"Growing up, I thought there was no such thing as a gay footballer … I thought being gay was the worst thing you could be."

Tall, sporty and charming, former Australian rules footballer and mental health advocate Jason Ball oozes confidence. But it's been a long road for Jason to feel comfortable in his identity.

Growing up in rural Victoria, the realisation he was gay terrified him. Fearful of judgment and rejection from his friends and teammates, Jason tells ABC Life he socially isolated himself by hiding his sexuality for years.

Eventually, Jason became the second male Australian rules footballer at any level to publicly come out in the national media.

Now, as an LGBTI advocate, former political candidate and Pride Cup co-founder, he's sharing his story to offer hope to other LGBTI Australians who are gaining the courage to come out.

Here's his story, in his own words.

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I socially isolated myself by hiding my sexuality.

It can restrict you from talking about a lot of things or being part of a group.

Ever revealed something about yourself that was difficult to share? What gave you the courage and what did you learn? We'd be honoured to hear. Email life@abc.net.au

For me, it was not wanting to talk about what music I liked; not wanting to share what I'm doing on the weekend because I don't want to lie about anything or get tripped up; or not wanting to talk about relationships.

You also second-guess things. You feel more anxious and worried, because there are still negative attitudes out there around this. You can still be put to death in some countries and there are still religious communities in Australia who would do as much if they could.

So you don't know how people are going to react to you, and that means that you censor yourself in workplaces, social groups, sorting clubs, in family.

That's why coming out is a thing for gay people in a way that it hasn't been for straight people.

'No such thing as a gay footballer'

Growing up, I thought there was no such thing as a gay footballer, and being gay was not seen as masculine.

I grew up in Yarra Glen and started playing football there when I was five. My dad was a big football man.

I wasn't a super masculine kid, but I kind of aspired to that ideal, probably because of my dad or to impress the other guys in the football club.

A lot of those football guys, one on one they were really sweet and funny. They weren't all dickheads, which they kind of seemed to think they had to be to impress one another in a group situation.

As a gay kid, I totally didn't see myself reflected in football whatsoever, so I felt that I was the only one or there was something wrong with me.

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'Scary, forbidden attraction' too hard to ignore

I had girlfriends and stuff, until about age 12.

But at some point, it clicked for me that I was attracted to guys. It was quite a scary, forbidden kind of attraction.

I knew it was there and I didn't want it to be there, but it became too hard to ignore.

Early on I was like, 'Maybe I can change it. Maybe I can push it away. Maybe I can hide it'.

That experience was one of absolute terror; to think that that was who I was.

'The worst thing you could be'

I thought being gay was the worst thing you could be, because of the way people spoke: whether it's the word "gay" meaning bad or weak or stupid; or gay boys being the butt of every joke; or words like "faggot" and "poofter" being very common in the world that I grew up in.

I thought that coming out as gay, I would be rejected.

So at that young age I just flat out made a promise to myself that I would not act on those feelings. That I would marry a girl and just act "normal" to avoid the embarrassment and the shame of anyone finding out I was gay. That self-loathing and trying not to be gay lasted a couple of pretty rough years.

I got to a point when I was 15 where it was either come out, accept myself, realise this is who I am — or kill myself, because I couldn't deal with hiding.

As I got older, I learnt this isn't an isolated experience for young LGBTQI kids. It's a very common experience.

But also, I learnt that when they do find self-acceptance and come out, a lot of people don't think less of them and a lot of fears in their heads are not realised.

Coming out to a friend

Jason Ball contested the 2016 federal election and was named Victorian Young Australian of the Year for 2017 for his work tackling homophobia in sport. ( AAP: Mal Fairclough )

The first person I came out to was a female friend.

She didn't go to my high school, because I thought if she didn't react well, if she didn't ever want to talk to me again, then it wouldn't be so awkward.

I put it in a letter. I went way overboard in saying stuff like, "I completely understand if you hate me, or if you don't want to talk to me anymore. I completely understand if this ruins our friendship."

I just expected the worst.

She tracked me down after she read the letter and was like, "That's totally fine. Why would I think any differently of you? That's great that you're gay. I've always wanted a gay friend."

It was a huge relief and gradually I began to tell more of the girls at school, and I started hanging out more with girls.

With my guy friends there was this constant repulsion about gayness that was used to assert their masculinity: How straight and manly they are was reflected by how much they hate gay people and think they're disgusting.

So many of them, when you got them one on one, they weren't like that, and they didn't want to be like that. But they thought that was what was needed to be high in the pecking order at school.

So I started to think: I can't be around these people any more. What if they find out?

'All of a sudden I realised my teammates weren't going to hate me'

When I was about 22, a teammate reached out to me to say he knew that I was gay and it wasn't a big deal.

After years, there was only so much I could really hide; they'd heard about it or found out via mutual friends.

When we were in the club rooms after training, and one of my teammates had broken up with his girlfriend, I asked him how he was doing. And he at one point said, "What about you, Bally — are you seeing someone at the moment?"

I said, "Um, yeah", and used terms like "they" to try to get around it.

My teammate said, "What's his name?" and I didn't know if he was testing me. And I said "James", and he asked, "Has he come to any games?" I said "No", and he said, "Well, you should. It would be really lovely to meet him".

And all of a sudden I realised my teammates weren't going to hate me. They weren't going to be revolted by me.

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A weight lifted

Once I was out to my teammates, there was a huge weight off my shoulders.

All the fears I'd had about my football club weren't realised. Part of me felt silly for having to hide it for so long.

The homophobic language faded from their vocab.

From there, I'd felt more part of the football club than I had in my life. I didn't have to hide anything.

There's always hope

The best thing I can offer is hope.

Because if it can be OK in country footy, there's hope that it can be OK anywhere.

Where young LGBTI people might not find acceptance in all parts of their lives, I think they'll be surprised how accepted they will be if they give people a chance.

It's harder with family because you don't get to choose your family the way you choose your friends.

For some young LGBTI people, based on their experiences with their family, or how they think their parents might react, they might feel they have to wait until they're older.

Most people I know who came out to their parents — and where their parents didn't really react well in the first instance — over time came to realise that their kid is still the same person. And it is actually not a big deal. And the kid's happiness is the parent's priority.

Thinking back to when I was young and coming out to people, the people who accepted me were my friends. I love them and they love me back. As for the people who didn't, well, they're not going to be my friend. And that's no great loss because why would I want to be friends with them?

As the saying goes: "The people who matter don't mind, and the people who mind don't matter."

Jason Ball is a mental health advocate, former political candidate and the second Australian rules footballer at any level to publicly come out as gay in the national media. He is co-founder of Pride Cup, which celebrates diversity and inclusion for LGBTI people in sport.

This interview has been edited for brevity.