Is it Possible to Become Straight?

I think so. Here's my story.

I’m a guy, but I don’t like girls. Is it possible to change?

It’s a question I’ve grappled with for some time. Up until fairly recently, if you would’ve asked me this question I would’ve said no. I might have even been offended by the idea. Because I had tried. And it certainly didn’t feel possible.

But today, my answer would be different. So, what’s changed? I want to briefly outline my journey. Maybe it’ll be helpful.

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I know how outrageous it sounds — that someone can change their sexual orientation. For a long time, I didn’t believe I could change; and some days it still doesn’t feel possible. But I’ve been on this journey for about 5 years at this point. That’s 5 years of me actively trying to steer my life and fight my own doubts. I’m finally at the point where I can at least write about it now. But change is slow and imperceptible. And it happens in ways people might not expect.

It took me many years to even acknowledge my sexuality. I spent so much of my early life ignoring, burying and running from feelings I didn’t understand. In practice, what that looked like was me overachieving in school and work. In hindsight it was really a distraction from the emptiness inside. After some time, I realized I was coming up on two paths: give in or grit my teeth and live a celibate life. But I didn’t want either. I want to have a wife and kids. And I want to be genuinely attracted to her. But I just wasn’t there.

I think the beginning of my journey started with acknowledging where I was and believing I could change. It’s more difficult than it sounds — believing you can change. Especially when institutions and society at large don’t believe it’s possible. In fact, they’ll tell you that it’s internalized homophobia, that you’re in denial, or that you’re just suppressing your true self. They’ll say it’s immoral and unethical to even try and change your orientation. Almost everywhere I looked, I would see movies, shows, ads — all with gay couples seemingly living a happy life. That subtle messaging seeped into my psyche. Part of me wanted that, but part of me didn’t. For change to happen, I had to at least momentarily suspend my disbelief and give room to a budding hope.

In some ways, that hope was a last ditch effort. There was a desperation to it. A desperation that drove me to act. And so I found myself in therapy. I needed to understand what was driving those feelings. That required me to work through my past. Like most guys in my situation, I had grown up feeling different. The same-sex attraction was something I carried for as long as I remember; it really felt like I was ‘born that way.’ I needed clinical support to unpack my feelings — but it wasn’t conversion therapy, it was trauma therapy. It wasn’t something that time would heal or that could be addressed by myself. Before therapy, I thought I had a good childhood. But I soon realized there were things that happened that shouldn’t have. And there were things that should have happened, that didn’t.

After a few years into therapy, I began to notice how heavily my past had impacted my present. Therapy opened the door to a host of wounds that I didn’t know were there. They were early attachment wounds that impacted how I saw myself and how I interacted with the world. The sexuality piece was really just a symptom of an underlying hurt. A byproduct that wouldn’t budge when addressed directly. I needed to get to the root cause. And until then, men became a way to numb the emotional distress I felt.

But once I started to treat the source of that pain, it felt like my world was turning upside down — in a good way. I had to let go of the armor that kept me safe but starved me from connection. I became less guarded. I began to feel more. The more my nervous system calmed, the more I felt that I was in the driver’s seat. Slowly, my perception of the world began to shift. I had to learn to forgive my parents (still ongoing). I started to become more honest with my friends. I started to become more self-aware and less emotionally reactive. I started to speak up for myself. But it didn’t happen overnight. It was less like turning on a light switch, and more like slowly turning a dimmer switch. My life was slowly starting to feel brighter. And for the first time I felt that maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

Working through the present also meant letting old patterns all by the wayside. For me, pornography had become a way to numb that emotional distress. What started as a curiosity, a coping mechanism, slowly distorted my perception of love and belonging. The more sad and empty I was, the more tempting men became. I had to overcome years of self-medicating. The good news was that the compulsion seemed to wither on its own the more I treated the inner sadness. It takes discipline to let those old neural pathways atrophy. I see my mind as a tree. I’m the gardener trying to prune old branches, but I can’t force new ones to grow. That takes patience.

And letting new pathways grow is where I’m at now. As I work through my past and present, I also need to take stock of my future and open myself to new possibilities. Now, I’m in my mid-thirties. But in many ways, I feel like I’m a teenage boy. I feel unsure of myself, somewhat shaky. I’m having to relearn who I am. My interactions with men are different now — I see them mostly as peers or brothers. They help ground me, and in some ways I think they’re providing a foundation for me to have healthy relationships with women. My interactions with women are different too. I sometimes find myself thinking about women and wonder what it’d be like to marry one. It actually feels like a possibility now, although the dating scene still scares me. I wish I could supercharge the process, but it’s not something that can be forced. It takes time, though at least it feels like I’m headed in the right direction.

So apart from working through past, present and future, there’s also a spiritual component to this as well. I hesitate to write about spirituality and faith because it feels less defensible in some ways. But I’d be lying if I told you that throughout this whole process there wasn’t some sort of divine guidance. I will say I was mad at God because I felt he cursed me. I felt frustrated that He wouldn’t take this away. But in hindsight, I’m glad He didn’t. Because it would’ve robbed me of the opportunity to learn about myself. And I think I’m much better for it.

For brevity’s sake, what I’ve shared is really a high-level overview of my journey. But it is ongoing. And there’s much more nuance to it. Each sentence could have been a post of its own. I plan on addressing all of these points in greater detail in future writings.

So, in short, can a gay person become straight?

Short answer: yes, I think so.

Long answer: It takes time and change happens slowly. My journey is really less about my sexual attractions and more about healing from the past, learning from the present, and crafting my future. It’s really about becoming the man I want to be. The best version of myself.

I had to start with the end in mind and work my way here. But the process isn’t linear and I still have a long ways to go.

If you’re reading this and thinking there’s no way — I get it. I’d be skeptical too. We all have different paths. But if you’re reading this and something speaks to you, I hope you know you’re not alone.