-by Troy Roness
Growing up in North Dakota in an environment abundant with oceans of
wheat, vast plains, rolling hills, and wonderful people, it's hard to
believe that such a tumultuous journey could lie ahead in a young
man's life.
To each outcast, in every sense possible, this piece is for you.
In a quiet community of roughly 1,000 residents, I lived a fairly
"normal" existence. Worshiping in my hometown church, participating in
community events, and riding my bike everywhere until dusk was part of
everyday life. But dark clouds gathered in the distance of my sky, and
I had no idea a "perfect storm" would soon begin my Stepford-like
existence.
For the first 16 years of my life, I was exposed to emotional trauma
at home and bullying and teasing in school, and I became very good at
trying to make everyone happy. I wore many hats when tackling my
ever-changing surroundings. My mother always instilled in me that
there was nothing I couldn't do. I was always encouraged. Sure, my
parents pushed for solid academics, but like all parents, they wanted
me to succeed. I embraced being respectful to everyone I was
surrounded by and used humor to attract attention in an attempt to
separate myself from my insecurities.
I played every sport possible and was even named "Senior Athlete of
the Year." However, this "jock" was nervous, hated his looks, and was
forced into internal seclusion despite his outward demeanor. I never
realized I was struggling. Everything I was feeling, good, bad, or
otherwise, was simply pushed down and nearly unnoticeable.
Fortunately, I was introduced to faith, true faith, during my teen
years and embraced all it had to offer. The Lord took my heart at the
age of 18 and never let it go. I'll never blame my faith for obstacles
I've endured. In fact, it's what keeps me going through the most
difficult of times.
Staring at myself in a mirror, I internalized my shame, guilt, and
insecurities. I believed my appearance defined my existence. The
perfect grades, the perfect body, and appearing flawless would somehow
make me complete. I've learned, though, that we aren't mean to be
"perfect"; we're meant to be whole.
College is everyone's opportunity to be free, thrive on their own, and
separate from their roots, right? Well, with no idea of where life
would take me, I spiraled into an addiction to exercise, paired with
anorexia -- aka "eating disorder not otherwise specified," or EDNOS.
Yes. I'm a guy with an eating disorder, a jock, a Christian... and
gay. One of the major contributors to my illness was the internal
fight where faith was my guide and being gay was incredibly wrong.
However, I could never simply throw it away and believe that's why
I've struggled for so long.
In an appearance on Dr. Phil in 2009, I sought help and endured six
months of residential treatment to begin my recovery. I addressed
emotional trauma, my parents' divorce, perfectionism, self-hate,
bullying, and family alcoholism. However, throughout that time, and
even the year after, I never addressed the internalized homophobia
that manifested out of my desire to please God. Contrary to popular
belief, eating disorders aren't about looking good. Through extreme
exercise and trying to control what I could, the physical, I nearly
killed myself, twice, by pushing my body to the brink, enduring
self-punishment and starvation.
I've drawn my own conclusions about the responses I'll receive
concerning my sexuality: avoidance, hatred, acknowledgment, and pity.
Just FYI, I'll take any of those responses but pity. It's taken so
long to be where I am and to find my voice, so I'll never regret the
journey here.
Telling a few loved ones that I'm gay has been interesting, but most
people who know me are learning this for the first time as they read
this piece. Aug. 31, 2010 was a first step. On that day I received the
craziest response: acceptance. That's the response I'd feared. Odd,
right? Even more terrifying, though, was that that person had
"wondered" about my sexuality for some time.
Damn it.
I thought, "Had all my personal hell and pain in silence been for
nothing?" I mean, my entire belief system wanted rejection and
ostracism; it's what I deserved for being "wrong." After all, I fought
for 22 years by myself and tried two years of traditional and
Christian counseling to change. If the Lord didn't love me, who would?
You see, I knew I was "different" by age 5. In that small community, I
remember leaving the yard against my mother's instructions, stopping
next to a fire hydrant about a block from home, looking up at the sky,
talking to God, and asking Him for a boyfriend. I look back with two
contrasting views: first, what an incredibly pure and even "cute"
third-person memory of a boy praying to God innocently, but second,
this may have been the beginning of the shame I've always carried.
On my knees I cried and prayed for God to take it away, to take me
away. I even prayed for a sign that would tell me that this was what
I'd have to carry by age 16. Needless to say, that age came and went.
The movie Prayers for Bobby really hit home. Because of my incredible
faith and hope for acceptance, I imagined the mother and son as a
single unit, fighting for what was "right." Growing up with direct and
indirect messages that you're part of the moral decline of society is
rough. I'll never forget being told that God hates me or that I should
be isolated on an island.
Self-hatred is nothing but a disease. Even if a small amount thrives
within, life doesn't have to throw much our way to bring down all the
good for which we've worked so hard.
My biggest challenge now lies in societal assumptions. I'm not a label
or stereotype, and I refuse to be generalized. I'm still that
respectful young man from home, not because I'm gay, but because I'm
me. I don't emulate many of the caricatures of LGBT individuals in the
media. And, yes, I'm still Christian. It's not internalized
heterosexism when I say that my sexuality doesn't define me any more
than my eating disorder does. As a culture, we need to move beyond
limiting beliefs and one-dimensional labels that take away from the
amazing individuals we actually are.
In my fight to end eating disorders, I've spoken to thousands through
advocacy with the National Eating Disorders Association, NORMAL in
Schools, Inc., the National Association of Males with Eating
Disorders, MentorConnect, PBS' This Emotional Life, and those working
legislatively to ensure a healthy environment for all. But before
today, I never mentioned my sexuality. I've always thought that
people, specifically men, have enough stigma when it comes to eating
disorders. From being told it's a "woman's-only issue" to being called
"weak," stigma prevents too many from seeking the help they deserve.
Why feed into the erroneous belief that everyone with an eating
disorder is gay? Not all people who have eating disorders are gay;
that fact should be pointed out. However, a large portion of the LGBT
community is plagued by this illness, stemming from non-acceptance,
self-hate, and feelings of unworthiness that must be addressed before
one more person is lost. I won't participate in the social structure
that denies anyone's opportunity to survive.
To those individuals in my past who've thrown at me the words "p*ssy,"
"f*ggot," or anything of the like, yes, I remember your names, faces,
and words, but I have to ask, "Are you happy now?" You may have been
correct in your assumptions concerning my sexuality, but you were very
wrong in estimating my resilience in recovery and my perseverance to
eventually stand on my own.
I've had many mentors during the course of my life, and I pray that I
don't lose their respect. I'm the same individual I was 10 seconds
before they clicked this link. That said, if they turn away, it will
be my turn to take their place and become another's ally.
I now embrace everything that's come to pass. I'm here for a reason. A
heart attack and organ failure resulting from an eating disorder,
partly fueled by internalized homophobia, nearly killed me, twice.
Being alive is God's way of saying He isn't finished with me yet. I
want to help find the gray in a society where black and white
dominate. Life isn't black and white, and the experiences we endure
help shape who we become. Fear is a major obstacle, and there's
advantage in being confident enough in your own opinions to educate
yourself without abandoning what you deeply believe.
It's been said that man's greatest moment in life is when he finds out
who he truly is. Well, I'll admit that I'm still searching. Perhaps
not knowing is the greatest part? Rosie O'Donnell said she never knew
how liberating being open is. Well, here's to you, kiddo.
My hope is that society can look at the real me. Don't assume a label
or jump to the physical. Rather, remember that I've done something. I
dedicated my existence to serving others, helping youth, using my past
to improve others' future. I want my parents to know that they did
well, and I want my family to believe that they helped this man
survive.
I want to write a book, become an ambassador and a motivational
speaker, and make certain everyone knows there's always hope. I want
to change the world.
My struggle has been difficult but worth it. I've believe there's
something powerful about saying, "I finally shared my secret. It was
no longer mine to keep." I'd encourage everyone to discover what it
truly means to feel worth it -- just as you are.
More:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/troy-roness/coming-out_b_1285136.html
--
Together, we can change the world, one mind at a time.
Have a great day,
Tommy
--
Together, we can change the world, one mind at a time.
Have a great day,
Tommy
--
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