I found myself leaning against the kitchen counter, fixated on a bottle of Tylenol that sat ominously beside me. The fridge buzzed quietly, the only sound breaking the heavy silence that enveloped the house. Just moments before, I had spent an hour sprawled on the living room floor, my tears flowing first softly, then uncontrollably, a private performance of my inner turmoil. My journal was filled with pages detailing my anguish, including notes on what my family should do with my belongings after I was gone.
I glanced again at the Tylenol. At 14, I was clueless about the effects of different drugs on the body, and I didn’t understand that overdosing on acetaminophen wouldn’t be an instant solution to my pain. I might just end up feeling sick, facing liver failure days later if I didn’t get help. But with my parents expected home soon, I knew that Tylenol was a poor choice for a means of escape.
In truth, I didn’t genuinely want to die. Yet, the thought of continuing to live with overwhelming shame, guilt, and anxiety felt like a mountain I couldn’t climb. Now, at 31, I can barely access that pain I once felt. I’m proud of who I am and unafraid to embrace my truth. I’m married to the love of my life—a woman—and we’ve built a life together that I once thought was a mere fantasy. When I face emotional struggles today, I confront them head-on, knowing they won’t overpower me. I have the tools, understanding, and maturity to navigate through.
I long to reach back through time to that troubled girl and tell her that everything will turn out alright. I want her to know that one day, she will rise from her tears, stop hiding, and discover a world filled with truth and light—a world where the hate and pain won’t come from those she loves.
But at 14, I lacked the ability to see this future. Instead, I was drowning in grief for the person I wished I could be: someone who didn’t harbor deep feelings for her best friend—a girl—but for a sweet boy who tried to hold her hand during her shift at the grocery store. I yearned to be “normal,” to fit in like everyone else.
Reflecting on my past, I try to peel back the layers of experience to understand why I felt so trapped and hopeless. Despite having a supportive, openly gay aunt and loving parents who never hinted at disowning me, I feared that revealing my sexuality would cause a catastrophic shift, ruining everything.
This week, the CDC released its 2015 findings from the first national study of high school students in America who identify as lesbian or gay. The statistics are chilling: over 40% of LGB students have seriously contemplated suicide, with nearly 30% having attempted it in the past year. That’s two out of every five students grappling with suicidal thoughts, and almost a third who have acted on those thoughts. Additionally, 60% reported feeling so sad or hopeless that it interfered with their daily activities, and LGB youth were bullied online and in school at double the rates of their straight peers.
These statistics come from a generation living in a world where they can legally marry someone of the same sex on their 18th birthday. Yet, the persistent struggle remains; for many young people, ending their own lives can seem like a better option than facing the future. And for youth of color and transgender individuals, the daily reality includes violence and hate. These figures are stark reminders that legal marriage rights are not enough.
To my straight friends: it’s essential to discuss love with the children in your lives. Talk about it not only in the context of traditional families but also in the context of diverse relationships. Make it a regular conversation, ensuring that children know there is nothing shameful about their feelings.
To my queer, married friends: we cannot rest on our laurels. There’s so much more work to be done.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination options, check out this insightful post that delves into the topic. Additionally, Make a Mom offers excellent resources and products for those exploring their family-building journey. And for anyone curious about the success rates of IUI, WebMD provides valuable insights into that as well.
In summary, the struggle for LGBT youth continues, with alarmingly high rates of suicidal thoughts and actions. Legal rights are not enough; we must foster understanding and acceptance at every level. The conversation about love, identity, and support must be ongoing and inclusive.