Jeff's Story

Jeff reached out to share his story after being a reader of the blog, and I'm so happy he did. His story is sweet and relatable and I'm so excited to share it. Enjoy!

I’ve heard a lot of LGBT people say they felt like they were different growing up. I can’t say that I felt different, but I did feel incomplete. Or better said, I felt like I was always trying to discover something inside me that I couldn’t quite place. Like I was missing an ingredient but didn’t know what ingredient it was. Nothing so instrumental that it completely threw everything off, but important enough where it was clear something wasn’t there.

I was raised in the church, and my parents were incredible about encouraging me and my siblings to gain our own testimonies of the gospel, and not to do or say anything because they told us to, or because it’s what was expected of us. Instead they taught us to question everything so we would consciously make decisions and choose what was right for us. They showed us that what matters with the gospel (and with life in general) is that we find our journey with Christ and that we are loved. That foundational concept - finding our own journey and being loved - has challenged me to peel back so many of its layers over the past several years as I’ve come out - to myself and to others.

I’ve always been attracted to guys, but I don’t think I recognized it (or allowed myself to recognize it?) until a lot later. Growing up I would get really infatuated with certain actors and their characters in movies or shows. I’d feel drawn to them, but just chalk it up to me wanting to be like them or dress like them. When in reality I had huge crushes on them. Nerdy computer guy in National Treasurer? He’s why I got my first zipper hoodie. I’m sure it was a mixture of many things (not knowing anyone in my life who was openly gay, being in a religion that taught that homosexuality was a sin, etc), but I got really good at not allowing myself to recognize what my feelings really were.

As I got older, it became harder and harder to convince myself I wasn’t feeling any sort of attraction towards men. So I started to accept that, yes, I was sometimes attracted to men, but I also convinced myself I was attracted to women so I didn’t need to think about it. I mastered compartmentalizing my feelings. I knew that if I were to allow myself to accept the part of me that was into men, I would also have to address what that meant for me and my relationship with the gospel, and the church. And I had built a really amazing relationship with the gospel - so many of its teachings not only brought me comfort and peace, but through it I had developed a really powerful relationship with God. Throughout high school, and into college and my mission, I had a lot of experiences where the gospel became so much more than a church or a set of standards or rules - it became the avenue through which I could build a connection with my Father in Heaven that helped me to see myself in a way I hadn’t been seen. In some ways, I started to feel like I was discovering that piece of me that was missing.

But I’d always hit a wall. As I would start to become more open with myself and with Heavenly Father, I’d get to that part of me that I had set aside. That part of me where I knew I was gay. But once I got there, I didn’t feel safe bringing it forward. Based on what I heard at church, my reality was that God did not accept that part of me. Which went against that core principle of being loved that I had been taught and come to believe. I couldn’t reconcile that contradiction, so I’d quickly close it back up and go back to not addressing it.

That cycle was basically on repeat for decades. During the “closing up that part of me and going back to not addressing it” phases I would usually convince myself that there were girls I was attracted to. There really were girls who I had genuine connections with, on paper everything was perfect. We got along great, we had similar values, we saw the world in similar ways, we complimented each other perfectly. But it’d get to a point where I realized there was no romantic connection or attraction on my end. I’d break it off “because I just wasn’t feeling it” and wouldn’t give any explanation beyond that, because if I did I’d have to admit to myself that I was gay. And I wasn’t ready to face what that meant for me and my relationship with God. Continually doing this eventually got too exhausting, so I stopped dating and convinced myself that I was just really happy being single. I truly did have a great life. By this point I had had incredible experiences in undergrad and grad school, I had got to travel to so many amazing places, I had unbelievably caring and fulfilling relationships with my friends and family, I had a career that I was excited about. I was blessed. I didn’t need or want another person to make me happy. At least that’s what I told myself. And even if I did find someone who I loved and who loved me, not only would it be looked down upon by the church, but it would put a blocker on my relationship with Heavenly Father. That’s what I believed based on what I heard, and I didn’t know how to even begin unpacking that. So I’d bury that part of me back down again.

But about two years ago I hit a point where I realized that I had reached a plateau. While I was able to progress in some aspects of my life (my career, my hobbies, my interests), I wasn’t able to in the areas that were the most important (relationships with the people that I loved). I began to realize that because I was not willing to accept who I was, there was always going to be a wedge in my relationships. While being gay isn’t my defining feature of who I am, it has allowed me to see the world in a unique way that I treasure, and it’s made me who I am. But I couldn’t share all of my perspective, who I was, with the people that meant the most to me because I wasn’t willing to accept that part of me.

It then hit me how much of myself I was holding back from my family and friends. And that was hard to see, because I wanted these people who I love to see me, to see all of me. I also realized that a massive gap between me and God was forming. Partly because I wasn’t putting forward my full self, but also because I felt He wasn’t accepting my full self. The gospel, as it is currently laid out, does not both love me and allow me to find joy. And not accepting who I was wasn’t allowing me to try and figure out what this meant for me. Perhaps most importantly, I realized that I had hit a wall with myself. I generally loved who I was. I was proud of who I had become, what I had accomplished, how I treated other people, and the relationships I had. But I hadn’t done the necessary work to discover what that missing piece of me was. I wasn’t allowing myself to completely know myself.

So I started to come out. Slowly. As I told the first couple of people, I realized that there was so much I had been holding back from saying in everyday conversations because I was afraid it would out me. It wasn’t just talking about who I was attracted to, or who I had a crush on, but I could finally tell stories and have conversations where I could give the full context of my life’s perspective. But I was still confused about how to define my sexual orientation. Was I gay? Was I bi? I think I wanted to hold on to the hope that I could find a girl to marry, stay in the church with no issues, have kids, and just go about life normally. So I initially came out as bi. But that didn’t feel right, and I felt like I had to have my sexuality defined before I came out more publicly.

But one of the best lessons I’ve learned from all of this is that I do not have to define my sexuality before I accept it. My ability to accept myself, to love myself and who I am becoming, should not be contingent on if I’m attracted to men or women. It has taken me a long time to recognize that. That accepting who I am, and loving who I am is not conditional on doing certain things, or acting certain ways, or being attracted to certain people. I am worthy of loving and being loved. We are all worthy of love.

I am incredibly lucky and have felt nothing but love as I’ve come out to my family and friends. It has reinforced what my parents taught me since I was young - that embracing being loved and finding my own journey are the most important things I could be doing.

I’m still figuring things out with God. It’s been an interesting journey. I have never felt closer to God than I have when coming out. In so many ways I’ve felt him urge me to not only accept this part of who I am, but to wear it with pride. I feel like He’s shown me so many ways that being gay is not only an incredible part of my life’s journey, but an instrumental part of His eternal plan. But at the same time, the church that we believe Christ leads tells me that I am welcomed with open arms into their buildings and am accepted; but in order to be worthy of all the blessings of the temple and the priesthood I need to stay celibate and not act on being gay. To me that feels like I’m being told that I’m conditionally accepted. That I am not worthy of the same blessings of finding my eternal person because that person happens to be the same gender as me. And that’s painful to hear because it contradicts what I have spent the last couple of years learning with Heavenly Father. That I am worthy of love. That we are all worthy of love.

In some ways I wish I could wrap this all up in a nice bow and say “here are the details of what I’m going to be doing next, and here is the absolute truth I have found that answers all of my questions about the gospel and reconciles all of my feelings.” But because I don’t know any of those things, I’ll leave you with a couple of things I’ve learned. I am a queer member of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who has a deep relationship with my Heavenly Father. My relationship with Him is complicated and sometimes messy, and it also provides me a lot of peace and comfort. I’m learning that discovering that missing piece of me is a beautiful process that’s been a long time coming. I’ve also learned that being gay has allowed me to see the world in a unique way that I treasure, and has shaped who I am. And I love who I am. I wouldn’t trade me for anything.