Jeanette Leuty
“The suppression of my emotions influenced my relationships and my sense of self.”
Because my father struggled with depression, our home was often a place where I walked on pins and needles. Being careful not to upset him, we were mindful of what was said and done. As a child, my younger sister had her own personal struggles that created even more tension within the family. Because my mother saw my dad’s impact on me, she encouraged our relationship by having me spend more time with him. Her heart towards me was intentional, but by focusing on him, I never formed a strong bond with her. What’s more, it felt like my mom focused on church and other things rather than developing a relationship with me. And so, naturally, growing up, I felt more comfortable among boys.
When I began school, I participated more often in “boys” activities. Being outdoors and playing sports were things I enjoyed, but I could see how being a girl put me in a category different from my male friends. They looked down upon me and made me feel less-than and inadequate. Even my father would introduce my brother as his son, my sister as his daughter, and me as his “tomboy.” Stuck in the middle, I felt this tension as I got older: I didn’t know where I fit among my peers or the people around me. I felt excluded from male activities and didn’t desire to do the things my female peers were participating in. Then as a teen, when my female peers began dating boys, I found myself uninterested. That’s when I began experiencing same-sex attraction.
The summer before high school, I found a yearbook, and as I flipped through the pages, I saw someone that I thought was “like me.” I became obsessed with finding out about her because, really, my search for her was a search for myself. Lost and confused about my identity, I felt isolated and alone. I rarely opened up to others about my struggles or feelings. My efforts at vulnerability were often met by distrust and distance—the opposite for which I was searching. Vulnerability was a double-edged sword. Because I couldn’t truly express myself, friendships would quickly fade. I still believed in and loved God but didn’t know where to fit my attractions and sexual identity into my faith. I didn’t want these feelings and prayed God would take them away. When that didn’t happen, I set Him on the back burner.
Looking back, I can see how the suppression of my emotions influenced my relationships and sense of self. Feeling less than a woman and lacking safety and security in relationships led me to keep everything inside, struggling silently while desperately needing love and affection. My same-sex relationships were the only places I found the love I thought I wanted, but even then, the hole inside my heart wasn’t being filled. Because I still had a nagging conviction that my thought patterns and desires were abnormal, out of desperation I turned to my faith for answers. I sought out passages in the Bible to ease my heart; I pursued different resources online, got connected with a Bible study, started going to a prayer group, and began attending church. For a long time, the church was where I felt most rejected and ashamed. Christians seemed to have the biggest problem with me and how I lived my life. Yet, unbelievably, the church became a place where most of my emotional healing happened. Christians were the people who loved me wholeheartedly and ultimately helped free me from the pain I had carried in my heart. They responded to my vulnerability with tenderness. God continues to bring people into my life who are willing to walk the journey with me and give me the space I need to authentically and truthfully share my heart and my life. I am healthier and more fulfilled than ever before because I have embraced myself as a woman and left LGBT.