Perspective from a troubled mind

Sorry if this is long...

It started in the tide of a volcanic sand beach on the shores of Guatemala. And no, I'm not being poetic, it really did. I was standing letting the violent pacific waves wash over my feet and even dare to climb up and wet my shorts as I let my mind run. It wasn't scary and stressful running like it usually is, it just sort of was. She came over to talk to me, the group leader of our mission. She is tall, in her early thirties, plain but pretty. This was my fourth time on mission with her and she has become someone who I trust and whose company I enjoy. We talked about some of the stresses in her life, which I will not go into as they are not my story to tell, as well as the stresses in my life regarding my brother and my Dad's job change and everything. I told her about overcoming depression, I told her about insomnia and the one or two panic attacks I had in the weeks before embarking on mission. She asked me what it was that was triggering them. I told the truth, but was very aloof about it. She told me that. I said that it was because life was compounding very fast in that things that are meant to happen in spaces are happening all at once. She asked more questions, trying to draw the real issue from my mouth. Is it about boys? Well, yes in a way. Girls? A flat no this time. I don't know why I said no, it was just a default setting in my brain. Eventually we were interrupted after a few more minutes, and she knew she wasn't about to make me talk. For the rest of the day I found myself wondering why I didn't tell her. I trust her, right? I decided I did. I decided I would tell her if I got the opportunity, but only if the opportunity came to me.
Four days later, the night before we are scheduled to leave, I go up to her room. I needed to get my passport for the next morning, as she had collected them for safe keeping during the trip, as well as some medication for my stomach which was churning violently as I had fallen sick a day or two before. I took the medication, which makes me a lot worse before making me a lot better, and stood outside of the room for a little. The hotel we were in was open air and the night was nice so I stood out over the railing to try to calm my stomach a little bit. About fifteen minutes later she came up the stairs, which conveniently lead almost directly to the door of her room, and walked over to stand by me, where I was still half doubled over looking out onto the skyline.
"You don't want to leave Guatemala, do you?" she says calmly. "No, not really, but there are things I miss at home too, so that will be nice to go back to." We stand in silence for the next few minutes. This is my moment, I tell myself. Now, to understand the way I was feeling you have to keep in mind that I was already fiercely nauseous from the combination of sickness and medication. The nausea increased ten fold to a level I didn't even think was possible, my knees weakened and threatened to give out below me had I not been hanging onto the railing, my limbs serged with any combination of nerves and adrenaline, my hands shook, and my brain throbbed with a complete overload. She turned to me and said, simply, honestly, calmly, in a way that I could not dodge, "What's going on?"
So I told her. I told her why I liked Guatemala mission so much that I had become so heavily involved in it at such a young age. I explained that the whole past year has been about questions. It's been about trying to reconcile who I am with who I really am and want to be and figure out how that all fits into my life. It's been about making discoveries and finding things out that I'm not always sure I would like to know at this point in my life. Yet while all of that was going on, I was doing things for other people. I was working for the church on search committee, I was working on center city mission, and I was leading the efforts towards Guatemala in my church. Then in coming back to Guatemala and hearing the stories and seeing the people and the places that I knew so well, it helped me realize that those things are what matters in my life and the questions are just questions and the stressing about who I am is less important. She agrees with me about how great this experience is, and how great it is that our diocese opens that door to our youth. She tells me that the questions will always be there, that she is going through identity struggle and questions still as an adult. She tells me that the questions are just a part of life. We sit in silence for a few moments.
Then she just asks me straight up, "What's happening?" I take a deep breath, pause, my knees start to buckle and my stomach lurches. I remember the things that people in my online support networks have told me about how to go about this moment. I remember their encouraging words and stories of success. But those people are not there now. They are not here to hold my hand and tell me it will be alright. I am not in my bedroom in the darkest hours of the night searching for relief for my tortured mind. The moment is here. After a few seconds, which feels more like an hour, I say simply, "fuck it..... I'm gay."
Her response is not flustered or angry, she is calm and gentle as she asks, although her voice barely reveals that she is asking a question, "you are?" I don't remember if I just nodded or actually formed my lips around the word yes, but there it was. She lets her mind process the information for a second as it sinks into my own brain what I just told her. She keeps her calm voice as she asks me her questions. Have you ever been intimate with girls? No. What about boys? Yes, but not like sex or anything. Have you talked to your parents about this at all? No. I don't want to and I don't really feel like I need to. If I tell them they will make it a big deal. I don't want that because it's not a big deal. How is your school about being accepting? Ok I guess. There is as much good as bad. But I don't really care because I would rather wait to come out in an environment that is more open and doesn't stress it so much. Anyway I am totally game to skip over the whole 'suicidal gay teen' phase. How have you been finding help about this? I found some really good online communities where people who are going through the same thing and parents of gay teens and people who have been through it in the past post and give support and advice. She tells me of a place she knows nearer to the city where she lives that is really good. Maybe one day I'll check it out if I am down that way. She says that it is important to keep up my relationship with my brother when he is gone. I know that, and I know that we are too close to ever truly separate even if we drift away for a little while. We talked some about other stuff with Guatemala and some things in her life. After a little while she says she has to go pack, so she will leave me to ponder. She gives me a hug and says, "you always were my favorite, by the way."
The reality of that night is still sinking in. I can't even describe how utterly terrified and sick I felt, and that was to someone I was 99% sure would be ok with it and I trust. Maybe it will be easier next time, but more than likely not. I'm ok with that though. This is the road I'm on and there's no point trying to fight it anymore. Harvey Milk said, "We must destroy the myths once and for all. We must continue to speak out and most importantly every gay person must come out. As difficult as it is, you must tell your family, you must tell your relatives, you must tell your friends, you must tell your neighbors, you must tell the people you work with, you must tell the people in the stores you shop in, and once they realize that we are indeed their children and that we are indeed everywhere, every myth, every lie, every innuendo will be destroyed once and for all. And once you do you will feel so much better." Do I feel better now? In varying degrees, yes. I don't know when the next time I will be in that situation is, but that's ok. This is going to take time, it is going to take trust and confidence, and it is going to take more bravery than I ever imagined. But in the end, if I can stick out this process over the coming years and take each next step when I truly know I am ready, then it will make it that much easier for the gay teenagers who will come after me. And that should make it all worth it. I will be closeted for a while longer, but in the end I know and I can't fight it. So in the end the people around me should know, and perhaps more of the world will start to see that they can't fight it either, and that is perfectly ok.
Am I gay? yes, but that doesn't matter. In the end if that is the only footprint I have left in this world in the minds of my friends and family, then my life will not have been worth living. My homosexuality is only a small thread in the greater fabric of who I am. What matters in my life is the people I help and the things I learn and what I make of this precious gift of life. I have a responsibility to be a better person and do everything I can to manifest peace and love among the people of this earth, although I am small and insignificant compared to this great world. I have a purpose here, and it is not to wage war on religion or try to cover the world in rainbows or god knows what. Am I gay? yes, but that doesn't matter.