It would take a few handfuls of girlfriends, over two decades of denial and seven full years of hiding on the other side of the planet — in China — before I learned to let go of my fear, my shame and the idea that being gay was wrong.

In China, from the outside looking in, I had it all. Career-wise I had worked my way into the Chinese media scene. I had a national radio show that broadcast to millions across the country and I became the first foreign VJ to host a program on MTV China. Yes, the perception and prestige was there — it looked amazing, but on the inside I was afraid and felt so alone.

China, in many ways, was my test drive. I was a miserable closet case and realized in order to feel a way I had never felt I had to do something I’d never done. So, I broke up with my girlfriend, I started hooking up with guys and quickly realized that other men were the missing piece of the puzzle that had been so void in my life. I came out to my friends and quickly realized my success was meaningless, so I quit my jobs, got rid of my car, packed up my apartment and bought a one-way ticket back to Vancouver. I was ready to come home and to come out to my family.

As a gay kid, you live a life hungry for a sign that you’re normal. You might look up the word “gay” or “homosexual” in the dictionary in hopes of finding a definition that describes who you might be. An explanation of why you’re the way you are and a reassurance that you’re not alone.

I grew up never finding that definition and although I lived in the most loving, understanding and supportive household, I feared that if I came out, my entire family would hate and reject me. No Google search or god could have told me otherwise — I was terrified but knew regardless of their reaction I had to be true to myself.

Coming out changed my life. I told myself from that very day on I would never tell another lie. I lived a lifetime of being untrue and the liberation and ease that came with that truth and authenticity of coming out set me free. After four years of being home in Vancouver, I got back on the radio and knew I eventually wanted to be out and open about my sexuality in public.

Right in the heart of a string of gay teen suicides, I interviewed political activist Dan Savage about the anti-bullying campaign he launched called the It Gets Better Project. What I didn’t expect was getting this Facebook message after that interview aired:

“Hey Cory, for what its worth, I want to apologize for how I treated you back in high school. What I did was wrong and I make no excuses for my actions. I have a young family now and I’ve come to realize how destructive my behaviour was back then. I hope things with you are well and wish you continued success in life.”

I told him: “ … those past moments have made us who we are today. I feel lucky to have lived the life I’ve lived and wouldn’t change a minute of my past. For me, this is yet another one of life’s many lessons and for that I am grateful. I completely accept your apology, I’ve gained respect for you and hope for a loving future for you, your family and your two daughters.”