Usually when I go this long between blog posts it’s because I don’t have anything to write about. But this time it’s because there’s so much to think about and I don’t know how to do it justice. It’s hard to form words when you’re trying to be honest, concise, humble, and interesting all at once.

In the last few months I’ve had three sessions with a counselor. I would’ve had more, but I keep forgetting to schedule appointments, which is the same reason my hair gets so long these days. But unlike every previous counselor I’ve seen, every one of these sessions has been powerful and useful in helping me discover and face truths of my life that I haven’t known about or was too terrified to face before.

And I think I want to start writing about some of those things.

Because if you hadn’t noticed, there’s an overarching theme to most of my posts here. This blog is, at some deep level, my journey of self-discovery, exploration, and acceptance, often regarding my sexuality. I’ve said before that I write so candidly here so that people, whether in my situation or not, can maybe begin to understand or empathize with what it’s like to go through this.

I don’t want to scare people or psych myself out just when I’m making progress. So please, let me say what I need to say, and don’t feel the need to suggest solutions or offer condolences. I’m in good hands and, while your concern is touching, please let me handle things my own way. I’ll be okay, and so will you.

It’s been almost four years since I became fully aware that what I felt towards other guys was romantic and sexual attraction. It was less than nine months before I came out as gay online and began this latest incarnation of my blog. And in the three years since, I’ve tried to assimilate this new understanding into my identity and write about what that has meant for my life.

But it wasn’t until meeting with this counselor and enlisting his help excavating my deepest emotions that I came to realize a few important things.

I still haven’t accepted my sexuality.

I am… haunted… by the spectre of my own desires. I pretend they don’t exist. I convince myself that I don’t feel them. I convince myself so well that I forget I’m trying to hide anything. But pushing that part of myself into the darkness just makes it scarier.

I’ve split my sexuality into two pieces, separated from each other from the beginning. Growing up I innocently thought other boys were cute, but I didn’t realize that those feelings had anything to do with romance. Meanwhile I discovered the beast: new feelings and behaviors that I hid because of what religion told me about pornography and masturbation. Anything sexual was locked in a cage, growing into a powerful lion: mesmerizing to behold, but too frightening to let loose. And the rest of it, the “safe” parts that I could accept because they never strayed from the path, those parts were allowed to explore the world like a little child, going to Pride and talking about cute boys.

Now I know that the lion and the child are born from the same source. They belong together, and neither can be whole without the other. But I’m terrified to unlock the cage, because I don’t know whether the lion will kill the child or become his pet. I can’t let the bright, happy part of me be tarnished by coming in contact with the rabid beast.

Because what would that mean about me?

What would it mean to accept that I have those desires? That I’m not just an asexual child with the occasional unrequited crush, but something much more complicated and strong. What am I afraid of?

I’ve grown up being taught that sex is only for man and wife, so I need to control my desires and avoid any appearance of temptation or lust. That it’s impossible for two men or two women to truly love each other that way, because if it can’t be sanctioned by God for eternity, it’s nothing but harmful. That gay men are either promiscuous sex addicts or mentally ill. Or both. That allowing same-sex couples to be recognized as valid and equal relationships would destroy the very fabric of all that is good and right in the universe.

Some of these things were said to me by people I respect and trust, and some of them were passively absorbed over the years. But all of them have sunk deep. So, can you understand the petrifying horror of staring all of that in the face? If I admit that I want that, all the degrading hellfire and damnation I’ve associated with it becomes directed at my tender heart. I don’t know what that would me for me, how I would feel about myself.

And that’s harmful. I’ve severed one of the most powerful and sacred parts of my identity and mortal experience off and shoved it into a cage to starve and grow wild. Out of fear.

But it’s not right for me to avoid these things out of fear or hate. That’s not God’s plan: to frighten us into obedience; that’s literally Satan’s plan. God’s plan is for us to learn for ourselves and then to choose which actions to take, aware of the consequences, risks, and rewards. We aren’t supposed to be slaves, doing what we’re told because we fear the whip. We’re supposed to be disciples, following the master out of love.

I don’t know what will happen in the future, or how I’ll manage to unlock that cage. But I can’t be whole while such an important part of me is walled off from all sunlight. This is one of those first steps: acknowledging that these feelings are real, that they are my own, and that it’s okay.