Fredy is a "good" man, someone who tries to bring joy to others, someone who wants to make a difference in this often cold and hostile world.
I am proud to have come to know him. He is an amazing human, an incredible man, who also is trying to make sense of it all...
Proof that out of the darkness can come light.
You can also follow him on Twitter @Piscesdreamer1
This is my coming out story. Well, I never formally came out to my Parents. My Parents actually found out, and these are the events that transpired following their discovery.
I had just turned fourteen; I was a “normal” teenager just like the rest except that I had being carrying a big secret my whole young life. I was Gay.
I knew I was different from a very young age; My Father would remind me every day since the age of five that I was “different”. He would beat and ridicule me anytime he felt that I was “acting” or talking like a girl. I grew up afraid of my own Father and endured many beatings at his hands. Dad never knew that I had been sexually abused at the age of three by family members and by a school teacher when I was in kindergarten. The molestations continued up until the age of seven. I never told my Parents anything. I was terrified of my Father.
My best friend on the block that lived next door to us had an uncle. His name was Raul. Raul was in his early twenties from what I can recall. I had a silly kid’s crush on him. I never acted on it. I would just sit in my room and write poems and love letters dedicated to him. I would dream that he would love me back and would rescue me from my Father and the beatings I endured. I wanted a way out so bad that I used to sit in my room and day dream about different scenarios on how to escape. This was just another one of those dreams.
Dad found my notebook under my mattress and read everything. Both my Mother and Father called me into my room and started to scream and cry. My Father kept screaming in my face how disappointed and angry he was in me. He kept on slapping me and kicking me over and over. It seemed like an eternity. I kept screaming for him to stop, but he wouldn’t stop. I did not know what to do. In a moment of rage I screamed at my Mother “It’s all your Brother’s fault!” Then, my Dad stopped beating me. This was the first time that I was telling them about the sexual abuse I had to endure at very young age and how their not being there had affected me so much. This set my Father into a bigger rage. He went to get his gun and told me he was going to kill me. He said that he would rather have a dead Son than a Fagot.
My Mother fought with him, but he was so angry he was not listening at all. He then went up to the roof and threatened to kill himself. He placed the gun to his head. My Mother was hysterical and was blaming me for the whole incident. My Father was ready to jump off the building. I was so scared and felt so guilty that I had put my Parents through such shame and pain.
My Father decided that he would take matters into his own hands and called my Uncle to come to our house. My life as I knew had turned into a bigger hell than the one I had been living since the age of three. My Uncle denied the whole thing and told my Father that it was all my fault. I was a Fagot and the whole block knew it and talked about it. I couldn’t believe that the nightmare he (my Uncle) had made me live for years were suddenly my fault. It made me question if everything I remembered was fake. How could it be possible? I knew it was true. I felt so powerless yet again. It was a feeling I knew too well.
The weeks and months that followed the incident were very tough on me. My Parents stopped talking to me and they ignored me for like a month. I was not allowed to go out by myself anymore. Anytime I had to go do the grocery shopping for the house, I had to either take my eight year old brother or my youngest sister. Both of whom I took care of like I was their Father. In fact my sister’s first words were Fredy. I have a special bond with both my siblings till this day.
My Father thought that in order for him to “fix” me he would send me to seminary school to become a priest. He said that I was going to go to hell and that God was the only one that could help him. He said him, because Dad’s biggest concern was always what others would think and say about him. He was more concerned with his reputation than in my well being.
I was enrolled in seminary school at the age of fourteen. I was the best student and got good grades. I prayed everyday to God for him to change me. I would cry in my room at night asking God why I had to be Gay. I had been beaten and ridiculed my whole life by my Father and the kids in the neighborhood; I did not want to have these feelings anymore. I tried and tried. I prayed and prayed, but nothing would change. I was so confused I had (have) so much faith in God I couldn’t understand why God was not listening to me.
Then finally one day I decided to accept the fact the God did love me and that I had been born this way. I felt that all the pain that I suffered was meant to be so I could help other kids with similar struggles. If my story and all the hardships can help change just ONE person’s life, than my life has had purpose and I’m closer to achieving my mission in life.
It took me years to come to terms with it, but please know if you are reading this, that anything is possible and once we conquered our feelings and thought on how we see ourselves, life will change for the better. I now know this.
Fredy Verdin PiscesDreamer