By Daniel Batalla

Daily Titan Columnist

National Coming Out Day is observed every year on Oct. 11.

It’s a day in which closeted individuals are encouraged to take the next step in living openly gay lives.

It’s also a day that was founded in order to promote discussion about gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender issues.

Coming out to my parents was a difficult decision to make.

Actually, it wasn’t so much my decision as it was my mother’s inquisitiveness that led to my outing.

I come from a long line of Catholics and, from an early age, I was expected to partake in the Catholic faith’s religious markers. I was baptized, made my first communion and was confirmed in the Catholic Church.

But when it came time to accept my faith as an adult, I found I had reservations about the religion that had essentially been handed down to me. I no longer felt the connection to Catholicism.

Frankly, I never understood how my romantic interests would be my ticket to hell.

But I did know that I couldn’t actively participate in a religion that deemed homosexuality to be a “violation of divine and natural law.”

As a child, I went through the appropriate motions during church services – I sat when everyone else did, kneeled when I prayed, stood for blessings and confessed when I was told to.

I confessed my sins to my priest on a weekly basis, though, I omitted the fact that my “impure thoughts” involved one of the three altar boys assisting him during mass.

As I matured, I began to question whether or not I wanted to continue following the Catholic faith.

I decided to stop attending services altogether until I figured out what spiritual path I wanted to take.

Months went by before my mother asked me why I was no longer attending church.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been going to Mass lately,” she mentioned one day. “Is there any reason why?”

I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was ready for my answer, and not just about my absence from church. I nervously responded, “I dunno.” But I did know.

I didn’t want to attend a church that asked me to leave my sexuality at the door. She proceeded to ask me if there was anything I wanted to tell her. She had an anxious look on her face. Here it was, my opportunity.She was giving me the “go ahead.”

By now, my nerves had me in a cold sweat, and my hands had turned to ice. But before I could think of the appropriate words to say, “I’m gay” just seemed to spill from my lips.

For a moment, there was silence.

I could see my mother’s eyes tearing up. I think it was as much of a relief for her to hear as it was for me to say it. An enormous weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but I was unsure of what to do next.

Should I be the first to speak?

Should I not have told her?

But then came another question, how would I tell my dad?

My dad is a man’s man. His idea of fun consisted of changing the oil in my car and watching soccer on TV. So when it came time to tell him, I was especially worried that he would think less of his sissy, artsy, sensitive son.

But as it turned out, he didn’t really care. His response to my 18-year-long secret was quite literally the last thing I would have expected him to say. “Are you a flamer?,” he asked.

To this day, I don’t think he actually knows what a flamer is, but somehow I managed to answer him between the explosion of laughter and the sigh of relief. “No, Dad. I’m not what you would call a flamer.”

Coming out, like religion, can be an enlightening experience. But it has to be done at a person’s own discretion.

National Coming Out Day only encourages people to take the step toward living openly. No one can dictate when or how a person should come out.

Just know that my life has become much richer and happier since uttering the two words, “I’m gay.”