I officially “came out,” both to myself and my trusted peers as transgender when I turned 18. A baby undergrad with an appetite for a fresh start—a new me, in a new place where I could be whoever I wanted. Being away from my parents was a breath of fresh air.

My gender dysphoria grew fairly debilitating during the spring of my freshman year. I sought out the resource that was the Counseling Center on Main Campus around February 2017. With my best friend at my side for emotional support, I scheduled my first appointment.

From there, after a few sessions with my counselor, a group for transgender and gender non-conforming individuals was recommended to me. This is not to give said group a bad name, but rather provide a perspective of the isolation one can feel when they lack a supportive family, while surrounded by those who do.

I’ve heard it all: you’ll never know until you try; they’ll come around eventually, mine did; why don’t you just tell them; you’ll feel better that way.  

I was outed by my older brother at thirteen as bisexual. I still am to this day, but back then it was made out to be a source of shame. You can only imagine what toll my later realization of being transgender took on my psyche.

My mother, who I no longer refer to as my mother but rather by her first name, completely flipped her lid. I was socially isolated—no phone, no internet access, no personal music (iPods were still a thing back then), no trust, no right to privacy. I became a prisoner in my own home.

From the time I was thirteen until seventeen, I was put in Christian schools. “Pray the gay away,” right? Those four years were probably the most miserable I had ever been, and the trauma of it all lingers with me to this day. I still have issues with trust, people touching or going through my personal items, and I am very quick to defend myself if I am questioned about most anything. It is not a personal attack on whoever I may be interacting with at a given time, rather these are defense mechanisms I have developed as a result of my past experiences.

The reality is, not everyone has the privilege of a supportive family or even a family that is not accepting at first but eventually calms down. My mother has looked me in the eye and said if I came out as gay, I would no longer have a home to go to. I would no longer be her child. She would not love me anymore.

Those words have significantly damaged me and I bear the scars from them even now. Why do I put so much weight on what my mother thinks of me? Well, she’s my mother. You expect a mother to love you no matter what.

To clarify, I am not putting blame on anyone who does have parents who love them for who they are, I am very glad for you. All I ask is that you not take it for granted, and do what you can to be a voice or a support for those who do not have that unconditional love in their own lives.

Ian J. Miller is a third-year studying Psychology.