This is a post by a guest writer. The post is a heavy read, but so important. It’s written by a queer person who grew up catholic and what that looked like for them. People who speak on things like this are so brave. You’re not alone.
– Wes
Be aware of the trigger warnings: suicide, sex
TRIGGER WARNING: suicide, sex
“And with you, too.”
I’m 16, in the middle of mass, shaking hands with my family and those around me. We smile with so much joy as we spread ‘peace’ with each other. I see some of my close friends that I met at a catholic summer camp last summer, and we catch each others eyes from across the room. I can see something in their eyes, and I can tell they can see it in my eyes, too. We are glowing.
As a young teenager, I discovered the power of a church. I discovered the power of religion, the power of God, and the power of people. When I was in second grade, my mom converted to Catholicism. She became an “expert” on all things Catholic, as she had to go through classes and was learning all of it as an adult with a more mature understanding. My dad grew up catholic and my mom followed suit.
The church I attended in Ohio had informed me of a camp that a lot of middle school/high schoolers would attend. It was advertised with rock climbing, high ropes, tubing, boating, all of the fun things you can think of to get kids excited. I didn’t know about the evening events every night that would break people down. If you’ve ever been to a church camp, you know exactly what I mean. They would prime you with emotional talks, intense music, dark lighting, and that sense of camaraderie. Then when they would bring Jesus out during Adoration, we would all be falling apart. Tears, emotions, secrets released. After going there, I knew I had felt Jesus near me.
I became super involved. I went to every single retreat, camp, conference that I could. I became a part of the leadership team.
But there was something. A little itch maybe. A tingle. The glow?
In a conference I attended in high school, there was a part where they were hyping everyone up for the celibate life. They said “if you have ever felt a small itch of being called to be a priest, a nun, etc…. Come forward.” I remember thinking to myself ‘I’m going to go up next year’. I had the itch. I had that tingle.
Flash forward to college. I was a part of the local church. I became involved in what I now call “a catholic sorority.” We had weekly dinners together, we had training to learn to evangelize. We were taught how to handle tough situations. We were in small groups.
The itch became more intense. I started to feel attracted towards some of the people I was living with. I had big feelings towards someone else who was in this catholic sorority with me. But was it just because I thought they were super cool and holy? Of course. Was it because I wanted to be just like them? Definitely. Or was it something more…..?
In small group someone had brought up “same sex marriage.” If you pray, it will go away. Reflect on becoming a nun. A sister in Christ.
Cue the inside feelings going overboard.
The feelings came up. The itch became a burn. The tingling caused an overload of pain. The thought that I would like a girl was so sinful that it made me ill. I was a failure to God. He had provided so much for me, and here I was, having sinful thoughts. Being alone for the rest of my life SCARED the hell out of me.
Who could I turn to? Everyone I lived with thought 2 girls kissing in a movie was something to be turned off so no one would see. My best friends I could turn to, but was this something I was even sure of?
I thought about how I was going to do it for months. Helium with a plastic bag? Cutting my wrists? I watched 13 reasons why and sobbed for hours about how peaceful she looked when she was dying. I craved the ending to the burning inside me that wouldn’t leave. I wasn’t going to heaven anyways.
The night I decided to commit suicide, I was by myself. I took an entire bottle of Tylenol PM, and washed it down with a ton of alcohol. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest and there became instant regret but I couldn’t move. The drugs had rendered me physically unable to control my body.
I was so high that night I was eating toothpaste in the hallway. Spoiler alert: I survived.
Being in the hospital brought me a safety guard of telling people my new found discovery of myself. I liked girls. But NEVER fear because I was still going to marry a boy like the good catholic girl I was.
But inside I was still broken.
I spent the summer in a mental facility where I learned how to love myself again.
But the dissonance between religion and sexuality lives on.
Moving to Florida, I had sex with boys. Just waiting for the right one. While I laid there, I just waited for some sort of feeling. It never came.
I stopped going to church and clarity started coming in. Jesus is real to me. But he loves me and doesn’t want me to feel like I need to die. He doesn’t want me to die. I’m not being bad on purpose.
I have since been hospitalized 6 times since 2018. The dissonance lives on. But the glow? I know the glow comes from inside me, not from being the holiest person.
I feel like religion and sexuality aren’t talked about together enough – how to mesh them. How to get them to coexist. In my experience, people in the religious community “accept” queer sexuality but don’t necessarily allow it. And in my experience the queer community looks down upon religion.
So where does one turn to from here?
I’m not sure yet.
But I know that I am important and my existence is enough.
By: Anonymous
