I always knew something was different about me. Growing up I never understood what girls meant when they talked about crushes on guys. I pretended to have a few, just so they wouldn’t think I was a freak. I even dated a few guys, trying to find that spark that all my friends seemed to have. It never worked, obviously.
I grew up in a very religious family and I grew up hearing that being gay was wrong. It took me years to come to terms with the fact that I didn’t like boys and that I would never like boys. I cried a lot and told my friends first. I came out as bi at first because I thought that would be better to my mom; then at least there was a chance of me ending up with a man.
Of course, I didn’t come out to my mom for a long time. It took years for me to accept myself. By the time I did, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was a lesbian. So that’s what I told my mom. We had some serious fights over it and for a long time I thought it would never get better. But she talks to me about it now, asks questions.
She told me she’d come to my wedding if I ever find someone I wanted to spend my life with. She said that as long as she never saw us doing anything she would be fine, which at first seemed like an awful thing to say. But then, I can’t ask her to choose me over her faith because when it comes right down to it I wouldn’t choose her over my sexuality.
She loves me. She never forgets to remind me of that. I’ve accepted myself and became so much happier because of it. That’s all I can ask for.