This is not your usual gay blog

I don’t talk about fashion, I am not a fag hag, and I address personal subjects. Let’s talk about the word “personal” for a moment, shall we? The dictionary definition of personal is as follows:

  •         of, pertaining to, or coming as from a particular person; individual; private: a personal opinion.
  •         relating to, directed to, or intended for a particular person: a personal favor; one’s personal life; a letter marked “Personal.”

That’s more like it. I plan to do a lot of that here. There’s a few things I want to say before I really get into it. If you’re offended by, or uncomfortable with, things like depression, suicide, self-destructive habits, anger, hate, and general negativity related to or caused by one’s sexuality, then please proceed with caution. I don’t intend to make people uncomfortable, I really just want to help. In order to help, I’m going to do something that I have never done before. I am going to open myself up to the public and expose all the thoughts and feelings that are certainly not safe for anyone with a weak constitution.

But let’s begin with some very important things.


1. If you’re depressed, suicidal, or self-harming, or you know someone who is, I cannot stress enough to seek help. There is no shame in getting help. There are resources for you. (The Trevor Project, 866-488-7386; National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 800-273-8255. Check The Trevor Project website for even more local resources. If you need more help, DO NOT HESITATE TO ASK ME. I WILL HELP YOU FIND WHATEVER YOU NEED. If it is an emergency, please, please call The Trevor Project or the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. If a friend is in crisis, be there for them. Help them. Let them know that you are there!)

2. I have been there. I know how much it hurts. Our stories may not be the same, but I’m here to help. I’ve been up all night, too. I don’t want anyone else to feel this pain, too.

3. This blog is about my story, and how I have overcome and continue to get better, and my experiences in life and discovering my sexuality. I welcome any and all questions, and I WILL answer you. It doesn’t matter what you ask me, I will do my best to answer you as completely and honestly as I can. Do not be afraid to ask me.


Who I am:

Hello. My name is Tami. I am 22 years old, and I attend Kent State University. I am an undergraduate student, I love history, anthropology, music, movies, video games, driving, TV, and photography. (and so, so much more!) And I am a fighter. I can tell you honestly, it gets better. What is my sexual orientation? I’ll let you know when I’m totally sure, but don’t worry. You’ll know. For now, I identify strongly with “bisexual”. I care because no one reached out to me when I needed it the most. So, I’m here to extend that glimmer of hope and to tell you that I care about you.

I have severe clinical depression, anxiety problems, and I’m kind of shy. Meet me in person and I seem like I’m always happy and smiling, but it hasn’t always been like that. I now take anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds, I see a psychologist on a regular basis, and I see a counselor weekly. For the last four months, I’ve been making the progress to just being better. I’m not quite there yet. Every day is different, but it’s a new day. I had a turning point that frightened me beyond all reasonable explanation.

I got used to feeling like nobody loved me. I only started feeling that because I noticed one day, I like other girls too, and that scared me. I was scared that my parents would hate me, my friends would think it was disgusting, or that my sisters would stop speaking to me. The longer I held it inside, the worse it became. And I still questioned, I still wondered, ‘am I gay?’. Let’s put it into a little perspective. I’ve been a total tomboy since I can remember. For the longest time, my best friends were three guys I met when I was 7.  I still have short hair and dress more like a boy. If you ask those guys, or my best friend, they’ll tell you that I really don’t like dresses, make up, purses, or high heels. I love jeans, Vans, and hoodies.  I am not your average girl. They will also tell you that they didn’t know if I was ever going to make it to 18, let alone 22. I’ve been bullied and tormented and dragged down, and it was a God damn nightmare. And I still don’t really have an answer. I didn’t have gay icons or resources until college.

My turning point was five months ago, driving somewhere past midnight. I looked up from my steering wheel, through my smudgy, rainy windshield at the red light in front of me. Something just seemed to snap inside of me, I literally felt the resignation settle in my heart. I was completely calm as I lifted my foot off the brake and started accelerating through traffic. I stared down the semi that was about a mile down the road, trying to decide how fast to hit it and suddenly I couldn’t help but sob as I slammed on my brakes and ended up stopped in the middle of the road as it rained. All I could do right then was cry, so I turned my car around and I drove right home. Somehow I knew that I would never be the same again. But that is not the first time I had decided to take my own life. It was just the first time that I recognized that I needed help.

And now I sit here and write this, to let you know that there are other people who have gone through this. There are people who want to help. Most importantly, I believe, I am writing this blog to tell you that there is no shame in getting help or telling someone that you care about to get help.

If you or someone you know needs help, please don’t pretend it will go away. Call The Trevor Project at 866-488-7386. Call The Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. Tell someone you know will help you if you’re afraid to go alone.

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