Let’s focus on a few of my background. Well, I’m originally from Columbia and I used to live in one of the biggest towns around there, Bogota, before I relocated to the Canada. However, it had not been always like that, I was born in a small town with a gigantic people of small-minded extremely religious individuals that would never give me a chance.

As you grow up you realize that maybe you’re different than what your society deems “normal.” Both of my parents worked well so I grew up by my father’s side grandmother, I cherished her. She taught me right away that it was okay to be who I had been and that I was perfect in her eye, I know she knew. Nonetheless, even when my life at home was perfect, my grandma had not been around when I was in school.

South America has a strong obsession with soccer, but I refused to try out it. Even though I attended an exclusive school, it was settled that children would play soccer which ladies would play golf ball. I picked the latter, and because of this, the name phoning started. It also didn’t help that the majority of my friends, maybe eighty percent, were ladies. I used to go along much better with them, and besides, these were my basketball teammates once i had to go to practice sports. I had been regularly teased about being truly a “sissy,” “faggot,” “gay,” etc. These titles did nothing to help me accept who I used to be, but mainly they harm and made me battle this “sickness” I put.

I knew which i was gay since I used to be little, but imagine if it was just a phase?

What if I used to be too little to choose something as important as that? Imagine if I liked young ladies but I used to be just being an immature kid? I continued to fight to change me, to change who I really was, and it was incorrect. I had been starting puberty and I was having thoughts about my first kiss, or my first day, but I hated that, somehow, they involved guys. Why was this occurring to me? Why was I not “normal” like all of those other world?

I usually believed that maybe my hometown and its repressiveness made me this way, merely to be considered a rebel. My dad’s job shifted him to a larger city where I thought my “gayness” will go away. That i quickly would realize that it was about where I was created and that I, indeed, was completely “normal.” As soon as I got eventually to Bogota, I acquired a partner, she was gorgeous in my eye, and she was ideal for me personally. We regularly fought about the fact which i believed Kylie was one of the greatest pop-divas. We used to battle about clothes and current designers. We even fought about one man’s right to wear skinny white skinny jeans. She never got the hint. I pretended I didn’t either.
Even when some friends asked me easily was homosexual, I used to answer back again with “I’m positive about my sexuality, easily would be gay I would say it openly.” I had been lying to myself, and lying to the individuals who actually cared about me personally and my self-being. One day, I didn’t be faking this anymore, I chose that by fighting who I was and pretending to be another person was actually doing more damage than good to the individual that resided inside me. Besides I had been still thinking that, if ever, I would marry Hugh Jackman over Halle Berry. I did so break up with my partner immediately, but I couldn’t tell her the reality, and even when I accepted myself, I couldn’t inform the reality to anyone either. I had been still hiding in that awful place known as the “wardrobe.”

To my surprise, I met someone through Facebook and he became one of my best friends. He began introducing me to Ecuador’s “gay picture” and his group of friends. For the first time in my life I thought like I used to be accepted for whom I was rather for who I pretended to be.

They became one of the biggest groups of people I’ve met, and to this day,  they know I really like them. They made me more available to the fact which i was normal, that I did so not need to improve who I was, which making society accept me was not my job, my job was to simply accept myself and love myself.

I was attending college now and I believed I had a need to change my major. This example sparked a great deal of tension between me and my parents and one day a discussion started. My dad was completely out of his brain over me changing majors, until I lost it. I said the first thing that emerged to my brain. “Why would you know that I needed to change my majors, if you don’t even understand I’m gay?” Not very subtle, I understand, but it happened. I really believe there could’ve been much easier ways to tell my parents about my homosexuality than that one, but I wouldn’t change how it proceeded to go.

My mother started crying and telling me personally how much she cherished me and exactly how this might not change how she treated me personally. On the other hand, my father took it a little harder. Being from the small town we were, my dad didn’t really say much and asked me easily was sure. After this, there have been three hard months for me where my usually great romantic relationship with my father felt sour. These 90 days were problematic for me because I believed I lost my father and I lost my best friend.

Coinciding with New Year’s Eve, my father decided to speak to me and it was one of the biggest occasions in life. He explained he needed time to simply accept who I had been, he needed time to leave all the tiny town thoughts he had to comprehend who I had been, which he never ever wished me to feel unloved. He cried. I assumed my sister always understood so when the moment came to tell her, she laughed. She knew.

From this moment on, my relationship with my parents grew. My entire life began to progress. My dad’s always been kind of the comedian. He started to joke and fool around with me. He became my buddy once again. Whenever we went and he noticed someone who appeared gay, he thought to me that if I wished to go and talk to him I should. My dad never did this on a disrespectful way; he wished to ensure I felt comfortable with being who I used to be, especially around my children. My parents once said and always do it again it to me: “Family’s unconditional. Our love for you is unconditional. All we want as parents is for us to stick jointly as a family group.” They the stand by position this to this very moment.

Eventually I moved to the Canada, from where I write this story, and I have the ability to talk with my parents at least once per day. Sometimes they joke around about when will my wedding happen and how will they know who pays the bill. They’re ridiculous. They actually liked my last partner a lot, but that’s another story. After developing all my life feels lighter, I don’t need to cover up anymore. I’m just me. I’m the individual I always wanted to be externally. My relationship with my parents and friends has become much better as soon as I became honest with me and honest with them. Well, if I’ve lost one or two friends over my sexuality, well, they were not really my friends, they didn’t love me for who I am in reality, they loved the image I created. After coming out everything starts to progress so long as you love yourself first.

When I started to be confident enough of my sexuality, it showed. People accepted me and treasured me for me personally, for the person I used to be, for the love I gave, for how I treated them. Eventually, my sexuality was out there and it showed only my preferences, but I demonstrated them my value as a human being, a normal human being, just like everybody else.

Do you want more #comingout gay stories?  A good collection of coming out videos on Youtube.