I don't think I ever realized just how much I was hurting when it was happening to me. That might be due to dissociation or the very high likelihood that I am somewhere on the autistic spectrum, but as a kid I was very unaware of my own pain. Reading through diaries and journals I'd written back then is very difficult, because you can clearly see it in the text; how I was almost confused by the constant feeling of something being terribly wrong. I remember crying myself to sleep a lot as a kid. I was sitting on my tiny bed, listening to music, and suddenly I was hit by a strong wave of sadness and emotional pain. I tried to muffle my sobs in my pillow so that my mom wouldn't wake up. And I just could not understand why any of it was happening. It wasn't like I was being abused. My journals were full of phrases like "I am kind of being bullied a little, but it's nothing serious". Part of it was very likely me downplaying the severity of the situation beca
When I first came out to my parents, I was 16 years old and I told them I identified as bisexual. My father didn't react in any particular way, but my mother said something immediately those words had left my lips: "I thought you were a full-gay!" The situation had been so nerve-wracking to me that I waited until my childhood best friend was visiting me, so that I could have her as my emotional support. It wasn't that I was scared of my parents' reactions; I knew they would accept me and love me all the same. It was just the moment of actually saying those words out loud and admitting to it – to myself as much as to my parents. Admit that I liked girls. At 16, I thought that I was bi, but that turned out to be completely false. Being in a committed relationship with a man for over three years taught me a lot about myself, mainly the differences between platonic and romantic love, and what sexual attraction even means. Because that, I knew, was something I did no