Becoming Somebody When You Feel Like a Gay Nobody

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My cousins used to joke with me that when I was little and they asked me what my name was, I’d answer, “Nobody.”
What an existential thinker my 8-year-old self was.

The Struggle of Feeling Alienated from Yourself

The world says we’re nobody until we make something of ourselves.

But what is that if you’re someone who’s been put down, bullied, traumatized, rejected, abandoned, or singled out for being gay?

What if you’ve been told you’re not enough the way you are already?

That’s something I really struggled with for a long time. And often it was accompanied by this weird feeling of nothingness inside.

I wasn’t worthy of what I so desperately needed: love and validation.

Attempting to Fix What Isn’t Broken

One New Year’s Eve as a teen, I resolved to stop being gay. In my mind, gay meant something bad or dirty about me. Something that made me unworthy of love or acceptance.

I had to stop being that.

Of course, I woke up the next day and found nothing had changed. Nothing except the deep dislike I had for myself.

I call that a shame-based resolution. The kind of resolution designed not to help you grow, but to fix something you believe is inherently broken about yourself.

The only thing it can do is deepen the shame you feel when you fail.

For me, resolving to stop being gay was about desperately wanting to be lovable, acceptable, and “normal.” It hinged on a belief that there was something wrong with me.

I can’t help but wonder how many of us make resolutions like that.

Resolutions rooted in what we’ve been taught to hate about ourselves and aimed at ridding the parts society deems unacceptable.

We tell ourselves that if we could just stop being too [fill in the blank], we’d finally be welcome. But the things we’re trying to change aren’t flaws—they’re the unique traits, personality, and characteristics that make us who we are.

As a teenager, I didn’t have the capacity to understand that. I thought fixing the gay part was the answer.

Overcompensating to Prove You’re Enough

Throughout my adult life I attempted to tack on things that made me appear to be something.

Clothes. Vacations. Experiences. Even certain attitudes and religious behavior.

Alan Downs talks about this in his book, The Velvet Rage:

“We were taught by the experience of shame during those tender and formative years of adolescence that there was something about us that was flawed, in essence unlovable, and that we must go about the business of making ourselves lovable if we are to survive.”

I didn’t like myself and I didn’t think anyone else would either unless I was someone else.

And then when I came out and threw my hat into the dating ring, holy crap!

I had to compete with guys who traveled the world, looked amazing, had unbelievable adventures with friends, and were self-actualized in every imaginable way.

What I came to realize, both in myself and those around me, is that none of those things said anything about us on the inside.

The things were bright, shiny, and attractive enough to hook someone in, but not substantial enough to keep them from wriggling off that line.

We see it all the time, don’t we?

“Look at me! Look at me! I’m special. I’m SOMEBODY.”

And all it is, is someone doing a hot little 30-second dance on Reels or Tik Tok.

Or a buff body sitting next to a pool in Mexico.

Or someone checking in at the gym with blindingly white teeth and perfectly coiffed hair standing in front of a mirror with just a towel around their waist And you’re like, “Why can’t I be somebody, too?”

Turning Self-Acceptance Into a Meaningful Journey

For me, the road to gay self-acceptance was full of switchbacks and turnarounds on a steep climb.

I had to address the actual issues underpinning my unhappiness. Things like insecurity, loneliness, resentment, and jealousy. Everything that poked at the feeling of not being enough.

Something I grew to appreciate along the way ironically had to with a New Year’s tradition I developed.

The holiday itself is probably one of my favorites of the year. It represents a clean slate, a chance to start over, make a deliberate improvement, get better at something or try something new.

Going from Meaningless to Meaningful

I use the days leading up to New Year’s Eve for some heavy-duty looking back, evaluating things I did (or didn’t do) the past year.

Those things might be work or career-related accomplishments, places I visited, ways I challenged myself, stuff I learned, etc.

I take stock of everything I did, mainly to prove to myself that I wasn’t standing still.

Life can feel pretty myopic when you don’t give yourself time to reflect on the past in a meaningful way.

Living for the moment is great, but without the context of knowing where you’ve been, what you’ve struggled with, and if or how you got through to the other side of it, the days can start feeling pretty meaningless after a while.

String a bunch of meaningless days together long enough and you could end up feeling cynical, bitter, down, maybe even hopeless about life and prospects for a better future.

I think as humans we really need a sense of progression in life. And the only person capable of giving it to you is yourself.

Connecting Self-Acceptance with Fulfillment

From the days I spent in self-reflection came new ideas for how I might improve the following year.

One of the biggest gifts I gave myself by going through the process was the feeling of personal agency.

I’ve shared this story numerous times, but one year I decided I was going to invite different groups of people to my home for dinner. I wanted to foster a sense of community with people because a few months prior one of my friends had taken his life. I wanted to do something meaningful.

It was really uncomfortable because I didn’t feel like I was good enough to have certain people in my home. Afterall, I didn’t have great artwork on the walls (I didn’t have anything on the walls, for that matter).

Neither did I have a formal dining room. The dishes were chipped. Not all the silverware matched.

You get the idea.

In a very real way, my home was an extension of myself. How could anyone accept me if I didn’t have it all together?

It was my first lesson in vulnerability and the important relationship it has with self-acceptance.

What amazed me about the experience was the feeling of growth and fulfillment I felt pushing through my fears of connection.

My place felt more like home as I started to feel more at home with myself.

The interesting thing is it all felt like the fruit of my often clumsy and awkward way of trying to make a difference. I didn’t realize how it would change me and make me into a better, less restricted and more secure version of myself.

Discovering the “Somebody” You’ve Been All Along

Isn’t it funny that that’s what most of us are striving for when we’re thinking about who we want to be in the new year? A better, more improved version of ourselves?

Instead of trying to load myself up with all the external-based trappings of fulfillment in order to “get” love and acceptance from others, I found a way to give love and acceptance to others by channeling it into the dinners I hosted.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but something came through it that helped me find what I was looking for along the way. It was a sense of fullness that made those fleeting feelings of nothingness dissipate.

The yearly practice of self-evaluation multiplied into other endeavors that carried me further along my growth journey, each requiring me to lay down more of my perceived flaws in exchange for more authentic and vulnerable relating.

But through it all, I found that in letting go of trying to be “somebody” to everyone around me, I was able to welcome and accept the genuine guy inside and let him be the somebody I’d always longed to be—someone who isn’t broken and is already enough just as he is.

Perhaps that’s the real journey for all of us: not changing to fit someone else’s ideal, but discovering and embracing who we’ve been all along.


Disclaimer: The information and perspectives shared in my posts, articles, and videos are based on my personal experiences and reflections. I am not a licensed therapist, counselor, or medical professional, and this content should not be considered a substitute for professional advice. If you are experiencing distress, depression, or mental health challenges, please reach out to a qualified professional who can provide the help you need. For immediate support, contact a mental health provider or, if you are in crisis, please call the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 (available in the U.S.) or your local emergency number.

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