Growing up in a home characterized by abuse and rejection, my sexual development was wrought with confusion. To say that my home was not a safe place is an understatement! My mother, whom I feared, had been sexually abused and broken herself, so masculinity was very threatening to her. Fearful that I, too, would be sexually abused, she began to talk to me about stranger danger, with highly inappropriate sexual “horror stories,” way before I had the cognitive ability to process the meaning of sex. She was also physically abusive and even once had me stand shamefully in my underwear as a spectacle.  My father, on the other hand, was distant and aloof. I got his message loud and clear: Being sensitive was a bad thing. I remember on one occasion, he mentioned to my mother that he didn’t want a “momma’s boy.” Is that who he thinks I am? Because I felt rejected, I rejected him in return.

My older brother was also a problem. In addition to introducing me to porn at age 8, he both physically and verbally abused me for years.  “Nobody likes you,” he’d taunt me. “You’re gay. You’re an embarrassment.” He made me feel ashamed, unwanted, and afraid of men. On the other hand, my father’s distance made me crave affection from adult males. As if these things were not bad enough, my mom at one point suggested we boys masturbate, telling us anything we did was between us and God. As long as it was in secret, I felt free to do whatever felt good. That was my concept of sex. 

From a very early age, I was actually attracted to girls. I remember feeling bashful around several pretty girls through the years. But I was also infatuated with guys, and after my brother introduced me to pornography I realized I had full-blown same-sex attraction. 

Because of living conditions at home, I began to live in between my older sisters from the age of thirteen until I was seventeen. I “came out” at sixteen and they supported me. They were my only refuge and the strongest people in my life. When life got hard I would envision myself as one of them, a strong woman, in order to dissociate and survive.

At eighteen I moved to Alaska and tried to start a new life. My identity was one convoluted mess. At my lowest point, I felt that If Jesus was real then He was the only person who could help me. I gave my life to Him and the healing journey began. I started listening to Christian teachings every time I wanted to watch pornography or do something destructive. I also met with two counselors for an extended period of time to process my past. 

I joined a church and made a lot of guy friends. Being in a healthy community with other guys taught me a valuable lesson. I learned that my new friends liked me just the way I was and that there was no difference between them and me. Choosing to enjoy their friendship and not objectify them literally changed my life. Eventually I chose to stop objectifying men altogether. I went from not being able to even look at a man’s hand without getting excited to hardly noticing a handsome man at all. 

Ten years have gone by since then. I recognize, in hindsight, that I had projected my broken childhood relationships onto the world. I hoped the affection of a man would give me the love of a father and the acceptance of a brother. Conversely, I refused to let women close hoping to prevent another woman from hurting me the way my mother did. 

Today, I feel very differently about the world and myself than I did when I was younger. God restored my soul, my trust in humanity, and my identity.