Hi, @ginnysnow

And welcome! You've been going through a lot. I know it's become a bit of a cliché, but "it does get better." It did for me, even though there was a time when I thought it couldn't possibly "get better." I, too, struggled because of a mismatch between my older brother and me. My older brother (14 years older than me, so almost like a second father) was a super athlete. I was the opposite. I was the family book-worm. Being a book-worm, I was able to hide away in my room; my parents, thinking, 'Oh, that's just the way he is,' left me alone. What my parents had no way of knowing, though, was that I wasn't just hiding away with my books; I was also hiding away with My Secret. I never did manage to come out to my parents. I never managed to come out to my friends, either. Of course, as a book-worm, hiding away in my room as I did, I never made many friends. I had the impression, all throughout my teen years, that my parents didn't worry much about my not wanting to make friends with the boys on our street––except for one time: I was going off to Sunday Mass with my father, when we saw four or five of the neighborhood boys approaching us. Apparently I frowned, and my father saw my frown. To this day, I remember him saying to me, "What the f*ck is wrong with you?" Did I answer him? Did I answer him honestly? Of course not! I would continue to keep My Secret for several more years. When, in my late 20's, when I'd actually acquired a circle of friends, and I told these friends, they were 100% supportive. Had I'd made friends earlier with the boys on the street, and told them, would they have been supportive? I doubt it. Of course, I'll never know for sure, but still I doubt it. And had I told my parents––would they have understood? I'll never know; maybe they would have, but then again maybe they wouldn't have. Here, too, I'll never know.

I hope you'll keep posting, @ginnysnow. I wish you tons of happiness.

Cheers!
Ray (@ray666)