MENTAL HEALTH
Our wellness series with psychotherapist Owen O’Kane
“I went on a pilgrimage to Lourdes in France, to heal my gay fantasies and become straight”
When we think of psychological trauma, we tend to think of huge life events that have been witnessed or experienced, leading, at worst, to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Although others might not experience PTSD, they may present with residual symptoms of trauma which, in short, lead to negative mental wellbeing.
We rarely think of sexuality as traumatising. But for many it is. It was for me.
Rather than blind you with the science of trauma and my professional insights, let me share some of what I know through the lens of my own story. It matches some of what the textbooks say, but with a dash of reality. I suspect many of you will identify with what I have to say.
I grew up in a working-class area of Belfast. As a teenager, being Irish, Catholic and gay wasn’t a great mix for building healthy self-esteem or fitting in. I came out in my early twenties after the anxiety of carrying the secret and feeling bad just became too much. A few panic attacks and, ironically, some therapy with an Irish Catholic nun helped wedge the closet door open for me.
I must confess that, before coming out, I went on a pilgrimage to Lourdes in France, where it is alleged the Virgin Mary appeared back in 1858. Millions of Catholics go each year to experience healing from the water near the place of the apparition. I went with a desire to heal my gay fantasies and become straight. Of course, it all went terribly wrong when two very hot French guys immersed me in the healing water. How would I ever become straight when I was having ‘bad’ thoughts about sex in a religious place?
I was doomed, or so I thought. In reality, it was the start of healing the trauma that surrounded my sexuality.
So where is the trauma in all of this? Well, in short, everywhere. My sexuality was a secret. I was a member of a church who proclaimed that “people like me” go to hell. Kids at school terrorised me regularly with taunts of “queer”, “faggot” and “bender”.
I was spat at, mocked and even attacked. I was also concerned that I was an embarrassment to my family, with my three brothers who all loved football and seemed to fit in fine.
There was naturally bewilderment on my part as to how anyone knew about my dark secret. I concluded at the time it was my piano-playing, fondness of hair products and love of the movie Grease that was the give-away.
Psychologically, though, the impact was great. It was traumatising. Years of humiliation, hiding, shame, and feeling under attack lead to some of the symptoms you expect alongside trauma: anxiety, avoidance, hypervigilance, self-blaming and a sense of not being enough.
But, as with all trauma, there was potential for a way forward and that, thankfully, happened for me. I found my tribe of people, talked about my story, and started to let go of the toxic beliefs that trauma around my sexuality had enforced on me. I realised that the symptoms I experienced as a result of trauma about my sexuality didn’t define who I was. I simply had to work on healing them. I now devote my life to working with people who experience similar struggles — whatever their story.
Coming to terms with and revealing your sexual or gender identity can be enormously challenging, and everybody’s personal circumstances differ wildly. In an ideal world, it would be amazing if people accepted us unconditionally without judgment, attack or prejudice.
But that isn’t the world we live in. Many of us have been traumatised and recognising and dealing with this is the way forward. Until we begin to heal the wounds of trauma, selfacceptance isn’t possible.
We all have a choice to accept ourselves as we are. What we are is enough and doesn’t need excuses — or healing or converting, for that matter!