If you think waayyyyyyyy back to the beginning of my blog, I mentioned that I used to periodically get, what I call, intense depressive attacks. I suffered these episodes from about the ages of 17 to 22 and they happened every one to three weeks, or so. I attempted to describe what I felt exactly during these episodes in this post. I don't know what any of you think of it, but I am very proud and really like how I stylistically wrote that old post.
That 17 to 22 age range is a relevant number. The age of 17 corresponds to when I first started, ever so slightly, to not bury away my gayness deep-down inside of me. If you recall, that's when I first started CEGEP and began testing the potential for coming-out to my new friends. The age of 22, on the other hand, corresponds to the day when I finally had an epiphany. This post is about that moment of clarity.
Let us first backtrack to an evening in February of 2008 (about 1 year ago), the day before the conversation that led to this epiphany. That night I had a depressive attack. I pretty much stayed in my room the whole night. The episode was just like the others: untrue thoughts and irrational feelings, that in the moment felt like indubitable truths. I felt intense sadness and fear over the fact that I knew my family would erase me from their memory when they discovered I was gay. At the same time, there was so much rage inside me because I knew my closest of friends didn't respect me and could never accept me for who I really am. As a whole, I knew I was the only person who was like this and that somehow this was a well-deserved punishment. For this time, the outside world didn't exist; I was alone, as I brooded and wallowed in my emotions and teary eyes.
There's no real point of getting into the nonsense of that above stuff now, because it's only in the deluded, depressive moments that any of that could make perfect sense.
Let's now fast forward to the next day, when I'm sitting in a car with Fiona and another friend. We had just finished catching lunch together. Our mutual other friend was giving us both a lift back to our respective homes.
The event of the night before was still in my mind. The intensity, the emotions, and, surprisingly, the awareness that I shouldn't be thinking like that. Up until then, I had never really mentioned my depressive attacks before to anyone, but I wanted to say something to get some opinions over something I thought I needed.
Me: I don't know really know how to say any of this... There have been these things bothering me lately...and I don't like it. I get into these sort of mini depressions. I know it's not normal and I'm tired of feeling like this. I think I want to see a psychologist or psychiatrist so that I can get some help.
This was definitely a new situation for myself, the driver and the other passenger in the car. I wasn't sure how to express my thoughts, without exploding out at all of them all at once and I know that neither Fiona or our other friend was used to me saying something like this.
The friend who was driving, decided to pull the car over to the parking lane and turn to look at me. Don't let her nameless status typecast her as unimportant in this memory, because he words are key.
Friend: Do you really feel that your problems are so bad that you really can't speak to any of your friends and instead need to seek out a stranger?
That is the moment when it hit me.
I was always reserved about my sexuality and problems. From the first time I came-out, to the last person to know. The vast majority of times that I spoke about any related topic to homosexuality, it was always others asking me questions and me trying to find the words to describe what I felt. Don't get me wrong, I made lots of progress over the years, with different people, but I was always holding myself back. For 5 years, my friends were always having to fish out answers from me. At the same time, the resounding things that many of them told me was always along the lines of I'm Okay with who you are and I just want to know you. From Fiona, to Liz, to Alicia, to Tim, to Xav, to Mike and to countless others who's names I have never said. All they wanted was for me to be comfortable in my body and to just share my worries, likes and musings in relation to my gayness. Whether laughing over the awkward moment I had with a crush or consoling my worries about my family, the only thing they had asked me to do was tell them.
It wasn't this specific friend that made the difference, but her words put the final Click into my mind: I just need to talk with my friends.
So for the first time, in that car, I talked about my depressive attacks. I told them how insane each episode felt and how it did mirror my real fears. And then I spoke to them about other problems I had been having recently. And then I told them about the awkward and hilarious hook-up I had before Christmas. And then I told them about anything else I had held back.
And then when I got home, I found Alicia online and I retold her everything that was said in the car. And later that night, I met up with Xav, Tim and Mike and told them all as well.
Since the epiphany that day, I've never had another depressive attack. I still have high days and low days, but I consider those normal. My comfort with sharing my gayness has skyrocketed since that day, because I stopped looking for clear moments when my friends were obviously interested in hearing about "gay things". I don't undercut myself, by thinking that they don't want to hear about this... I just say what I want now, and I know they like to hear about it.
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