I am not happy.

When I came out of closet and told mother that I am gay, she came out of her closet of homophobia and threatened me with corrective rape with a gang of men in order to allegedly change my sexuality. What should I do about it? I am not able to move on from this and it is making it difficult for me to decide whether I should go back to the place in a month after my MBBS graduation where I was threatened like that. That place never felt like home to me and it still doesn’t because I am not able to live my honest self there, be my true self around anyone. I don’t want to live in a closet anymore in the family. 

Do you really not see me hurting? Do you really not see me in pain and agony and frustration?

Mother sends me money for pocket money. She agrees to pay my post graduate college fees if necessary. I only feel to have connection with her through her money and nothing else at all. I want to feel connected with her through her love, empathy, kindness, acceptance and warmth for me. Am I wrong in expecting that?

I am not happy. I have anxiety, depression, hypertension, diabetes and pancreatitis. I don’t want to deal with mother’s hatred and non acceptance for me. What should I do about it? I don’t want to run away. I want parents to love me, accept me, live with me and give me opportunity to help them back when needed. I don’t want to leave them. Do they wish me to leave them? Do they wish me to be not happy? Do they wish me to suffer in pain forever? Do they wish to see me suffocate and kill myself? I won’t do it. I will not leave them. I will not run away. I will not kill myself. Those are my wishes. What are theirs?

What do I need? I need parents to stop me from burning. I need them to give me water instead of more fuel. I need them to stop hating me. I need them to give me reason to love them, other than their money. 

I want to become a caring doctor. Their hatred is a big hurdle I cannot jump across. I want this hurdle of hatred to go away so that I can be filled with more love and care and warmth and become a more caring and worthy doctor. 

They always ask me what am I worried about all the time. I always argue with them about not having my own room in their home. I realise, my argument is not about a literal room in their home, but it is truly about having a room for me in their hearts. That’s what saddens me. That’s what I cry about literally every single damn day. 

I’m grateful for their money. I’m grateful for every effort they have taken to give me education. Am I selfish or wrong to demand more than their money? Am I wrong to demand a room for me in their heart? What should I do to help parents understand me better? How should I convince them to love me more? 

All these thoughts are occupying my mind all the time. Now I know why such greater percentage of LGBTQ+ kids in the world are depressed and suicidal.