Peter | 16 | Northern Ireland
Peter just turned 16. He emailed RUComingOut to share his story with us. Although Peter is confident and comfortable with who is and his sexuality, there are reasons why we have decided not to include a picture with his story. Nevertheless, we're sure you'll find the following words hugely inspiring.
"I’m Peter. I’m sixteen, openly gay and happy. Now, that’s a sentence I never imagined I’d type."
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When I think of what it was like in the closet, the self-loathing, paranoia and silent bedridden terror, sometimes I wonder how I even managed to get out. I’ve realised that the only reason I did was because I simply couldn’t stand it any longer – I’m not a secretive person, and keeping such a gargantuan level of my life hush-hush was like the weight of the world on my shoulders. It made me very angry at times, and a lot of the time it just made me full of silent discontentment, painted over with a maladroit, lying grin. I was not a happy bunny. I’m aware that I’m young, but subconsciously I’ve known that I was gay all my life. When I was small and lonely, I had an imaginary friend. He had no name and he only appeared in my sleep but I loved him in every way a small, lonely boy can love something. Some days he was all that I thought about, and I, for the life of me, couldn’t understand why. A lot of people may suggest that I’m just confused, or that I’m perhaps going through a phase. Granted you can think that, but you’re utterly wrong. When it first occurred to me that I might drive on the other side of the road, at age twelve, these are the exact helpless things I conjectured. After all, it had always been my idea to grow up, marry a woman and have children. How could I possibly be gay? That’s a thing that only happens to other people. |
Slowly however, it sank in that it was happening to me. It’s not hard to understand it when you change around other guys twice a week. With that came an extended period of quiet, forlorn revulsion towards myself. I desperately wanted to be like everyone else, and I honestly tried, but after two years of manic distraction, I looked right into the face of it and realised that it simply wasn’t up to me. Something out of my control had put my life on this road. I think the day things started getting better inside my head was a day my dad said something quite profound, and completely unconnected to what I was feeling; he said, “only worry about things that you can change.” Suddenly realising that I wasn’t going to change, and embracing that, was remarkably liberating, although it presented me with a problem: I’m gay, what next?
"Well, first of all, I began disassociating myself with my church. I hadn’t believed for a very long time and I felt sick to my stomach when in attendance. I also respected many of the leaders in various groups, and I felt that my presence was akin to lying to them. My third year of secondary school was thus my last year in church."
I spent that summer lulling it over in my mind. I hadn’t learnt to say “I’m gay” out loud, so I started with that. Initially a delicate whisper, growing to a quiet murmur, and eventually a sentence spoken at my usual volume. I practiced on my cat – he was thoroughly bored by my pacing performances and quickly became accustomed to my usual song. I need to thank him for being there for me in such a pressing time, and apologize for the time we left the toilet seat up, unbeknownst to him, and he inadvertently jumped into the bowl while trying to reach the windowsill. I digress.
With the ability to actually say it, I went into fourth year an optimistic, but still fearful bunny. I no longer felt shame for who I was, and with that I found my general outlook getting better. The closet door was ajar.
In October, I came out to my first human. He was my best friend, an old friend who I’d invited over as per usual on a weekend. We watched Spirited Away, and it was movingly beautiful. It moved me to a strange place where I contemplated telling him. A small, dense lump of longing was forged in my chest and it grew and grew until I was almost in pain. I was hyperventilating by the end of the film, and obviously my friend noticed. He assumed I’d had too much to eat. I told him I had something to tell him. He asked me what.
And I waited. |
EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. Good Lord did I just do that. Oh no now he has to say something. Quickly! Start talking! Explain yourself! So I began rapidly explaining everything. Myself, my feelings, how hard it had been to say it, and before he’d even said a word to me in response, I made him swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone about it until I felt ready. “Okay,” he dryly replied, “I guess it’s good to get that off your chest.” He shrugged and we watched another DVD (Pan’s Labyrinth.) It was so underwhelming it overwhelmed me. So I had come out of small closet and it was embarrassingly easy. I was beyond thankful for such a trustworthy, supportive friend. We’d both read the Scott Pilgrim books over the summer, and they feature a cast full of gay, so it made me confident to talk about it with him. He, in turn, was open, curious and entirely comfortable with it. He was my springboard to the next step. He was my fag-stag.
"I came out to a gay guy from a school nearby via Facebook. It was immense because he understood everything I was going through and he said absolutely everything right. He was the first person I ever talked boys with and every now and then he told me that he was “proud” of me. I was walking on sunshine to be honest."
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At Christmas, my family and I went to see a production of Les Mis. It was outstandingly powerful and moved me to tears aplenty. I saw the aforementioned boy in the audience and once again I felt the lump of longing grow. I got home and decided to tell mum and dad. I’d had an idea that my mum would take it well. We often had big, deep conversations about life and things together, and often the themes of self-acceptance and living your own life cropped up. Even so, I got stage fright every time I tried to speak up. My mum, with the eyes of a hawk and the keenest character judgement ever acquired, plus the fact that she was my mum, noticed that I wasn’t entirely there. She called me to her bedside before sleep and asked me what was wrong. I said I had something to tell her, and then promptly was unable to tell her. I’ve literally never been so tongue-tied in my life. I sat for likely ten minutes in silence while she confusedly motioned me to speak. Eventually I piped up. “Let’s play twenty questions.” Mum looked at me a little strangely but agreed. |
She danced around the true subject, treading carefully towards it. I was aware that she knew and so was she. She asked six questions but could have asked one. She got there eventually: “Is there anything you’d like t-“
“YEAH I’M GAY.” INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE.
The next few hours were a hectic, shivery, surreal blur. Mum could not have taken it any better. She congratulated me and told me that she admired my integrity (something she’d said when I told her I was leaving church because I didn’t feel right being there anymore.) She told me that she’d known for a while and that all was well and that she would always love me. The usual, beautiful, necessary items. I was so pleased there just are not words. She agreed to tell dad for me (because I was exhausted), and she reported to me the next day that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He didn’t say much for a few days but soon after he came into my room and we had a wonderful heart-to-heart. It was stupendous fun, in retrospect.
With that, I entered 2012 with very little weight on my shoulders. My next enterprise was to come out at large.
I slowly began telling a choice few friends who I could trust, and all reacted with unanimous glee and pride in me.
One day I saw a red box in the school corridor. It was the Christian Union question box, in which you could submit an anonymous question which would be answered by someone theologically minded enough to give a good answer. At the eleventh hour I excitedly entered a question in which I namelessly came out, and asked what God thought of it. My English teacher of three years, an undoubtedly devout woman and someone I thought fondly of, took to the podium on the day to answer it. It was invigorating, even if I was being anonymous.
“YEAH I’M GAY.” INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE.
The next few hours were a hectic, shivery, surreal blur. Mum could not have taken it any better. She congratulated me and told me that she admired my integrity (something she’d said when I told her I was leaving church because I didn’t feel right being there anymore.) She told me that she’d known for a while and that all was well and that she would always love me. The usual, beautiful, necessary items. I was so pleased there just are not words. She agreed to tell dad for me (because I was exhausted), and she reported to me the next day that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He didn’t say much for a few days but soon after he came into my room and we had a wonderful heart-to-heart. It was stupendous fun, in retrospect.
With that, I entered 2012 with very little weight on my shoulders. My next enterprise was to come out at large.
I slowly began telling a choice few friends who I could trust, and all reacted with unanimous glee and pride in me.
One day I saw a red box in the school corridor. It was the Christian Union question box, in which you could submit an anonymous question which would be answered by someone theologically minded enough to give a good answer. At the eleventh hour I excitedly entered a question in which I namelessly came out, and asked what God thought of it. My English teacher of three years, an undoubtedly devout woman and someone I thought fondly of, took to the podium on the day to answer it. It was invigorating, even if I was being anonymous.
"She gave a splendid answer, which told me that God did not hate me nor did he hate anyone and that I was completely fine."
It didn’t reaffirm my faith, and I doubt anything ever will, but it at least told me that her branch Christianity was okay with me, just like my friends and parents were. I later thanked her for her answer, and she responded, “I recognised your handwriting,” with a beam. It was a strange way to come out I admit but it added to an ever-growing sphere of informed people. The next week, it happened. My older gay friend described it as me “firing myself out of the closet like a cannon,” but really it wasn’t nearly as dramatic. I was sitting in English Literature, unpacking my things, when someone jokingly asked me if I was gay. Due to the many months of practice I’d received from performing for my cat, it happened automatically.
“Yes.”
Exhale.
Inhale.
You just did it.
He looked flabbergasted. He questioned me and I stuck to my story. “I’m gay.” “Yes, I’m gay.” “I like guys.” “No I’m serious.”
I explained it calmly and carefully to him. Also loudly, because my natural voice is, um, a bit big. Thus, the entire class overheard. Eventually I was explaining myself to everyone, and I was met with many a congratulations, many a question and many a smile. I was out.
The next week or so was very strange indeed. Some boys were utterly allergic to me, particularly in the changing rooms. I noticed girls were far more willing to talk to me (it’s true, every girl wants a gay.) Most were curious, many were indifferent, the vast majority were nice to my face and no one was openly hostile to me. I just. Like. I simply hadn’t given people the credit they deserved.
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I understand that I’ve had it easy. So easy. And I am so grateful for people in general. They are so much better than I’d assumed. Even the ones who’d been irked initially have opened up and become accepting and pleasant around me. Peace has been restored to Girl World. I also understand that many people have not, do not and will not have it nearly as easy as I had it. To those people, the advice I give is: take a look at your surroundings. Make a good assessment of how sensible it is to come out. "Weigh the pros against the cons before you say anything drastic. But never lie to yourself. Lying to yourself is so much worse and far more painful than lying to other people." I will testify that it gets better, because it so honestly does. I’m sixteen and I promise you, it can get better very quickly. It can take you by surprise. Thank you so much for reading this. It’s ludicrously long but every detail is important to me. Please have a lovely day and a lovely life. Follow Peter on Twitter - @_Padams_ |
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