I had a crush on another girl when I was in second grade. At the time, I didn't know that's what it was. My feelings were inexplicable at the time and as I had more crushes in middle and high school, I only grew more confused. No one had ever told me that girls could have crushes on other girls, so I was left with no answers. I didn't fully acknowledge that I was gay until I was 14, despite obvious proof. The moment it dawned on me was a moment of clarity: I found myself saying, "THAT's what those feelings were? It all makes sense now." The story of how I came to that realization is a complicated one: I was informed that being "same-sex-attracted" was not a choice by the leader of an ex-gay ministry within my parents' church. Suddenly everything made sense, but at the same time it didn't.

When I was really young, I knew that my uncle was gay, and I also knew that my parents didn't approve of his relationships. The real trauma for me began with the ex-gay ministry, though. I was only 14 when I heard the CEO of Strength In Weakness Ministries speak to an auditorium full of teenagers. It was a teen devotional and I attended with one of my close friends, but neither of us had been informed about anything. During the devo, we were introduced to a man that considered himself to be "ex-gay" now that he was married to a woman. We were also told, in short, that acting on same-sex-attractions would have dangerous and unhealthy results. The specific comparison used was that of the effects of soda on one's blood sugar levels. I internalized a lot of it, without meaning to. That first night was not the last of my, nor my parents', interactions with the ex-gay ministry. All I knew was that in the days and months to follow, I grew so afraid, so angry, so depressed, and everything in between.

A large turning point in my personal and spiritual beliefs occurred during the year of 2015. Gay marriage had been legalized across the United States, and I began to believe that my future was still my own. Nobody had the right to determine that for me. That year, I also began noticing patterns within the church I grew up in. During 2015, I witnessed reactionary homophobic backlash to the Supreme Court decision as it played out in nearly every service. Everyone in the church was furious and time after time, it seemed to be the only topic anyone could talk about. For me, it was a brutal wake-up-call. It cemented the realization that I didn't deserve to be treated as if I was inferior for liking women, so I left the church for good.

Justin Lee's memoir Torn was life-saving for me. After my introduction to the ex-gay ministry at 14, I had persuaded to read a book written by its leader and I did. But just months later, I stumbled upon Justin's book by sheer chance. My mother had brought my brother and I to a Christian bookstore, as she occasionally did, and there it was on one of the shelves. I picked it up, bought it, and began reading. Torn overturned everything that the ex-gay ministry had taught me. Justin offered theories on how certain scriptures had been mistranslated over the centuries and most importantly, it had been written by an author whose point of view was something other than "be straight or be celibate." Justin's writing offered me needed perspective; it helped me realize that I had the ability to think for myself and pull away from those determined to say that I couldn't. The Trevor Project has also been a life-saving organization for me. In the years since being introduced to SIW, I have had on-and-off suicidal urges as well as PTSD symptoms. I am grateful to have a network of supportive friends and doctors, but these years have not been easy in the slightest. When I find myself feeling alone, the Trevor Project has always been a dependable resource.

I won't lie. The last eight years have been difficult and chaotic for me. Sometimes it has felt as if every day is a constant battle, but in the end I am still a survivor. Though I have encountered darkness, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I have met many incredible people in my journey. In college, I made many friends who were by my side through it all and never failed to make me smile. I'm not exactly religious in the way that I used to be. I was never allowed to take communion and I can't really pray the way that I used to, but I still believe that the universe and whoever created it are looking out for us in ways that aren't always apparent or easy to understand. The path to recovery from harmful, homophobic, and conversion ideologies is a long one, but for the first time in a long time, I also have faith in myself. I have learned that writing is an incredible tool and it can be a force for so much good. With my writing, I aim to reach others who are hurting and still feel alone. I also hope to hold the organizations and individuals promoting ex-gay ideology accountable for the harm that they cause.