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My name is Jon Young and I’m from Temple Hills, Maryland, born and raised. So my story is about being a bisexual male and growing up in the ’80s and overcoming being depressed and at times suicidal.
You know, it’s interesting being in this country, if you’re suspected of being anything but straight and super macho, you’re tormented. And I know what it’s like going to school every day as a kid, especially in elementary, middle school, the beginning of high school and being “the gay kid.” And from the beginning of school to the end of the day to the bus stop, being talked about, teased, picked on, bullied, going home crying many days, expressing to my mom, “I look like everyone else, you know? I’m not really feminine or girlie, so why are people messing with me when I’ve done nothing to them?” I was every type of “gay bird”, “gay blade”, “fag”, every name you could think of, I can’t even remember half the names I heard.
It sucked…the people I was in elementary school with, I was in middle school with, I was in high school with, so they and the tormenting followed me and I remember thinking, you know what, this isn’t worth it, I want to end it all. And so my idea was, if I slit my wrist I would die quickly and it’d be over and done with. And looking back I realize that would have been a slow, painful death, not quick and easy like I thought. And we had a razor in the home and I remember going to get the razor and I remember standing in the living room by the couch. And I, you know, I’m right handed, and I had the razor in my right hand and I had my left arm and was just kind of testing it out to kind of see how I felt and I was trying to get the courage to go ahead and just slit and be, and have it over and done with, and my mom would come home and find me and I don’t have to worry about being tormented. I have to go to school, but then going to school, it was hell. Every day, all day. The playground, the bus stop… So then being in that moment…I don’t know why I didn’t, but I didn’t slit my wrist. And I’m so thankful that I didn’t because I’m at a place now where I realize, suicide is never the answer. It’s never the answer no matter what you’re going through.
NOTE: If you’re dealing with any of the similar issues Jon went through–bullying, depression, suicidal thoughts–I hope you hear his message that suicide is never the answer, no matter what. There are a lot of people out there who are willing to listen and help. One of the most prominent non-profit organizations who are very eager to listen is The Trevor Project, so please give them a call if you feel the need: 1-866-4-U-TREVOR.
I’m From Mammoth, CA: “I told myself if I was going to be such a coward to end it all, that I at least wanted to look myself in the eyes and ask myself if this is what I really want. If I really hated myself that much. So I loaded the gun, took it to the bathroom with tears in my eyes, looked at myself in the mirror, and put the gun against my head, and then decided to put in my mouth instead. I took one more look in the mirror and realized it wasn’t the answer.”
I’m From Randallstown, MD: “At home, I was depressed and angry. I hated myself, my life, my family, my friends, everything possible. When Aaron and I ceased dating, I tried to kill myself on multiple occasions, but something always went wrong. In high school, I claimed the typical gay man’s panacea upon beginning the coming out process. I was ‘bisexual.'”
I’m From Oneonta, NY: “One night, I put a bullet into the chamber of my rifle and placed the barrel into my mouth. I knew my family would be hurt and saddened by the loss, but it was better to have a dead boy who instilled pride, rather than a living boy who caused shame and embarrassment. I cannot remember how long it was that I sat there, but at some point I removed the barrel from my mouth and curled up quietly in the sweet darkness of the night.”