Myles' Story: "I Am Enough" — Trevor Paul Johnson

By Myles Woolstenhulme

Yesterday, I became an uncle. It was a day filled with many emotions, but the one that permeated through everything was infinite and unconditional love. As I held my newborn niece and nephew in my arms for the first time and imagined each of their futures, I couldn’t bear to see them living lives in shame or secrecy. I have been living for a long time in shame. I let the fear of rejection and the fear of what other people think about me control my actions and I am finally ready to shake off those chains. I am ready to share my story with the world, even though it terrifies me, because I want my niece and nephew to be able to live their lives without the fears I have felt for so long. I know in order for me to truly wish my perfect niece and nephew happiness in their lives, I must first feel that happiness and freedom in my own life; so here it is, my story.

Saying you are gay to the world for the first time is infinitely complex and a completely unique experience. You think about it all the time and wonder how people are going to respond. For me, it is like entering a mental war zone, and wondering who of my friends and family I will still have when I come out the other side. Who is going to write little messages of encouragement on my Facebook wall and who is going to silently unfollow me? Who is going to quote scripture and words from the living prophets to me from the quiet comfort of their seemingly perfect life? Who is going to love me the same as before? I wrestle with the idea of never “coming out” publicly, but I have realized for me, that is the same as accepting I am wrong, and I know I am not wrong. I may not have all the answers, and I may not completely understand what I am going through, but I know my feelings and my emotions are real, they have value, and I am not wrong for feeling them.

I came out to my parents when I was 15 years old. That was one big day. I was so ashamed of who I was that I could not even tell my parents to their face; I waited until they were out of town then I called to tell them. I was afraid I would be rejected, dismissed, and refused compassion by the people who are supposed to love me the very most on this earth. Through my tears I promised them I would fight it, I would do whatever it takes to live a “righteous life” that my God would be proud of. I felt valiant as I swore off my natural attraction as a sin, as a trial given to me to test how obedient I could be. I grew up in a faith that conditioned me to believe my feelings were a flaw in God’s true plan of happiness, that in order to achieve eternal glory and happiness I would have to choose a life of celibacy and loneliness.

As a young teenager, scared and confused, I clung to the traditions and stale thoughts I had been soaking in for many years, I was unable to imagine a life outside of the church. I knew shunning the gay would be challenging, but I believed I would be blessed for it and “all would be made right” after I died, as if suddenly after I die I would be attracted to women and all I had to do was endure to the end of this life in order for it to happen. Luckily for me I was blessed with the most incredibly loving parents anybody could hope for. I remember my mom quietly calming me down through the phone that night and asking me what I wanted to do about it, how I wanted to live my life being attracted to people of the same sex. I told her I was going to see my spiritual leader and seek advice and counseling from a therapist. I promised her even if I couldn’t get rid of my feelings, I would never fall victim to Satan who would try and tempt me to love another man. I don’t know if I ever truly believed that promise, but it felt right at the time.

In my life I have had many passions, but none compare to the pure bliss that comes when I step into a dance studio. My entire being craves the artistry and athleticism that make up dance, it is where I am most at peace with my world. After coming out as gay to my parents, I decided giving up dancing was a sacrifice that was necessary to correcting the gay inside of me. My thought was maybe if I stopped participating in predominantly feminine activities I could somehow decrease my attraction to other males. If I stopped twirling around like a girl I could straighten myself out enough to maybe date one. The first day without dance was a relief, I was so sure my plan was going to work. What I did not know is every day after for the next three years I would sit in silence and ache for movement, for the freedom of dance that I once took for granted. I took away the one thing that made me the happiest, I chose to leave the home where I felt most safe, and the worst part of it all was I was applauded for my efforts; I was told every Sunday how brave I was being and how good of a husband and father I was going to be to my future wife and children. I was in so much pain, but I wouldn’t allow myself to see the true flaw was not with myself, but with the lies I was being fed every week in Sunday school.

After my senior year of high school I finally realized I was still attracted to guys despite every effort so I finally allowed myself to return to the studio I had once trained at. Even though I was back, something was severely different. I was not able to move as freely as I once had and I was blocked by a wall I could not see around. Every step I took was weighted down with an insecurity rooted so deep in shame I am still to this day trying to unearth it. I knew I would not be able to appreciate dance like I once had until I opened up about the feelings I was having, but I was still not ready. Instead of breaking down my wall and allowing myself to feel the warmth of acceptance and self-compassion, I returned to my old way of thinking. I decided I wanted to literally run away from my feelings, so I put in my papers to serve a mission for my church hoping that would cure me once and for all.

I got a mission call on May 26, 2014, my 19th birthday. I was almost one month into my four month performing mission in Nauvoo, Illinois at the time and was completely shaken by the idea of going on another mission. What had I done? I did not want to serve a two year mission, my performing mission was so short and I was certain I would die before it finally ended so how was I going to survive two long years? I had never once in my entire life wanted to serve a mission, it's just not who I was, so why was I on a mission in Nauvoo, and why was I about to accept a call to another mission somewhere else in the world?

In Nauvoo, IL serving as a Young Performing Missionary for the LDS Church

Declining the call is still to this day the greatest choice I could have made even though it was the hardest thing I had done up to that point in my life. After declining the call, I was terrorized weekly by my Nauvoo Mission President. When I told him I did not feel good about my mission call, he demanded I meet with him several times a month to make sure I knew the severity of my decision. In our meetings, he would quote scripture after scripture to me, he exploited my weaknesses and told me God would “bless me” if I chose to serve him by going on a mission. I cannot count how many times I cried after meeting with him.

Slowly I felt myself being eroded away by the nonstop flow of righteous sermons he spat in my face. Week after week I allowed myself to wither under the weight of his hatred until I was nothing but a hollow boy with a nametag on my heart. How could someone so high up in church ranks make me feel so unworthy of God’s love? How could he go home each day feeling good about his service when every night I questioned my worth and even imagined the world being better without me in it. The very last thing he ever said to me was “Don’t let me down, Elder,” as if I had something to prove to him.

During my four months in Nauvoo I pleaded with God to help me understand my attraction to men, I begged him to take it away. I asked for a desire to serve a mission so my mission president would stop harassing me, but I felt nothing but alone. I could not look at myself in the mirror or muster up a single good thought about myself for months because of the harsh reality I experienced in Nauvoo. I was trying so hard to give myself away in service to God so he could correct me and my attraction to men, and instead I took home nothing but pain and bitterness.

Once again my parents came to my rescue. They nursed me back to health one day at a time. I did not go to church for months and they allowed me the space I needed and a safe environment to work through my pain. Eventually I began to heal, and I noticed I was coming back stronger than ever, but not in the way I thought I was going to. From the time I came out to my parents at 15 I was sure I would gain a stronger testimony in the church and I would become stronger in my conversion to the gospel of Jesus Christ, but that was not my reality. I had lived for nearly 5 years in the deepest despair and pain I could imagine, I tortured myself daily trying to imagine a life lived without love and companionship. I tried to convince myself that is what God wanted for me but suddenly I was now realizing God wants me to be happy, and proud of who I am. I began to imagine my life with a husband, with children, with a home filled with love. I experienced a joy I had never felt before. The more I allowed myself to think of the joys of love and family the more I felt God’s love for me, something I had been missing for so long. I told my mom in the summer of 2015 I was going to start dating boys, and she told me the same thing she told me when I was 15, she would support me and love me in whatever decisions I make in my life.

This last year has been a year of experimentation and learning who I really am. I have started to live my life from a space of love and acceptance and for the first time I can say I am truly happy. I am 21 years old and living every day more authentically than the day before. There are still battles I am facing in my mind, and I’m not sure they will ever completely vanish, but I am at peace with that. I know one day I will find somebody to help me fight those battles in my mind, and that makes me more excited than anything else. I have shamelessly made dance my career and everyday I step into the dance studio I am reminded of who I am, and that I am worthy of love and true human connection. I dance my heart out, and I am happy knowing I am enough.