Trigger Warning ⚠️: SI

The first time I talked about this was through a lense that trauma created. The kind that can tell a horrible story but twists it in order to protect the mind and spirit.

If I were to distill it and take away all the frills it would look like this:

I was 20 years old when I was outed while being held in a mental hospital.

I was completely burned out from overwork.  I was going to school, working and taking care of my half-sister’s newborn.  I had been forced onto medication that we now know increases SI in teens and young adults and were detrimental to people with Manic Depression (now known as BiPolar)

While in the mental hospital I got a call from my mother telling me that I’m normal and it’s just a phase and God loves me and I’m going to be okay .

I assumed it was about the fact that I wanted to actively un-alive myself.
I was wrong.

When I was released my twin brother called me laughing. He said I could write for Harlequin.  After a bit of prodding he told me that our half-sister had gone through my stuff, made copies of my diary and sent it to the family.

This diary contained  explicit details of  my queerness, the sex I had and the volatile relationship I had been in. That’s the real reason my mother called me and told me I was normal and that it was just a phase.

I was outed to my family.
I had no choice.
It was a violation.
.
.
.
In direct contrast. 

At 17, I came out to a few of my friends in highschool and it was beautiful.  

One of my friends even took me to his house where his mom was super supportive of our relationship and even gave my girlfriend and me a safe haven to explore our sexuality.

That woman,
a complete stranger,
uplifted me in ways my family should have.
And because of her I never once felt shame for being who I am.