Sometimes, I Regret Coming Out

Sometimes, I regret coming out.

I’m only in the beginning stages of my coming out, so I suspect that this regret will occur time and time again. Some days I may say, fuck yeah, this was a great decision! I feel so empowered! Other days? They’ll feel like this.

People have had negative reactions. I wasn’t naive enough to think this wouldn’t happen. But I’ve underestimated how badly it would hurt. I wasn’t prepared for the intense loneliness I would feel, and how bad some days would get. Just a day or two ago, I was really depressed because I was like, yo, people really hate me more than I originally thought. I felt trapped again, and honestly, who wouldn’t? I’m in that stereotypical “teenager stuck in a small town full of narrow-minded, mean people” situation. And it really fucking sucks.

It’s difficult for me because even though I turn seventeen in a couple of days, I’m still not a legal adult. I’m stuck here until I get a job and a driver’s license. But then again, not even a job is enough to secure my leaving.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not itching to leave town just because of a couple of bad reactions. But sometimes, I’m just overwhelmed with how small this place is and how easy it’ll be for word to spread around concerning my “deviant” sexuality. I mean, assuming word hasn’t spread around already. If not in the overall town, then in my homeschool community, maybe. Then even more ostracization could occur.

It’s a gut-wrenching thought.

I do honestly wonder what things would’ve been like if I hadn’t come out. Would I have continued to pass invisible through my communities? No one can find much to gossip about when it comes to a shy girl. A shy, queer girl on the other hand…

*sigh*

I don’t know how things are going to keep turning out. I’m not blasting news of my sexuality off the rooftops of churches and won’t be any time soon, so I think that as long as most “IRL people” don’t find my Twitter, I’ll be okay. And, y’know, assuming Stalker Dance Mom and her girls aren’t gossiping with the rest of the community about my sexuality.

Yeah, this should get...interesting.

Dear 13 Year Old Kelley: We Love You

Dear 13 year old Kelley,

I love you. We all love you.

I know that with where you’re at right at, this is impossible for you to comprehend. You’re scared, and I don’t blame you. You’ve been raised a certain way all of your life and to go against that is terrifying. I know that you’re trying to pray it away. I know that you’re still acting really homophobic because you’re scared that accepting yourself will mean you spend an eternity in Hell.

Sweetheart, that is so far from the truth.

You’re not an abnormality. You’re not disgusting. You don’t have to frantically pray and ask God to forgive you when you have sexual thoughts about another girl. God still loves you.

Three years from now, you’re going to be doing amazing things. You’re going to meet people just like you. You’re going to accept yourself and start a blog. You’re gonna make mistakes along the way, but it’s okay. That’s how you learn.

There are people who love you. These people are going to support you in ways you never expected. Complete strangers are going to stand by your side when your longtime friends suddenly dump you. Hey, it is going to hurt when people leave. I’m not going to pretend that it’s all glitter and rainbows. There’s some really mean people that you have in your life right now that are going to backstab you later on. You don’t know that yet. You’re still working on fitting in with them, still trying to be that good fundie Christian girl. You’re ignoring everything that’s real about you. You’re ignoring your sexuality because you believe that even a same-sex sexual fantasy is a sin.

But you know what? It’s okay. It’s okay for you to be afraid. It’s okay for you to try and fit in. Because even though it’s a huge mistake, you’ll learn a lot from it later on. Right now, I look back at you and know that you’re at the beginning of an amazing journey. It’ll be scary, but it’s worth it. I promise.

There are people here waiting for you with open arms. They affirm your identity. They love you.

Remember: You’re queer. You’re Christian. You’re amazing.

You’re worth it.

Coming Out: A Quick Update

These past two weeks have really taken their toll on me. Despite the amazing support of my Twitter friends, I was still feeling a little down. And scared. And anxious. I’d mentioned a few times on Twitter about how the thought of going to youth group for the first time since coming out terrified me. Even though I’d *only* come out online, teens and adults in the church have access to my feed. I know some of them have seen my tweets and blog posts by now.

Besides one person from my church unfollowing me and other person blocking me, no one had really had a big reaction yet. Then I logged on Twitter last night. My youth pastor had DMed me. Here’s what he said:

“Kelley, I can't imagine the struggles you are facing and I'm not going to pretend to. This world is driven by hate. You see it in the media, it's either sexual orientation, race or political, the only thing that can drive out hate is love! I'm here for you. I will be praying for you and your family.”

By the time I’d finished reading, I was shaking. That wasn’t the response I’d expected at all, especially from him.

He accepts me just as I am.

Was his reaction unexpected? Hell yes. Down here in the South, the majority of people I know have staunch beliefs on homosexuality. Even though he moved here from PA, I thought he’d have a “love the sinner but tell them how wrong they are” mentality. But so far, apparently not.

His DMs made this past week worth it. Initially, I hadn’t expected that sort of support. But after so much rejection, his acceptance made me ecstatic. While I'm hoping for more positive outcomes like this, I know the vitriolic reactions are inevitable. But we'll see how it goes. :)

Another One of Those Days

Today is one of those days.

I got some blog post ideas that I've been trying to work on, but they're not going anywhere. I have my suspicions as to why (gloomy weather, lack of self-esteem, anxiety over coming out and wondering if it was a mistake), but knowing why isn't helping anything. My blog posts (asides from this one) aren't getting written. They're just sitting in my damn Google Drive, unfinished, which irks the hell out of me.

I want to be useful. I want to do something with my life. I'm tired of being the stupid little kid who's really shy and ends up slurring her speech when she does actually end up talking, therefore sounding like the biggest idiot ever. I'm tired of having anxiety. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of people using me as a doormat, then playing victim when I scream at them for stepping on me and hurting me. I'm tired of being ostracized and ignored. I'm tired of feeling like I'm nothing. I'm tired of being stupid and useless.

So yeah. There you have it.

Queer in Christ

I wish I could say that I was completely comfortable in my own skin. I wish I could say that I’m not utterly and completely terrified to have my Twitter profile as “This odd combination of a writer, dancer, and a SDA homeschooled teenager who posts bits of faithfullyLGBT stuff here. Yeah, it's weird. #queerinChrist”

I trust that one day, I’ll be able to say those things.

But for now, I’m scared. Really damn scared. To be out to my mother is one thing. To be out to people in my church is another. It’s not that I’m walking up to them and saying “Yo, I’m queer.” My tweets and Twitter profile will tell them all that they need to know.

Call my new Twitter profile a rash move. Maybe it is. But there’s something frustrating and depressing about hiding. It’s not always “need-to-know” information, but when I’ve had people that I thought truly cared about our friendships suddenly cut them off because of this. And that really fucking hurts. So if there’s a chance people are going to leave me over this, I want to get it over with instead of forming deep, platonic emotional attachments to them.

Because there’s something really hurtful when a friend of 5+ years calls me “dishonest” because I never told her about this stuff in the first place.

In a way, there’s something relieving about being upfront and honest about everything. But that doesn’t negate the fact that making myself vulnerable to people’s possible harsh criticisms and questions. After what former friends have done, I won’t allow myself to hope too much for positive reactions (i.e. them not breaking off our friendships.)  

The only thing I can do is pray, rely on the support of my amazing Twitter friends, and hope that I can handle whatever happens. I can’t control people’s reactions and whether or not they’ll have a Christ-like attitude. All I can do is keep up a Christ-like attitude towards them no matter their reaction. I won’t stoop down to the level of those who choose to reject me and say ridiculous, untrue things. (“I can never hope understand why you changed or why you lived a lie to my face, but I do understand that our friendship can't go on. I don't know you, the girl I have called my very best friend for almost 7 years.” “The Kelley I know was loving, kind, honest, and loved God. But the real Kelley is bitter, angry, and hates God and everything that you once stood for.” “God is waiting for you to turn to Him. He never left you, and He never will. Never forget that.”)

No matter what, I know that God doesn’t make mistakes. They love me just the way I am. I’m queer in Christ and it’s beautiful.