at least the lying towards myself, but I felt guilty as hell. I saw people around finding love, and I felt so terrible alone! Felt like I was the only gay guy in the entire world. Until I met Marius. A guy my age, handsome, musician, painter, I don’t think my heart had even beaten that way before. I was in love, at least I thought I was. I kept it a secret and so did he. I found someone like me, I told someone my deepest secret.
Unfortunately that guy was a jerk, and out of the blue he was gone forever, without a word. I was devastated, hurt, sad.
I kept lying, felt the pain in silence while my eating disorder got much worse.
Then I started writing with some guys, one of them was a bit serious, but he wasn’t Marius. I felt so neglected of him, like I’m still here, why don’t you see that?
The next serious thing I had was a Swedish guy called Kjell, he was 7 years older than me, lived in my city, studied medicine, was handsome as hell, and so fascinating, I felt something.
Then he pulled the same number as Marius, and I never saw him again. At this time in my life my mental health had gotten that bad, that I was admitted to the mental hospital. I was broken.
This was the first time I came out to a person that wasn’t gay. My therapist.
She taught me that I shouldn’t feel guilty, that I shouldn’t feel ashamed, and that I couldn’t change this.
I told one of my friends F, in tears, and I felt so relieved, like I could finally be myself. But I kept the act for everyone else.
Then I told one of my best friends Naya, she said to me that she loved me no matter what, I felt more relieved.
Then I started dating a guy called Sasa or Mr, as I called him. And I felt something again. At this time I told twi of my other friends. Felt more relieved.
He hurt me a lot this guy, telling me I was fat, telling me that I was ugly, had pimples, that I wasn’t good enough for him. And I actually never said this to anyone, but after we had had sex, he started to get weird, like he didn’t do anything, but he kept teeling me, that if I didn’t watched out he probably would rape me. I dumped him. And I regretted it so much!! Sometimes I still do. But it was for the best.
My mental health was out of control at this point, but at least I could finally talk to my friends about the pain I felt.
After a while I started dating again, and at one point I went to a guy that was 10 years older than me, and let him dryhump me just to get some acceptance.
I told my best friend Theresa, which also is the girl that I had been in love with. And that was one of the hardest things I ever did!!! But she accepted me. After a while I told my big sister and that was the best!!! One in my family that I could actually be myself with. One I could trust.
Then I dated a lot, and still kept my act up for everyone else. Then I got into a fight with F, the first girl I ever told. And that bitch outed me to everyone!! Of course not my family but everyone else, and I didn’t knew until the last few weeks of high school. I never been this humiliated before!!
But at least now the act was over. I was honest to everyone who asked me(again except my family), and I didn’t care what they thought, the people who I was afraid to loose had accepted me, so nothing else mattered. It was the best feeling in the world. But I still felt ashamed and I still felt guilty and I still do at this point in my life.
Then the recent event happened. My big brother found out. And he is literally one of the biggest psychopathic homofobs that I know. I died!!! He yelled are you gay, gay, gay???
The third time in my life that I have been suicidal. But I made up a cover story and lied about having a girlfriend, and all of a sudden everything was back to scratch, now I need to hide again. Be in pretend. At least for now.
And that fucking sucks. Hate my family, and I know I absolutely know that they will never accept me.
And this is why my biggest burden is my sexuality.
But at least I’m honest to myself. I accept myself, and that is honestly the most important thing.
Hopefully the real R will be free sooner or later, because I can’t stand this pretend.