TW: Familial Abuse/Homophobia/Self Hatred/Suicide

Joe  

My past does not define me, but the decisions that I've made in the past still affect me and others today. When my therapist explained to me that my actions were based on my environment, I could not accept it. I believed that I chose to make these bad decisions. For two years, I chose to be a bully and the effects it had on others can't ever be accounted for. 

I went from not being able to face Jeremy, to wanting to hurt him in any way that I could. I wanted to get back at him because of my jealousy. He had parents that loved him. Parents that used to love me. It was all taken away because of my fear of giving Jean what they wanted. 

The grief, despair, anger, and fear that I felt during that period all came to fruition when I sat and faced my therapist for the first time. I didn't even know where to start. The person that saw the real me killed themself, my found family didn't want me anymore, my family at home didn't care for me and I was afraid of who I was. 

I had known Jean since I was six years old. I couldn't talk to Jean without fumbling with my words or blushing. It didn't help that they were so pretty. My favorite hairstyle that they wore was an afro with flowers that were freshly picked from their garden. 

One time while we were sitting in the backyard, while Jason and Jeremy were playing, I placed a few hibiscuses in their hair with shaking hands. Back then, I didn't even realize that it was a crush. I just knew that I liked spending time with them as opposed to my friends. This turned into me visiting their house just to be around Jean. I'd say hello to their parents, spend about a minute talking to Jeremy, and then I'd go straight to Jean's room. 

We would watch tv. I'd do my homework there. If I needed help their parents would help me. They did my projects with me. For my birthdays they'd throw me a mini party. They never once asked me why I always chose to be at their home. Maybe they knew, but I didn't care. They became my family. 

My bubble would burst when I'd go back home. The contrast bothered me as I grew older. The affection and genuine love that I received from Jeans' family, could not and would never happen in my house. My parents did not want me. I was their last child - also known as the mistake. They made it very clear to me growing up. My oldest brother was 16 when I was born. My parents claimed that I ruined their retirement.  My mother always reminded me that I was a failed abortion. They didn't care that I spent all my time away from the house. If anything they were happy. 

I think those verbal reminders would fuel my anger. As my hatred for my parents grew, my adoration for Jean grew as well. They were my safe space. I never received a single hug from my parents. The first hug that I could remember came from their mom. She randomly gave me a hug one day and she never let go of me until I stopped crying. I didn't realize how much I wanted physical affection. 

When Jean saw this, they would hug me any chance they got. We would spend hours in their room just cuddling. My heart would feel so full when I was around them. 

I recall feeling confused by Jean's appearance. They started to dress more feminine and I would question or try to rationalize my feelings. During that time homophobia was rampant. It's still bad now, but when I was younger it was horrendous. They didn't care how old you were, if you were male presenting and you showed feminine behaviors you would get beat up and constantly bullied. 

I liked Jean back then because of who they were. It didn't matter if they were the boy I thought they were or the girl they thought they were. I thought that I was gay for liking them and I had an internalized battle with myself. While their parents preached about self-acceptance, the society I lived in demonized it. 

The first official Pride parade was held with roughly 50 people present, while thousands protested against it. While watching the news my parents condemned "the gays" as they called them and turned their attention to me. "If you ever turn out to be gay I will kill you myself," my dad had said while I thought of my love for Jean. 

I felt like I was walking on eggshells after that moment. My feelings became increasingly complicated. I was 15 and dealing with an internal crisis that almost lead me to kill myself. I was so afraid of what I could become. I wanted to kill myself before I acted on my feelings. Loving Jean meant that I might not be straight. My parents would get rid of me and I'd officially be alone.

Even with this in the back of my mind, I couldn't let him go. Stolen cheek kisses and hugs became a part of our routine. I told them about my home situation. I cried while I told them that I wanted to run away. They promised that we would be together someday without fear. They even told me about their feelings about their identity. About their fear and isolation from their peers. I would reassure them that they were the prettiest in the world and I liked them just the way they are. That I would still like them if they made changes to how they dressed. I was so in love back then. Puppy love still affected me to this day. It was so pure. Sadly, the promises made would never be fulfilled. 

Because of a kiss. Usually, in love stories, kisses are when the deal is sealed. When they kissed me, I felt everything fall apart. I knew that this would be the end. I roughly pushed them away as I hyperventilated. In my adolescence, telling them that I liked them so much and kissing their cheek didn't make me gay. But kissing on the lips did. I can only look back with sadness. I grieve for myself. I wished that I had known better. But how would I?

At my reaction, Jean burst into tears. They were full-on screaming and I got scared. I tried to console them but Jeremy got involved and everything went downhill. Jean didn't want to say what happened and I was too scared to admit anything. Everyone assumed that I did something and Jean never defended me. I felt betrayed and this was the beginning of the end.

Jeremy stopped being my friend. His parents didn't want me at the house anymore. Jean and I stopped talking. I had to stay at home with my family. I became bitter. I was angry. I wanted everyone to feel how I was feeling. It wasn't right and I have personally learned that there is a fine line between anger and hatred. I grew to hate Jeremy because I felt like he reacted too irrationally. I get that he wanted to protect Jean, but nobody ever tried to hear me out. But I guess it made sense. They weren't my real family after all. As much as I wanted to believe that I was a part of them, I wasn't. 

This hatred moved from Jeremy to anything that was in my path. I was destructive. I hurt people with my words and actions. That damage was done which lead me to have sessions with the guidance counselor, who I later realized exploited me to get back at Jeremy's family. I guess I was no better as I used the information I received to get back to Jeremy. 

We constantly fought. Broken noses, bruised lips, and dislocated bones didn't seem to stop either of us. It was toxic. I've learned that toxicity thrives off of negative feelings. That's why I was able to be constantly fueled. The moment that Jeremy played that voice note for me, I knew that I was a goner. Knowing what had happened to Jean made me sick to my stomach. Sweet Jean. Who still loved me to the end. I didn't deserve their love. Yet, they still wanted me to have it. 

I knew that I couldn't keep living the way I did. After graduation, I planned to run away - but not before giving my parents a piece of my mind. While Jeremy and Donovan took pictures with their family, I stood alone as I watched them from afar. 

As I turned to walk away, Jeremy approached me and hugged me tightly as I tried to compose myself. "I'm sorry for everything. My words won't change what we have been through, but I want to tell you that I'm sorry for judging you and never giving you a chance to explain yourself. You needed a friend and I wasn't there for you. I am here now if you would have me."

The sniffling began first, as my body shook in embarrassment, fear, and contentment. "Thank you, Jeremy. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for everything that I said to you. I was so wrong and -- "

"It's okay. Maybe before the summer ends, you can come over." 

"I'd like that."

I wiped my eyes as I tried to compose myself. "Would you like a picture," Donovan asked with a smile on his face. I couldn't believe that he smiled at me or spoke to me so kindly. 

"I would." 

He snapped a few pictures of Jeremy and me before Jason appeared. "What about me?" 

He pushed himself between the two of us and held us together. "Three Js are back together again! Say, cheese fellas." 

For the first time in a long time, I felt a real smile reach my face. I missed this. 

When Jason left, it was just Jeremy, Donovan, and me. I felt fear consume me as I looked at Donovan. But I had to do it before I cowered away. 

"I'm sorry," I started off saying. "I didn't have a reason to treat you that way. You reminded me a bit of Jean with your flowers and I got fearful. I could have made a friend out of you, but instead, I decided to let my fear and hurt take over. You don't have to forgive me, but just know that I'm genuinely sorry. I'm gonna go now."

"I forgive you. It's okay. I understand. Do you want a hug? You look like you enjoy hugs," Donovan said. He didn't wait for me to say anything. Instead, he hugged me tightly for a really long time. "Hopefully I can get to know you on different terms in the future. See you around."

Donovan took Jeremy's hand as they walked back to their parents. Even with how light I felt, their linked hands made me feel weird. Jeremy never came out. Donovan either. They'd spend all day together at school. Leading up to graduation and during graduation practice, they became more affectionate. Jeremy would even steal kisses from Donovan in public. People constantly spoke about it, but never to any of their faces. I guess Jeremy was just that scary. He was someone that would bite before he barked. No doubt he'd do anything in his power to defend Donovan's honor. As tearful and regretful as I was, I couldn't be happier knowing that they didn't need to come out. They didn't owe anyone anything- while I felt like I did. 

After I arrived home from my graduation,  I walked straight to my room. I had been packing all my clothes, medals, and important items over the past two weeks. I had saved up nearly two years' salary from working as a security at night. Some days I didn't eat just in hopes of finally making it out of there. I found a one-bedroom apartment, that I planned to stay at until it was time for me to go off to college. 

I walked to their room in total fear as I faced them for the first time in a long time. "I graduated today."

My dad continued to watch the television as my mother glanced at me. "I'll be leaving today as well. I found a place that I'll be staying at. I know you guys have been waiting for this day, so I just wanted to say goodbye." 

"Oh wow. You're leaving before we got a chance to kick you out," my dad had replied with a frown etched on his face. 

"Okay. I'll be going now." 

"He even has a little bag," he said to my mother as she watched me in shock. "He thinks he's all grown up. Imagine that we spent our old age having to take care of him and he decides to leave without paying reparations. How are you even affording rent?" 

"I got a job."

"You got a job and allowed us to pay for things. How dare you?" 

"You're my parents. Aren't you supposed to pay for me?"  I had started to step back. My mom usually hurt me with her words, but my dad would sometimes get physical. I always felt small around him. 

"I will always hate you for not trying to get a second abortion. I could have found you a second doctor, who would have done it. Do you know how much money we lost having to take care of him? And now he's had a secret job - while we still spent money on him. You better cough up some of that money before you think of leaving here," he states as he came closer to me. 

"I won't," I wavered. "I'm never letting the two of you dictate what I do ever again. You made me into a monster. You made me fearful every step of the way. Out of fear of you literally killing me, I stopped myself from enjoying one of the best moments of my life. Because of you, I couldn't love Jean properly."

"Jean? That boy that died? So that's why you're running away. You're one of those. I can't believe that I spent my time raising a little gay boy. Tell me you're joking," he yelled before grabbing the collar of my shirt. I tried pushing his hands away from me. My skinny frame was nothing compared to his height and weight. "Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not. I don't know if I'm gay but I know I'm not straight," I wheezed out with tears in my eyes. My first time verbalizing my possible sexuality was towards my abusive father who punched me in the face the moment, the words left my mouth. 

"How dare you!" he shouted as he choked me. I tried so hard to get him off of me. I even tried kicking, but he slammed me into the wall so hard that the tv fell from the shelf and slammed into him. He let go of me in pain as I lay on the floor trying to catch my breath. As he lay there, I used all of my strength to stand up and grab my bags. 

I remember seeing my mother sitting in her place on the bed as she watched everything happen. She didn't once help me. If anything she looked relieved as she watched me run out of the house. I barely made it to the apartment, before I threw myself on the ground and cried my eyes out.  I cried because I was free, but I was finally alone.

Looking back, I feel sorry for myself. I feel pity and I feel love. Back then, everyone called me Joe and I'll refer to my younger self as such. Joe wanted to be loved. Joe cried out for help - in ways that were good and bad. In the end, Joe was able to escape from a world that would have torn him apart. 

As Joseph, I can only acknowledge and be appreciative that the journey I've been on has been able to shape me into a person that is honest about how they feel and ready to accept love and give it. I can finally acknowledge that I did love Jean and I wished with every fiber in my body that they were alive for me to give them all the love I have today. But I can appreciate the memory and continue to love the memory that I have.

My therapist was able to help me understand and forgive myself. Only then, was I able to move on and heal. 

I wasn't straight and that's okay. I didn't have to worry about my parents. Their validation meant nothing. The most important person in my life was me. 

I will make amends for my past to ensure that I can finally have a happy life. I want to have a love that gives me butterflies and a partner that gives me love - even if there are moments when I feel like I don't deserve it.