You Do Have a Choice

You do have a choice.

I chose self-love. It became unbearable to choose anything else. I use ‘choose’ relatively; many things do not feel like choices. I thought I did not have a choice for most of my life, because if I did anything different from what I was supposed to, I risked punishment and potentially losing my family. In simple terms, I grew up in a cult. Literally.

Cult mentality is designed to make you believe that your only choice is to stay and obey, otherwise you lose something valuable. In my case, it was my family, friends, and way of life. The stakes were high. Growing up I did not know much about life outside. I was born into it, and it was all I knew. It affected everything I did. My whole life was meant to give this organization a good image, and to keep a good reputation for my family.

I got baptized close to age 14, at the time I did it because it was the only thing that would please my family. Honestly, I felt so much shame and I believed baptism would erase all of the ‘sins’ I thought I had committed, mainly “impure” thoughts. I wish I had known when I gave my future to this organization that the future would bring me surprises I could not have planned for.

Any endeavors outside religious pursuits were strongly discouraged. While I did get to do a lot during middle school, including show choir, clubs, and track I was constantly told I should not do those things, and looked down upon by the congregation. It took a lot of strength to go against the principles in any way. If it was brought to the attention of other members, I risked being publicly reproved or excommunicated. Both come with great shame and tarnished reputation. Excommunication is probably the worst, because it applies to your family. They are no longer allowed to talk to you at all, except in the event of an emergency.

It is clear to see why I felt I did not have a choice. Of course, I could not lose my family! I would rather live this life than give them up, especially my sister. I said those words to myself until I became physically unable to. Until it was absolutely debilitating. Until I could no longer speak at the congregation meetings. Until I had almost entirely distanced myself emotionally from everyone inside, including my family. Until I had thoughts of suicide, feelings of anxiety, weeks of feeling depressed. It demanded to be addressed. I could not hide anymore. I could not go on believing I did not have a choice.

At this point, I was 20, I was almost done with my bachelor’s, living at home, and working a decent job. I pursued an education and a job despite being told not to by my family and the organization. I worked vigorously to get scholarships and ensure I could pay my way through college without my parent’s financial help. I knew I had to move out, so I worked to have savings and ways to get assistance. I did not believe I was ready, but I knew my environment had become toxic.

I dreaded coming home and hearing God’s name. Anything related to God brought me sorrow. At one point I blamed God for doing this to me. How could He put me in this family? How could He put me through all this? How could He make me gay, and then tell me that I was an abomination? How could He tell me that I was amongst the worst sinners? How could He say how I felt was okay, but I needed to live celibate? Why would He call Himself the God of love and deny me the very thing He is? How could He tell me that I would never be good enough? I was angry and so deeply hurt. I did not know who to blame for this.

Truthfully, I don’t blame anyone for this anymore. I was using it as a crutch, and I no longer need it.

It took me most of my life to be able to say the word gay in reference to myself. While I never was against anyone, especially not the LGBTQIA+ community, being part of it was something I knew would be catastrophic. I never understood what was wrong with it, but I was taught they were bad and therefore I was bad. The only way I could stay inside the cult was if I “let God help me with this condition.” It was a matter of praying the gay away, living a life of celibacy, or just marrying a man anyway. All of those options to me felt inhumane. Why should I be punished for something I did not choose that does not hurt anyone?

My dad found out one night after bombarding me with questions. My mom noticed something was off with me and had him talk to me. That night changed my entire life. I thought I wasn’t ready. I broke down and had the worst anxiety attack of my life. But after that, I fought for myself like hell. Thanks to my education, my curiosity, and my independence I was able to accept myself. I went to counseling for a while. Accepting myself came with great shame, fights every night with my parents, anxiety, cognitive dissonance, and so much hurt.

It also came with hope, love, independence, freedom, support, self-love, strength, and a beautiful community. Even after I knew I couldn’t hide anymore, I still felt horrible shame every time I looked at a girl, or even thought about one. I felt guilty for looking at anything LGBTQ+-related in the media, or for listening to music by queer artists. I would support them, but my internalized homophobia made it so difficult to feel proud. It took time for the things that brought me shame to bring empowerment. It does not happen overnight, but it is a journey we all go through. It is a journey that never fully ends, but can make you such an understanding human.

But if it had not been for that horrible night, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to come out. I thought I wasn’t ready, but I was. I am stronger than anyone believed me to be. Stronger than I ever thought I could be. My family threw everything they could at me to get me to stay in the religion. They said horrible things to me, they fought/guilt-tripped me every night, they kicked me out, they withdrew all financial assistance, and excommunicated me. Though I left home and the organization before I could be officially excommunicated, they treated me as if I had been. Despite all their attempts, I persevered. I chose self-love. I cannot fully explain how liberating it feels to live my life authentically. I will not hide for anyone. I am here and I deserve good things.

My situation is relatively unique, but what I felt is not. I know you can relate at some level. The most important thing to remember is that just because a choice is difficult, does not mean it’s nonexistent. I promise support is available, sometimes you just need to search for it. People are generally good. Sometimes when we have been hurt badly or our trust has been betrayed it is hard to believe that people can have good intentions. I get it. I see you and I know it’s hard. Harder than you can ever convey.

Please don’t give up.

You are stronger than you know, and there will be people there for you when you feel like you aren’t. Know your worth. All of these clichés mean something. You are worth everything. Fight for yourself, especially when no one else will.

Everyone is in a different situation, and for many people choosing could quite literally be a matter of life or death. My heart goes out to you, and if that applies to you now, I promise it gets better. I didn’t believe that when I was at my lowest, so I don’t blame you for being skeptical. But choosing self-love is always the right choice, even when it is the hardest.

You have a choice, so choose self-love.