Dear Trying to Find My Way,
Dear Norm,
My family has a stated belief that being gay = going to hell. It's not spoken often, but it is always an undercurrent for me. It has made it difficult to have any kind of relationship with them, and in more recent years I've intentionally stepped away from interacting.
The heartbreaking part is that my 96-year-old mom has dementia, and my brother, sister, and I work together to support her. It's fine, but frustrating! It is an obligation, and I handle the financial and paperwork needs so my brother isn't stuck with it. (It's my sister that is the "go to hell" believer.)
The guilt and frustration is getting heavy. What should I do?
Signed, Trying to Find My Way
Dear Trying to Find My Way
First, I need you to hear something, even if you don't believe it today.
You did not lose your worth because your parents couldn't see it.
Coming out didn't make you less lovable. It simply revealed a truth that was already there. Their response belongs to them, not to you.
I wish I could tell you there was a sentence I could write that would erase the hurt of being rejected by the people who raised you. There isn't. Family rejection leaves a wound that doesn't heal overnight, and pretending otherwise would be dishonest.
You're grieving.
Not just the loss of a home, but the loss of the future you imagined. The phone calls you thought you'd have. The holidays you pictured. The version of your parents you hoped would meet you with open arms.
It's okay to mourn that.
But I also want you to know something many of us in this community learn, sometimes earlier than we'd like.
Family can be something you're born into.
It can also be something you build.
One day, you'll look around a dinner table filled with friends who know your whole story and love you anyway. Someone will call to check on you for no reason. Someone will save you a seat. Someone will celebrate your birthday because they want to, not because they have to.
You'll discover that love isn't measured by DNA. It's measured by who shows up.
That doesn't mean you stop loving your parents. It doesn't mean you stop hoping they'll grow. Some do. Some don't. Leave the door unlocked if that feels right for you, but don't stand in the doorway waiting for someone who isn't ready to walk through it.
In the meantime, take care of the person your parents couldn't.
You.
Find safe people. Accept help without apologizing for needing it. If you're couch surfing, connect with local LGBTQ+ organizations that can help with housing, counseling, and support. Asking for help isn't weakness. It's what communities are for.
And one more thing.
You asked if telling them was a mistake.
No.
Living honestly is never the mistake. The mistake is believing that someone else's inability to love you determines whether you're worthy of love.
It doesn't.
You've already survived the hardest part. Now comes the slower work of building a life that feels like home.
And I have a feeling you're going to build a beautiful one.
There's always a place for you on the porch.
Who gets to decide what's normal, anyway?
Life has a way of asking questions with no easy answers. Dear Norm is where we talk about them. "Norm" is short for normal because, around here, we believe normal isn't something you fit into; it's something you define for yourself. If you're wrestling with love, family, identity, faith, friendship, or anything in between, we'd love to hear from you. Submit your question, and let's start the conversation.
A Little Note Before You Write
Dear Norm is a place for honest questions, thoughtful perspectives, and conversations that matter. While we believe sharing experiences and offering advice has real value, Norm's responses are meant to provide perspective, not professional counseling or guidance.
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Because sometimes the most important advice is knowing when to ask for a little more help.
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