By Florence //
According to Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
Grief for the perfect daughter I could have been, grief for the typical woman an Asian society expects, grief over the expectations I had set for myself and failed – I would get a boyfriend, marry him, settle down and then have one, two or maybe even three kids to fill that workforce vacuum in a rapidly ageing population
While not the most religious, my family was religious enough. Coupled with the conservatism of Asian society, I grew up with family members criticising gay couples holding hands in public, expressing disgust while removing me from the “scene of the crime”
Which is why I was so scared when I started developing feelings for someone of the same gender.
Denial
I was in secondary school when I found myself attracted to a girl, whom I believed was straight. This surprised me because, at that point in time, I identified as straight. I had liked boys before, I knew I could like boys in future. I was definitely not attracted to only girls. That thought comforted me. Perhaps those were not romantic feelings but strong platonic tingles. I rationalised that I still had time to figure myself out and that I was too young to define myself by a sexuality label.
I was heterosexual. I needed to be heterosexual. Somehow, I still couldn’t shake off this inner knowing that dwelt in the crevices of my heart. I rationalised that I was too young to even consider dating anyone and only wanted to focus on my studies. So whenever emotional inklings arose, I would quash those emotions and pretend that they didn’t exist. Emotional suppression was my best friend, my indulgence in piles of homework was a welcomed escape.
In hindsight, that probably wasn’t a healthy way to cope with my feelings and these recurring confusions would return to haunt me later on in life.
Anger and Bargaining
I felt… bad. Guilt was rupturing my soul for my previous feelings. They lingered throughout secondary school and beyond. I loved and supported everyone around me who identified with the LGBTQIA+ community by offering a listening ear in times of turmoil and telling homophobic bullies off.
After all, who are we without our identities? I refused to let people feel ashamed for who they were. Yet, I couldn’t find peace within myself. I was scared of the possible and likely discrimination I would face from the ones closest to me if I chose to entertain my suspicions about my sexual orientation.
I tried to ‘pray the gay away’, lamenting and asking God why I had to deal with this.
At this point, my mental health had begun declining for a variety of reasons, my confusion about my sexuality being one of them.
I prayed so much and was only greeted by silence, which caused me to become hopeless. My despair made me lose my motivation to focus on anything and one day, I couldn’t find the will to get out of bed.
Depression
My self-esteem was in the pits and I had never hated myself more. I simply could not accept myself for who I was. I wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough or perfect enough. On the side, I was shaking in my boots as I eventually admitted that I could see myself dating a girl, yet refused to accept this possible future.
I was just so disappointed in myself for being a “failure”. An unconventional daughter in a system that valued conformity and tradition. A deviant in a society with a fondness for heterosexual family units.
I hated myself for potentially making my life more difficult. I never asked for any of this. I wished I followed the expected mould for me.
My grades were suffering and I had to stomp out any developing feelings I felt for anyone because I felt that I was unworthy of love, even from myself.
Acceptance
Fortunately, I was privileged enough to seek professional help. For the next few years, my therapist was my sole confidant regarding my issues with self-acceptance. After five years of consistent therapy and effort on my end, I finally feel better about myself and have become more open with my sexuality with the people around me.
When I started liking someone after a failed “situationship” with a girl that led nowhere, I decided that I was finally in a place to tell my parents about my sexuality. My “situationship” had been a secret till that point and I no longer wanted to keep my future romantic pursuits a secret from my parents.
It was a nerve-wracking experience because I was scared of being disowned for who I loved.
My father was fully accepting of me while, as expected, my mother was in denial. She was always the more conservative of the two. While she initially dismissed my same-sex attraction as a ‘phase’, she has been trying her best to come to terms with who I am, seeing how much my identity means to me.
Truthfully, healing and accepting myself is a non-linear journey. Sometimes, I slip back into “bargaining and anger” phase towards things I am unable to control.
Even though my mother’s response wasn’t the most ideal, it was better than what I had hoped for.
It hurts that people aren’t given the autonomy to be their true selves for fear of being ostracised or judged.
My wish is that one day, the world will hate less and love more. People no longer have to hide who they are and that the future will be full of love and acceptance, from others and within oneself.
Florence is a university student who cares deeply about mental health. She wishes that future generations have the opportunity to grow up in a kinder world.
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