Back in high school, I lived a double life. I enjoyed spending time with my friends and the youth group at my church. But I also spent time looking at porn, questioning how I fit in with guys, and lacking any strong sense of masculinity. The summer after my junior year, I decided to volunteer at a nearby camp. Having never attended this camp -- or any camp – as a camper, I had only vague expectations for my first week. It was a Christian camp so what could be bad about it, right? Driving down that gravel road, though, all the fears and insecurities came rushing at me.
As I entered into ministry, I knew my SSA could end it all in one swift move. I hoped that instead of being rejected I would be loved. I hoped that people would notice their prejudice and change once they met me. I spent much time in prayer -- but also smoking.
My second greatest "love language" is quality time. I communicate and receive love simply by being physically present with someone. We can be silent for hours -- but if we are "intentionally" together, then I perceive it as a sign of care and love. I wasn't here for him; I was here for me.
I'd transition to being a woman. I'd find a man to love me for who I was, and I'd become his wife. I'd run away with him and find freedom to be the woman I was supposed to be. This is not what happened, of course. Some would call it a mercy; others, a tragedy. I call it taking ownership of my gender identity.
I've reached the end of myself many times, and even just admitting that is incredibly difficult. Heartbreak, betrayal, loneliness, and fear -- all related to my sexuality -- have shaken me to my very core and brought me to the end of myself.
Once I had exhausted my words and my voice, he stepped right in and began pouring out every bit of encouragement he could think of. He kept his arm around me and continued to encourage me. It was as though I'd crumbled right in front of my best friend as he carefully helped build me back up.
It seems as though everyone around me assumes that, simply because someone else struggles with their sexuality, I will become friends with them without any trouble. Friendships take a lot of work. Sexuality -- that is just one minor aspect of a relationship.
What started that night was three years of an unchecked porn addiction. I never felt guilty. I don't know why. Perhaps because I felt like I wasn't hurting anyone?
People who do know me, who do know my past, do they still question my attractions? Honestly, I kind of want people to ask me if I'm still attracted to men.
I think it's ironic, but I really believe our stories may be better received by unbelievers than some churches. Fortunately, my story is different. Most people have patiently heard me out and graciously extended loving support.