One Year Out of the Closet: Learning to Love Myself Is the Hardest Thing I've Ever Had to Do

I used to believe I was a burden on my family. My therapist says it was because I internalized other people's pain. I blame God.

I went to Sunday school every week when I was young, and it was there I learned about what it meant to be "good." For a young black boy who attended mostly-white schools, I was rewarded for being quiet, hard-working, and obedient. If I stepped a toe out of line, there were consequences. At school, it was bullying. At home, it was my father's leather belt. In my bedroom, it was me.

I don't quite remember when I equated gay with sin, but I became quieter once I did.

It took years of hard work to become invisible. I practiced every day until it became habit. Any behavior my friends or family or teachers didn't like, I'd correct. No one wanted to see my anger or sadness, so I shut those feelings off. In a family that wore their emotions on their sleeves, I'd neatly tucked mine away under a minefield. Smile, Taylor! People like you when you smile!

I didn't cry between the ages of 13 and 21. Eight years of tears drenched my pillow the night I kissed a boy for the first time.

When I came out to my mom at 22, I couldn't tell if she was more upset that the world would treat me differently or that I hadn't been honest with her. "It's like I have no idea who you are," she whispered over the phone.

"I'm still the same person, Mommy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm just so tired of being ashamed. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

I remember wondering if shame was hereditary, and if God loved me, why would he want me to be unhappy?

On June 12th, 2016 a man walked into a gay bar full of latinx and black queers and opened fire, killing 49 people. I couldn't get out of bed for an entire day. Moments before he was killed in cold blood, Eddie Justice texted his mom "I’m gonna die" as he hid in a bathroom stall. I called mine sobbing.

If I learned anything from the first 21 years of my life, it's that grief can't be destroyed, only hidden. And I was so damn tired of hiding.

I publically came out on July 12th, 2016 and I've never felt so free. Years of shame lifted in seconds. Coming out didn't instantly solve all of my problems, but it allowed me to explore sides of myself I didn't even know I'd buried. It felt like a new beginning, one where I could not only love who I wanted freely, but also learn to love myself for who I really was.

I was quiet no longer.

So what have I learned in the year since I've come out? If I could go back in time and talk to 13-year-old me, I'd say:

1. Fear is a control tactic. I spent my teenage years in a self-induced chokehold. I was quiet and reserved, not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I was terrified to. Don't allow fear to control you.

2. Your feelings are valid and important. Do not make yourself smaller for other people's benefit. You're only hurting yourself, and aren't allowing other people to get to know how awesome you are.

3. Emotions are mini-miracles. It's part of what makes us human and is nothing to be ashamed of. Living life as a numb zombie is not only unhealthy but really boring.

4. Therapy is awesome. It's like learning the history of you. Pushing yourself to learn and grow from your past is one of the most important things you can do in life.

5. It's okay to be exactly who you are. I'm still learning to share all parts of myself with my loved ones; the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. If someone doesn't love every part of you, they aren't worth your time.

6. Learning to love yourself is one of the biggest obstacles you'll face. It's an ongoing process, but once you do, you won't be able to hide your pride.

we GET IT you're GAY A post shared by Taylor Henderson (@cornbreadsays) on Jun 11, 2017 at 7:29pm PDT

Taylor Henderson is a staff writer at PRIDE. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram.