After six sessions of therapy to change his sexual orientation, Thomas Swanson, who did not want his real name to be used, decided he had had enough of being shocked. The therapy was not working, and he could not bear the thought of more pain. He decided his life was over.

His family lived in a three-story building, and after telling his sister goodbye, he went to the roof and stood at its edge. But before he could jump, his mother burst onto the roof.

"My mom ran onto the roof crying and said ‘I will love you again, if you'll just change,'" Swanson said.

He said those words were heartbreaking because his mother acknowledged she did not love him, and yet he knew there was nothing he could do to change. He turned away from her and took another step toward the ledge.

"I'll make the pain go away," she yelled.

Swanson recalls this was "gold" to his ears.

He stepped off the ledge, ran into her arms crying and lied, saying the therapy had worked.

His mother stopped taking him to therapy, and the family changed instantly.

"We could go out to eat as a family again. We could smile," Swanson said. "From then on I completely became their straight son."

Swanson's parents still believe they have a straight son. However, Swanson is a member of the local LGBTQI community, where he feels accepted. It was not always this way.

Upon his arrival at K-State, Swanson said he was unaware other homosexuals existed. After all, he had been told the government had eradicated them.

He fought his same-sex attractions at K-State and forced himself into a heterosexual relationship as a cover, should accusations begin to arise. But he avoided all physical contact, using Christian values as a reason for his celibate relationship.

"It's great because I was this Christian boy, so I wasn't supposed to be doing anything, and that was really helpful," Swanson said.

Dusty Garner, senior in political science, recalled when Swanson approached the local LGBTQI community. Garner is a local leader and advocate for the community.

"When he got here and found out that [there were gay people in the world], he was so stunned that he didn't know what to do," Garner said of his friend.

Indeed, Swanson said he was "socially stunned" there was a gay community of people who led fulfilled lives.

One day on campus, Swanson overheard Chelsey Fritch, senior in humanities, talking about her girlfriend.

"We had talked a few times in the past, but we really got close during that awful winter break," Fritch said. "I had come out the year before that winter break and had quite an awful experience in coming out, being from a very similar religious background."

Fritch said she knew Swanson was gay from the moment they met.

"I could just see the inner turmoil that I had so familiarly experienced in the past," Fritch said. "What I did offer him was a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. I told him that being gay wasn't a choice; that it was only a part of what made him the amazing person he is today."

Fritch told him there were other gay people in the world and the government was not eradicating homosexuals, like his parents had told him.

Swanson said he began to "freak out." This revelation devastated him: All the people he had lived with and put his trust in had lied his entire life.

Swanson said Fritch was shocked that he believed he had AIDS.

Swanson said he began going through "un-therapy, going through all these stages, literally going through mental and physical, in reverse."

Through patience and understanding, Swanson said the gay community helped him understand that being gay was OK.

He said he feels he still has a lot of "un-therapy" to go through.

"I've never dated in the gay direction because I always wonder how the therapy will come back up," Swanson said. "Because every single time there is a major victory, I'm still having the nightmares."

Swanson expects the effects of his therapy to haunt him for life.

"I've literally had licensed psychologists say, ‘You need to repress this. This is so damaging we have no idea how you've gotten through this. This is not to be dealt with,'" he said.

Swanson said he was able to forgive the man who facilitated the therapy because he feels the man was not acting out of maliciousness. The man's actions were methodical, almost scientific; he told Swanson what would happen prior to each session.

"For him, you have to forgive someone that does such torturous things to be able to live," Swanson said. "He was hurting me, but he wasn't what I was concentrating on. I kept trying to focus on getting attracted to girls so this would stop."

Swanson said he even forgives his parents for putting him through a torturous 18-month period.

"I have forgiven them, but that doesn't mean I understand them," he said. "I don't understand how you can do that to a child."

He said his parents truly felt he was an abomination and simply wanted to see him go to heaven. He said his parents' drastic steps caused him inner conflict, and he hopes others can avoid his fate.

The American Psychological Association acknowledges the conflict that certain religious perspectives might present to parents with a homosexual child but urges parents not to take any action to change their child's sexuality.

The 2009 APA resolution on appropriate affirmative responses advises families "to avoid sexual orientation change efforts that portray homosexuality as a mental illness or developmental disorder, and to seek psychotherapy, social support and educational services" that provide accurate information on sexual orientation and sexuality.

Additionally, it recommends an increase in family and school support, to reduce rejection of "sexual minority youth."

"I stand one-million-and-one percent against it. It did not change me," Swanson said. "I look at it like I live in a world where God doesn't judge me for who I am, and he loves the world, so I'm going to help spread the word of his love, and that's how I move forward."