Pride.

If you didn't know, June is Pride Month. This title means different things to different people, but this is my blog, so I'm going to share what it means to me. :)

Lots of gays struggle with their initial admission of being gay. For some, it's a self-discovery process. I remember looking in the mirror, staring into my own eyes, and not recognizing myself in the reflection. The "me" staring back in the sliding mirror that my parents have had since I was three was the gay me. Growing up, that mirror had helped me pop pimples, examine my teeth, and style my hair. That mirror had also blown up my self-perceived flaws -- the wrinkles on my face, the misshapen eyebrows, the slightly lower left eye that could only be noticed if I stopped tilting my head to compensate for it --  but on that day, the relentless, critical mirror that I both appreciated and scorned year after year introduced me to someone that I wanted to get to know. The gay me came out to me that day and I took my first step with myself -- the first step on the bumpy road to self acceptance. There are a fucking ton of steps on that road and, to be honest with you, that road has no end. It's littered with things that make me trip and stumble, but I always have myself -- in a strange, metaphorical way -- to grab my hand and help me back on my feet. I have myself to say, "Lift your chin up and bring a smile into this world." When you can only see the flaws in the mirror, you forget about the things that make you you, and you are something to be proud of.

Coming out to someone is the stop-motion moment when seconds take hours and ten minutes takes twelve years. It's the conversation with anyone -- including yourself -- where the absence of an immediate response suctions a vacuum of silence that suffocates the very lungs that have already exhausted all of their air whispering one small contraction and a three letter word into the ears of uncertainty. "I'm gay." takes more oxygen than the combination of infinite breaths and trying to inhale feels like choking on water. Sometimes you're inhaling the salty ocean and sometimes you're inhaling a stagnant puddle. As the conversations come and go, so do the waves and ripples, but they seem to get a bit more manageable as you come to realize that emotion replenishes itself just as a body of water does. Each admission of identity is something to take pride in.

You'll get negative reactions, you'll have to fight for your right to put a label on your sexuality, and you'll face some of the darkest times of your life. You'll be damaged by someone you care about and you'll hurt the person closest to you. But through all of this, you'll build your own family -- albeit, an often degenerate and reckless one -- and have a support system that celebrates you for who you are, whether that's gay or straight or a 4.6 on the Kinsey scale. You'll grow in a community where the very same sexuality label you've dutifully worn for years on end has its letters fade just as the pages of an unread book yellow and fray. You'll find that you don't need to wear your label any more. There will come a point where you'll meet a person that sends you to the stars, and you'll stay awake and fight to keep your eyes open because falling asleep means you'll be without that person until you rise again. Above all, I assure you that there will come a moment when you'll look in that chipped, sliding mirror and feel like you've known the person in the reflection for your entire life. You'll be proud to see yourself and that, my friends, is what Pride Month means to me.

Happy Pride.