How To NOT Be Straight✓

12: Rule 4- Be Strong

The following week that followed was hectic; getting a few more club members, organizing conversation topics, managing my studies as well. I had to meet with Mr Dale and talk to him about our very first meeting, and talked about how there was someone in the school trying to stop the progression of the club for some odd reason. That didn't discourage me though, a lot of things can't get under my skin if I don't let them. Chloe and Emily helped me decorate Mr Dale's classroom accordingly for our meetings to take place each Wednesday afternoon. I had public speaking on Mondays, so it didn't really clash with anything. It's a lazy ass Saturday today, and I didn't have any bullshit to worry myself with other than the club and my homework.

Right now, I'm about to do the impossible; ask my dad for advice.

I stare at him as he reads the daily newspaper that gets delivered to us every morning. He isn't paying attention to me, and after a moment of hesitation and recollecting my words, I finally speak up.

"Dad?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine."Yes, daughter?"

"Um, I need a bit of advice." I muttered. "Like, not about Christianity or anything, something normal."

He removed his glasses, and replied. "So Christianity isn't normal to you?"

"Dad, I don't want to argue right now, we always have tonight." I sighed. "I just need some advice about self discovery and strength... preferably not related to the bible if you may?" I plead. "Please?"

"What do you need?"

"I managed to start a club at school, a social rights club." I said slowly, avoiding his eyes. "And I thought I could get some advice on how to approach it."

"What do you mean a social rights club?"

"I want to fight for what I believe in. To fight against social stigmas, to create..a change, dad." I finally gained the courage to look him in the eye. "And I don't know how to approach it well. I'm a little scared of the future, like what will happen if I don't get the positive reaction I'd like-"

"What social stigmas are you fighting against, Cameron?"

System error, Cameron.exe has shut down.

I dreaded that question. Even though I was fully prepared for whatever came my way when he asked his questions, I wasn't completely ready to answer this one.

"You know...things like the LGBTQ community and-"

"Cameron, you want advice on how to fight against God's word?" He asked me, shutting me up immediately. "The word says that homosexuals are an abomination and you want to fight against it?"

"No dad, it was an-"

"So you actually support the community of people who are okay with going to hell? Cameron?" He asked again, standing up. "You made a club where you talk about abomination like it's a normal thing-!"

"Dad, I said it was an example!" I yelled, standing up as well. "I don't care if it's regarded as an abomination to Christians, what I do care about is how people like you treat it!"

He placed a hand on his head. "Good Lord, what daughter have you given me?"

"He's given you a daughter that believes in what's right-"

"Like supporting that stupid community? Have you lost your mind, Cameron? Those people are comfortable with going to hell and burning for the rest of their lives!" He screamed at me, making me take a step back. "And you want to support them?"

If only he knew that I'm one of them.

"It's better than supporting a pastor that has a lot to say about something that they don't understand." I said quietly. "It's alright dad, I'll wait for mom to get home and ask her." I walked away from the lounge.

"Cameron-"

"It's okay dad, I understand." I said, not turning back.

~~~~~~~~~~

I never knew how much parental support ever mattered in someone's life. Or how much any support matters in your life. It never crossed my mind until today. Whether it's from your mom, your sister, your friend or even your teacher, knowing that someone supports you is enough to keep someone going.

Now who the hell is supporting me?

We all need to be shown love and support, and all I want is that from my own family. But it's so difficult when you know that they won't understand or care about what you need because it doesn't resonate with what they need. I've just been given more reasons on not to come out to them, and I've just been given a big fuck you to the face by my own father. If rejection by your own family indirectly isn't your first heartbreak, then I don't know what is.

My mom opened the door, and closed it quietly. She sat besides me, and took my hand while I kept my eyes closed, preventing the tears from falling.

"Cameron." She whispered, and pulled my head gently onto her shoulder. "What's wrong, my baby?"

I wanted to tell her, I wanted to tell her everything. To tell her how strong I look on the outside but how vulnerable I am on the inside. How each insult hurled at me every single day tears me apart little by little. How I lost those that I cared about because they didn't understand how I felt. How each and every day I feel myself slipping further away from reality. I wanted to tell her all of it, but...

But how do you tell someone all that when you know that they won't understand? When you know that they'll judge you? When you know that they'll look at you differently and even dissociate from you?

"How do I stay strong, mom?" I said, my voice cracking mid sentence. "I feel like I'm getting weaker by the day."

"Cameron, is there something that you're not telling me?" She asked. "I'm worried."

"You wouldn't understand, mom, I know you won't." A hot tear slipt down my cheek as I closed my eyes. "I can't tell you."

"Honey, I'm sorry for whatever is bothering you, but if you still need advice on staying strong, here's some." She rubbed my side gently. "This journey called life isn't an easy one for anyone. And we all feel like giving up at some point, but you want to know what I always tell myself? I tell myself to keep moving, because whatever happens, happens for a reason. God will never put an obstacle that he knows you won't overcome, he never does it. So, my sweet Cammie, don't lose hope, wipe those tears away, and keep moving, okay?" I didn't answer, and she continued rubbing my back a bit. "I'll just continue rubbing like this so that you can feel better, and when you're okay, you're going to cheer up and put on that cute but loud Cameron again, okay baby?"

I didn't answer again, and she continued rubbing my side as the tears flowed freely. Why I'm crying? I don't even know anymore.