On July 16, I stood among the sea of Little Monsters in Las Vegas, blown away by the opening night of Lady Gaga's Mayhem Ball tour. Mother Monster put on a show full of heart and symbolism. In the middle of it all, I realized I wasn't just watching Gaga's dazzling tale of dueling personalities; I was reliving my own journey in a way I'd never put into words.Well, here goes.I came out as a gay man in the 1990s, raised in a small Iowa town where, at the time, doing so could mean losing your family, friends, or more. The LGBTQ+ community was still recovering from the AIDS crisis and heartbreak following the murder of Matthew Shepard. I was a young reporter, dedicated to sharing the stories of others, all while keeping part of myself hidden. Covering Matthew's murder was one of the most painful experiences of my life. It triggered a pattern of destructive behavior that I would rather forget. In Mayhem, Lady Gaga held a mirror up to that messy path and the parts of me I used to hide, saying, "Look at this, it's all part of you."Mayhem opens with Gaga declaring, "This is my house." When she launched into "Born This Way," the years fell away. That song was my lifeline when being openly gay still came with a hundred unspoken warnings. Her message to love yourself wasn't just a lyric to me; it was permission. Mayhem reached into places I thought I'd already healed.At the heart of Mayhem stands Gaga's alter ego: the Mistress of Mayhem. She's the 'Lady in Red' who appears throughout the show, at one point towering over the stage in a giant crimson gown. Gaga uses The Lady in Red to represent her shadow: the part of yourself you've been told is too much. The part you keep in the dark because it scares you, and everyone else.For me, that shadow was the fear of being judged for being gay. When Gaga eventually faced the Lady in Red during "Million Reasons," joining hands instead of fighting her, it reminded me that the pieces of ourselves that we hide aren't the enemy. They're the missing half of the whole of who we are.Gaga built Mayhem like an opera, with deliberate nods to The Phantom of the Opera. During "Shallow," she climbed into a small boat rowed by the Lady in Red. In Phantom, the mask hides his deformities, but it also masks his fear and shame. Mayhem pulled that symbolism into the spotlight, and it struck me. My opera house had a phantom, too.Mayhem felt like a ritual. In "Bad Romance," Gaga appears in white feathers, wearing the dark hair of her shadow self, saying, "We are monsters, and monsters never die." It's a moment of defiance and acceptance. Then she returns in a T-shirt and no makeup for the encore, singing "How Bad Do U Want Me." It felt like she had peeled back everything to reveal her true, bare self. She left us with the powerful line: "The ritual of being yourself is a beautiful practice."Mayhem Ball wasn't just a concert; it was a sanctuary. A place where queer folks and anyone who's felt like an outsider could feel they belonged. Gaga has always called fans her "Little Monsters," and that night, I understood precisely why.I felt empowered, moved, and seen as I left the show. I also felt claimed. Claimed by my own history, shadows, and monsters. Gaga reminded me that those messy years of my life aren't stains to scrub out; they're proof that somehow, I made it through the worst of times. Like Lady Gaga, I declare: "This is my house," and I choose to live unapologetically as myself.Thank you, Lady Gaga.Perspectives is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit Pride.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Perspectives stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of PRIDE or our parent company, equalpride.