In my introductory post, I mentioned that "I'm 37, going on 21." What does that mean? Settle-in with a cup of coffee (or your preferred hot beverage) and I will explain over the next few entries.
Growing up, people often praised me for my mental maturity. I was perceived as an "old soul." I became the "nice young man" mothers and grandmothers loved, because I presented myself as polite and well-mannered (if only they knew...). What that really amounted to was me keeping my emotions in check and hiding my true self.
As a younger child, I was fairly well-adjusted. Although I was sensitive and highly affected by peoples' emotions, I can't recall having trouble making friends or struggling with social anxiety. In fact, I was the kid who would cry when playtime was over and it was time to go home.
In fifth grade, my mother pulled me out of Catholic private school in favor of home schooling. I believe she presented it at as an option: "Would you like to try home schooling?" But, it was one of those "options" where the only valid answer was yes. And, while my memory isn't the best, I believe she did so because sex education was included in their fifth-grade curriculum.
Scandalous!
With that, the remainder of my grade and high school experience was spent at home, primarily alone in my bedroom. My brother moved out when I was eight and my dad worked all day. Aside from my brother and one grade school friend I infrequently visited, the only significant in-person social interactions I had from the ages of 11 through 19 were with my mom.
Shortly before I started learning at home, I began to realize I was different. I found myself attracted to my aforementioned friend's older brother, as well as teenage heartthrob Jonathan Taylor Thomas (yes, I'm old). Cringe. All of the feelings other kids had about the opposite gender? Yeah, I had them about other guys.
I was vaguely aware of the concept of being gay, but it was something my parents rarely spoke about. And if they did, it was presented negatively, through the lens of my mom's fundamental Catholic beliefs and my dad's conservative values. Given this, it was a source of immeasurable shame well into early adulthood.
With the exception of internet "research," I felt I had to keep my secret buried deep within. At least, that's what I told myself I would have to do until I turned 21. You see, I had deluded myself into believing that, if there was a God/god, he/she/they would magically cure me on the dawn of my 21st birthday, and I would go on to marry a woman.
This was the reality of my existence for 10 years.
Check back soon for part two, in which I will take a deeper dive into the effects of social isolation and keeping secrets.
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