My Story

From a young age, I was aware of my unique identity. I exhibited more traditionally feminine speech patterns and enjoyed wearing my grandmother's shoes and clothes. Growing up in a small, conservative town that disapproved of anything outside the "norm," I felt compelled to suppress my feelings. Throughout my education, from elementary to high school, I frequently asked my mother to homeschool me due to the constant teasing I endured for not having a deeper voice or more male friends. Despite never quite knowing how to "fit in," I consistently found the strength to persevere.

After graduating from high school and beginning college, I discovered my first drag bar. I finally found a place where I belonged, a place filled with love and acceptance for people from all walks of life. Little did I know, this would also be the venue where I would be "outed" to my family. This revelation was truly devastating. Although I had been preparing myself for the worst possible outcomes, such as being disowned by my family, being kicked out, and losing everything, I was mentally prepared for it all. I still remember walking into my parents' house and seeing my father crying. At that moment, I didn't understand why, until a few days later when everything began to unravel, and my world collapsed.

Every night, I prayed for divine assistance to help me "change," and each morning, I awoke unchanged, which led me into a downward spiral. This was how I began each day—waking up angry that I was still alive and saddened by the thought that I could never be the child my parents had hoped for. This triggered a significant downward spiral, accompanied by voices telling me I wasn't good enough, that the world would be better off without me, that my parents didn't want me, and that I couldn't even be normal.

At the age of 21, I reached the lowest point of my life. I vividly recall the night of my first attempt as if it were yesterday. I left the bar, where I had masked my true feelings with a smile in front of my friends, pretending to be the life of the party. Despite the facade, I was internally struggling, unable to express my plea for help. As the night drew to a close, I settled my bill and got into my truck to leave, fully aware that it was not a wise decision. During the drive home, the intrusive thoughts grew increasingly louder, urging me to accelerate and drive off a bridge or crash into a tree. That night, those voices prevailed. I drove to a secluded lot owned by my parents, crying out to God to save me, alleviate my pain, and make me feel normal. When nothing seemed to help, I took out my phone and composed my suicide note.

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the child you wanted. I tried praying for a change, but I couldn’t be the son you wanted. I love you mom and dad, I’ll see you again in Heaven. Please make sure that Brintley always knows how much I loved him. I wish I could have changed, but I know that doing this will help you all. I’m sorry I couldn’t change. When you find me, I hope you see this note and know that you did nothing wrong you were the best parents I just wish I could have been the kid you prayed for.

I love you all

-your baby

I saved this note as the background of my phone so that when my parents found me, they would truly understand that I loved them and that I was genuinely sorry for not being the child they had hoped for.

Fortunately, this attempt was unsuccessful. However, I found myself waking up in my truck the following afternoon, deeply distressed that I was still alive. I drove home and lay in bed, troubled by the thought that I couldn't even succeed in ending my own life. A few days passed, and no one was aware of my recent attempt, as I considered asking for help to be a sign of weakness, fearing it might lead to unwanted interventions. This remained the case until an evening when my father and I finally had an open conversation. We had been drinking, and the topic of my being "different" arose. I expressed to him that I wasn't seeking to change his beliefs or have him participate in a pride parade; I simply desired to be loved. I shared with him my suicide attempt and the internal struggles I faced while praying to be "normal." It was at this moment that I believe I experienced a breakthrough. I understood that my parents might not immediately, or ever, fully accept me, but I needed reassurance that I was still loved regardless.

Although I did not have the opportunity to come out to my family on my own terms, I decided to rise above the situation rather than allow someone else to out me. Despite the challenges I faced, as previously mentioned, I made the decision to prioritize my own well-being. I relocated from Missouri to Florida with my best friend. Undoubtedly, it was a daunting step, but it proved to be the best decision I have ever made. This move allowed me to express myself authentically for the first time, and I experienced a profound sense of freedom as I reclaimed my life.

Despite the fluctuations in my life, I can assert with confidence that I have never doubted the love from my family. They have consistently demonstrated their support, affirming that I am both loved and cared for.

This marks the conclusion of the inaugural blog in what will be a continuing series. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I trust you found it engaging and encourage you to subscribe to my newsletter to stay informed about methods I have discovered for managing stress and anxiety. My aim with this blog is not only to share my personal journey and how I navigate daily tasks while dealing with anxiety and depression, but also to inspire others to prioritize themselves and follow their passions.