I was 19 years old - from West Virginia - now Colorado .
Living alone in Indiana — far from my family, far from anything familiar.
I was working as a conductor for the railroad, trying to keep it together on the outside… but quietly falling apart on the inside.
I grew up Pentecostal (Church 3-4x per week) in West Virginia.
Being gay wasn’t just unaccepted — it was unspoken.
Something you were supposed to pray away. Something that meant you were “wrong.”
There was no 988 back then.
No Trevor Project.
No one I could call.
And no one I trusted enough to tell what I was going through.
So one day, it all got to be too much.
I walked into a hospital and checked myself in — not because I had the words for what was wrong, but because I just didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.
I sat there for hours while they tried to figure me out.
But I couldn’t tell them the truth.
I couldn’t tell them I was gay.
Because even in that place — even at my breaking point — I was still too afraid to say it out loud.
By the end of that day, I finally understood:
There was nothing wrong with me.
I was just gay.
And scared.
And alone.
I made it out.
But I’ll never forget how close I came to not.
That’s why suicide hotlines matter.
Because sometimes all it takes is one voice.
One person picking up the phone and saying, “You’re not broken. You’re not alone. You’re going to get through this.”
And now Trump wants to take that away?
No. Absolutely not.
We can’t go back to a time when kids like me had no one.
No hotline. No help. No hope.
I survived.
But no one should have to survive the way I did.
Protect 988. Protect crisis lines. Protect the next kid sitting in silence, wondering if it’s worth it to keep going.
Because they are.
And so was I. If someone doesn't say it’s ok… You don’t feel safe.
Option #3 Matters
#Protect988 #LGBTQLivesMatter #TrevorProject #SuicidePrevention #StillHere #MentalHealthMatters #PentecostalAndGay #YouAreNotAlone #PrideMonth