Tuesday, July 11, 2006
A little calmed down
I am still not ready to see anyone in my family(most of all my dad and older brother) so I am hanging out here at the library until they kick me out, then I'll drive around until everyone is asleep before going home. I'm trying to see that my family is doing this out of love, but I keep feeling that when they look at me all they see is the gay, as if that is the most important part. In the end it will work out, I hope. If it doesn't, well, I'll be at college in less than three months. I just have to keep from doing something self-destructive just to hurt them. Deep breaths, Jason, deep breaths.
Jason, man, I would be pissed too if someone invaded my privacy like that.
One thing I try to remember when parents FREAK out is that often their concept of "gay" is not based in reality. It is based on lies they have heard from anti-gay leaders and based on their experience of seeing what happened to gay people from their school days.
I know for my folks, they thought I would have a dreadful life because of the gays and lesbians they knew growing up ended up violently killed or miserable. My mom (who is totally cool with me and my gayness) reminds me that it is hard for some parents to understand the world today and that they need a big learning curve.
Of course I don't know your folks, so they could just be psycho, but more likely they are incomplete souls like the rest of us desperately needing grace (and lots of good education).
Yeah, nothing self-destructive. You are too precisou for that. Be pissed and sin not...or something like that.
As one blogger told me when I had dropped off the radar screen for a while:
"If you're OK, stick your head up and let us know you're OK.
If you're not OK, stick your head up and let us know what we should be praying for..."
Keep the faith and keep writing!
I just found and read your blog. I can empathize a lot with what you are feeling. I kept my battles and struggles silent and to myself for 30 years until the Lord finally gave me the right people and the right time to begin to deal with the trauma of my childhood and the self-loathing I had for so long because of my SSA.
I am praying for you...
Monday, July 10, 2006
I'm pissed, and I don't mean drunk
I am not an angry person. No, really, I'm not. People would try to piss me off at school but they never could. The one time they did see me get pissed was when they weren't even trying: I went to the bathroom and came back to find that a kid had dug around in my books and pulled out my journal. I almost killed him right then and there. The only thing that makes me really angry is an invasion of my privacy. Today, I found out it was majorly breached, in more ways than one.
My dad told me he wanted to have a talk with me. Fine. I didn't really want to talk to him because the only time he ever wants to talk with me is when he has something to say about my sexuality, but I figure that since he is my father, I should talk to him.
We make the obligatory smalltalk(you know, where we talk about pointless stuff until I want to scream) and he says something along the lines of, "I was searching through the glovebox of your truck and I found something." Shit. That is my only place to keep anything private: right now I am living in a one bedroom apartment with my dad and brother. He had found my journal and the first entry just happened to be basically what I talked about in this post, except much more raw. He of course saw nothing wrong with it("As a father it would have been irresponsable of me to put it down once I had read the first line"). He then went on to say that he had talked to my older brother to see if I had had any conversations with him(which I had) and see what I said.
Am I not supposed to be pissed here? He didn't understand why I refused to look at him when I see that basically anytime I let out what is in my heart and head he automatically requisitions it. And it gets worse. He wants me to go to a Christian therapist that he picked out who will report everything I say to him. Fuck no. I'm not gonna pour out all my deepest secrets(like the fact that I think Adrian Grenier is a total hottie) just so they can be reiterated to my parents.
In an attempt to perform what I call Parental-psycho-fucknalasis my dad asks me "Tell me who you are" and I tell him point blank i am not playing that game where he basically uses everything I say to tell me how fucked up I am and how much help I need. Then of course he throws out that origonal line, "We only do this because we love you." Bull. Since when does love demand that someone else change? I show people I love them by listening to them and discovering what their passion is and spending time with them. My parents show love by trying to turn me straight. They have never once asked me what my passion is. They don't ask about my dreams and aspirations. The only time my dad has ever wanted to do something with just me it was so we could talk about the fact that I am a fucking fag. They say they want to get to know me but that isn't true, otherwise they would focus on something other than the fact that guys make me horny.
What right does my dad have to even bring up my sexuality? He is the one who was too much of a fucking pussy to even have the sex talk with me(ooh, is that some of my latent anger towards my father that caused me to be a fag?). They say that we all failed to talk in this last year(in which they knew I liked guys but we never talked about it). Bull. They made one attempt to talk to me about it. It seems to me that love doesn't give up that easily. The people I care about know I love them, because I have always been there for them. Where were my parents when I was beat up for being American? Where were they when I was spit on because I was white? Where were they when I sat in school every day, carving bloody shapes into my arm with a pencil. Where were they when I didn't have a knife, so I ripped a nickel-sized chunk of flesh out of my hand with my fingernails? All those times when it should have been obvious that something was wrong, they weren't there. Apparantly those things weren't important enough for them to get to know me, to find out what was wrong. I guess I have to get off on guys fucking before that happens.
I have to go now, I left my dad sitting at the park because I wasn't willing to ride home with him, and I am writing this at the library. My time is up and someone is waiting behind me.
And asking you to go to a therapist who would report to him? Does he not understand therapy? One of the reasons it is ever effective is because it is a safe environment. By asking the therapist to reveal what you talked about, it is no longer safe.
About the other stuff, I can't even speak to it as I have never been in that place (cutting), and I have no idea why your parents didn't intervene. But their reaction to your gayness is obviously rooted in 'fear for your eternal soul', which -- though it may sound extreme, at least tells you that they care. That's what I try and remember whenever my mom and I get into it.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
The cruelest of cruelties
I can deal with my older brother thinking that I had given up in trying to become straight: he has no inkling of what I am dealing with and what I have gone through because he has never dealt with it. But what if I met someone(in real life... sorry to all my internet peeps but it just isn't the same) who was dealing with the same things I am? I read what people have to say online and it is easy for me to only see the things I want to see: I find myself reading almost exclusively things written by Christians who are gay. Sometimes I see myself easily accepting what people who I agree with(gay Christians) have to say while discounting the other(ex-gay) side. I have to ask myself, am I doing this because God has given me discernment or because I am happy where I am now, and don't want to change?
The reason all these questions are popping up right now is that yesterday I got to talking with someone I had hung out with a few times. We talked about God and things in his past and different stuff and something he kept saying really struck me. He said, "I have basically gone through everything a guy can go through." To me this either made him an idiot who didn't realize that homosexuality was something some guys deal with, or he had actually gone through it. He didn't seem like an idiot and he said that phrase enough times that it seemed like he was trying to tell me without telling me... i.e. it was something I would only notice if I was looking out for it.
We start talking about trust and then for a while I get real silent and he asks why. I tell him that I am deciding whether or not I can trust him. So finally I realize that besides the possibility of him telling others(which didn't seem very likely) the only thing I could lose by telling him was our friendship, which was new and therefore easy to risk.
So in my very blunt, direct way(sarcasm here) I tell him, "Well, I am not really attracted to girls." If he hadn't got what I was saying or was like "what do you mean?" I think I would have screamed, or possibly my head would have exploded. There is nothing worse(and I have had this happen) then telling someone one of the hardest things in the world and them not getting it. I think my biggest fear is telling someone I am gay and them thinking I am joking.
His response was something along the line of, "Yeah, I used to be attracted to gusy too." Forgive me for saying this, but at this point I was so happy I about creamed my pants. Finally, a real person who knew what I was going through. Woohoo! But part of his phrase struck me, used to??? When I had hoped to meet a Christian who knew what I was dealing with, I always assumed that being gay was part of the deal. Grr.
So we had a really good talk(which my next post will be all about) but the end result is that, gosh dang it, he sparked something in me that I thought was long gone. Something that I remember tearing my life apart. Sometimes I wonder how cruel God can be, playing all these tricks on me. What he gave me is much more sinister than shame or self-hatred. He gave me Hope.
Screw hope. I was happy with who I was.
I really feel for you, whatever the outcome. I remember going back and forth for years - and honestly, it was really really distracting. I hope things work out.
This post addressed a lot of those instincts. I'm not coming out for anyone but me - and I'm doing it because the truth should come out.
I love this quote:
The closet is not where homosexuals hide - it is where the truth is hidden until we take it out into the light. (from Rob Eichberg's classic book Coming Out: An Act of Love.)
And the reason I love it is because it's true. The more that people know about me, the more they can't deny that good, decent, loving and caring men are also gay. We aren't all drug-crazed circuit bois or child-craving pedophiles. We work, we vote, we contribute and we volunteer. We are not sex-crazed monsters - but we are tired of living in a closet, or in a box of celibacy.
I've had to come to my own undersanding of God - one that will take me exactly where I am, and love me unconditionally. I've had to come to understand that there is no asterisk in the verse God so loved the world* that he sent his only begotten son that says *this means the straight world, moron.
God wants me to be happy, joyous and free. No matter what the Christian right says, I didn't choose this; I was made this way.
If you'd like to read the thoughts of one closer to your age, check out Geek Boi's reflections on my post over here. It's a very worthy read.
I'm just glad you continue to post and struggle. It's only through the struggle that you'll find your way to peace, and eventually, to acceptance.