Time To Bloom
“There’s a large part of ourselves that is unknown.
To others, yes. But mostly to ourselves.
Glimpsed at a young age.
Bloomed until pruned.
We ourselves often the Gardener.
We cut away at the parts of ourselves that makes us stand out.
It’s easier, though far more painful.
But there comes a time when those cuttings begin to grow again.
New life rooted in the disregard for others opinions and an inner assurance.
We begin to discover ourselves again.
Charting a map of our unknowns.
We must forgive ourselves for the pruning, however.
That is the compass we will need on this quest.”
There comes a time for healing. Accepting my sexuality was only the very first step toward becoming myself again. Even once I acknowledge the fact that I was gay. I still didn’t feel okay.
I was dealing with the baggage of shame and the belief that I’d carried since I could remember that being gay was bad.
“It’s not even that I know I’m gay I’m just struggling with confusing and conflicting thoughts and I don’t have anyone to talk to it about. No one that I fully trust. And how sad is that? Not having one person you fully trust.” -August 18, 2013
My journey toward acceptance was a very lonely road. I didn’t want to open up to anyone because I feared the sting of rejection. In my mind, it wouldn’t just be a sting but a world-shattering incident.
I knew that I needed to speak to someone who knew what they were doing. I already had the experience of counseling with an unlicensed pastor and I wasn’t going down that road again.
Searching the internet for therapists is overwhelming. I didn’t know if I wanted a gay or straight therapist. Did I want a man or a woman? Should they specialize in LGBT individuals? All of those were available but I couldn’t choose.
Thankfully, I had a friend who had found a therapist that he couldn’t speak more highly of. I’ve since recommended him to anyone in OKC who told me that they’re thinking about therapy.
I started going to weekly sessions at the beginning of February 2020. The past year has been filled with firsts and ups and downs and a full-on pandemic. I wouldn’t have been able to navigate all of it with nearly as much grace, for myself and others, if it weren’t for therapy.
I arrived at my first session and promptly word-vomited my entire life story. I left shaky and slightly embarrassed. But I already knew I liked my therapist.
He’d had a similar upbringing in the church, so I didn’t feel like I had to explain the culture I grew up in and most of the people in my life.
I was pleasantly surprised every time I’d share how I was feeling and he’d say, “Of course. Of course, you feel that way. That makes total sense.”
I was always validated when I shared my feelings. That didn’t mean my therapist was above calling me out, but I typically already knew when I’d done something wrong and didn’t need him to identify that. I was already very aware of my flaws.
Whatever I shared wouldn’t be turned into a guilt trip or a mark against my soul. Therapy has allowed me to look at myself—things I want to change and areas that I want to grow in without fostering self-hate. The same couldn’t be said for my experience with Christian “counseling.”
A few months ago, I hit a wall. I felt stuck. I was frustrated with myself, with my job, where I lived, and how complicated my relationships felt. I walked in and said, “I know that I want to work through all of this, but I’m tired of trying.”
My therapist leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “Blake, you’re really hard on yourself. Give yourself some credit. You were born into a Christian family, in Oklahoma, you’re gay, empathetic, and self-sacrificial. It is not fair. The odds were stacked against you.”
I didn’t realize how much shame and trauma I had accumulated over the years. It had become such a part of me that most of it wasn’t noticeable until it was pointed out.
More than anything, having an objective observer allowed me to see myself a little more clearly. I’ve known for a long time that I’m my own worst critic. It’s very natural for me to pick at my work, my actions, and my body. Acknowledging that was not so easy.
Because I’ve had someone identify the moments when I become overly self-critical, I can now recognize it and shut it down.
I decided that my time of pruning was over. I deserved to bloom.
I sought out things I loved before I was told boys didn’t do that.
I bought nail polish and painted my nails. I went on dates. I cried over boys. I stopped constantly thinking about if I was “coming off as gay” when interacting with people.
I consumed gay fiction like a man dying of thirst. I watched media that I saw myself in. I saw my story played out between the pages and on the screen.
I surrounded myself with people who didn’t care, sometimes actively enjoyed, when I wanted to jam out to Britney Spears.
I learned to be more aware of my emotions. I learned to talk to myself more kindly. I learned that being vulnerable is worth it.
Therapy did not solve all my problems. But I am of the opinion that the world would be a better place if everyone was in therapy. It doesn’t fix everything, but it sure as hell helps.
But therapy is expensive. Thankfully, I was fortunate enough to work for an employer that provides really good insurance.
(Even if people would like to go, it’s often too large of a financial burden. I’ve attached some resources at the bottom of this page in hope that you might get the help you need at a price you can afford.)
Between therapy and my growing friendships with gay people, I started to feel more comfortable and confident in myself. I cannot tell you how powerful it is to have people that know you. People that see you as you truly are and accept you.
You need gay friends. A gay person without any gay friends is a person in dire straights (ha). You need community. You need to see yourself not only represented in media, but also in real life. You need to know that you are not alone in your struggles and to be celebrated when you overcome them.
I’m really only at the beginning of my experience interacting with lots of gay people. I have in equal turns been excited and intimidated. There’s a learning curve on how exactly you’re meant to fit in.
There is pressure to be perfect. A tendency to overcompensate in order to justify our worth. Influencers that have the perfect bodies, boyfriends, and jobs.
As Lil Nas X famously said, “I only wanna f*ck the ones I envy.” There is a toxic thread that runs through the gay community that is filled with racism, body dysmorphia, and competition.
The gay community is not without its own problems—no community is. I’d encourage you not to conduct the same kind of discrimination that you were subjected to by society. Don’t change yourself to fit in. You probably already tried that before you came out and it didn’t work out so well, did it?
There are a lot of things I don’t know. I’m 28 years old but my level of experience in being gay is that of a middle school boy. But I hope that we can give our community what the outside world deprived us of: acceptance.
I don’t know where you’re at in your journey right now. Maybe things are harder than ever. Maybe some of your relationships have fallen apart. Maybe you’re not sure how to move forward.
It’s my hope for you that a season of blooming is coming. I hope you open up and let the world see how beautiful you are. I hope you stretch out and take up the space needed to grow.
Your gayness is a gift. That’s easier to say than to accept, but each day I grow a little closer to fully embracing it.
p.s. While writing this title I pretended that I never found out what Bloom by Troye Sivan was about.
Therapy Resources:
Grey Matters Tulsa (reserves 20% of caseload for clients in need of a reduced rate)
