“I had no problem with other people being gay, but I hated myself for it.”

I’m illegal in 32 countries. There’s no positive way to frame that. Regrettably, we live in a prejudiced world, and I know I won’t see that change for people who are gay or trans in my lifetime. So I thought I’d share my thoughts on being queer and mentally ill.

I am unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a label I hate. I’m not sure I agree it’s a fit for my problems, but I’m female with a history of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms, so I didn’t stand much of a chance when I entered the mental health system some years ago.

My relationship with BPD is complex. Since I’ve had the label, everything I do is judged through it; if I get angry it’s because my personality is disordered and I therefore must be overreacting, or have unstable relationships. If my peers were to express the same anger, their feelings would be normalised. This dynamic certainly applies to being gay and having a BPD diagnosis too- professionals use it as a weapon against me to claim I have an unstable identity and difficult relationships, but being queer is no mental illness.

There is a higher rate of mental illness and suicide in the LGBTQ+ community though. Not only do people have to navigate dysphoria, but we live in a society full of judgement. It’s 2021 and still people have to worry about being rejected by the very people that love them the most and go through the trauma of living in the closet and/or coming out.

I’ve had mental health problems since childhood. I had depression and anxiety in primary school, not helped by endless years of bullying, but it was in high school that my sexuality and identity started to emerge.

I grew up in a homophobic family and my peers were no better. I ended up feeling utterly alone with my feelings and just generally avoided anything to do with relationships. I was a footballer and played various other sports, so my parents always worried that I was a lesbian, and they sure let me know their disapproval, so I never allowed myself the opportunity to explore my own identity and sexuality. The worst part of it was that I grew up homophobic towards myself too. I had no problem with other people being gay, but I hated myself for it. I buried any feelings I had to the opposite sex and just focussed on my attraction to boys. I was just like my family; ‘not in my back yard’.

It was in my twenties that I really explored my sexuality and eventually my gender identity. I discovered there was a name for how I was attracted to people. I was attracted to people of all genders and initially thought I was bisexual, but I heard about pansexuality and immediately knew that was me. Bisexuality is being attracted to both male and females, but I was also attracted to people who were trans and didn’t fit in the gender binary either, so pansexuality covered this.

This is also why I identify as non-binary. I don’t believe we fit neatly into male or female categories and that it’s just a social construct. It’s been liberating too, to just be myself. After years of growing up as a tomboy and not fitting in enough as a girl or boy, I finally understood where I fit in the world.

I think for many people, we are pressured into figuring out who we are and putting it in to a label, but in the end this is only what other people want so they can make sense of us. It was only when I stopped trying to apply labels to myself that I realised how to be queer as an individual, and as part of a community.

Most people come out to their close family and friends first, as they think it will be easier and that people are more likely to accept and support them. But for me, I kind of did it backwards. I started going into queer spaces. The anonymity of being with strangers who understood helped me find out who I was and also manage my mental health. Being around people who understand is priceless. Slowly, I started coming out to friends, but I didn’t have a big coming out phase in my life, it was more gradual than that, with many bumps along the road.

Growing up with internalised homophobia meant that I hated myself and everything about me. I’ve had to unlearn that over the years, and it was a huge contribution to my eating disorder. I’ve had bulimia since I was 10 years old and much of this revolves around my body image. I have zero body confidence and very low self esteem, all of which have caused significant mental distress over the years. It’s even made me suicidal because I felt I couldn’t live with myself. I used to be ashamed about who I was, but this has changed, albeit slowly.

I met the love of my life when I was 14. We got together when we were 18 and I was with him until he passed away in his late twenties. He knew and accepted me for who I was. Being in a straight relationship meant that I was shielded for a long time from the issues surrounding coming out.

It’s only now that I’m in a same sex relationship that I’ve had to navigate the woes of coming out. It didn’t go well with my family and I retreated into the closet, deciding that it’s not worth pursuing.

Things aren’t perfect- I’m still trying to learn how to love myself, I still need support with my mental health, but I’m getting there. Don’t be afraid to ask for support, find your allies in your friends and the LGBTQ+ community and remember: ‘You are enough’.