Lots has been said and posted and shared over the last week
or so. One bit of advice that I really like is that we should all listen with
love and compassion when someone opens up about something so personal. To mourn
with that person instead of suggest ways to fix it or why their problem really
isn’t so bad. We are commanded to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those
who stand in need of comfort. I think it’s hard to do that if we don’t
understand what the other person is going through. When talking about
homosexuality in the church most members are at a complete loss. This is
something they know nothing about first hand. How can they know what it feels
like to grow up this way unless someone tells them. This is me telling them. I
hope it somehow is a benefit to people who read it. Share it if you feel so
inclined.
This post is a mess. I didn’t want to sit down and plan it
all out because I wanted the raw Macsen to come out so it’s completely
disorganized and probably doesn’t make sense and it rambles. But it’s full of
my emotions and it’s something I needed to get out. Treat it more like a stream
of consciousness piece.
On to the main event:
I’ve had a lot of people ask if I’m ok over the last few
days. The short answer is no. No I’m not ok.
Here’s the long answer:
Once upon a time I was born into a nearly perfect Mormon
family and raised up unto the Lord by two imperfect parents who did a darn good
job. Some of my earliest memories are of family home evenings, going to the
airport to bid farewell or welcome home my older cousins who served missions,
reading the scriptures as a family, singing songs in primary, feeling the
spirit – a LOT because my parents did everything they could to have the spirit
in our home. I also feel like I’ve always had some divine help feeling the
spirit. For some reason God decided to bless/curse (calm down it’s a joke) me
with a keen ability to feel the Spirit of God, unwavering knowledge that He
exists and that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true.
From a young age I had dreams of one day serving a mission,
getting married in the temple, having kids of my own – and not because I was
brainwashed to want those things. I wanted those things because I could feel
that God felt those things would be good for me.
Life was fine and dandy. I feel like I had a fairly normal
and happy childhood. Then one day, in 6th grade, everything changed.
I woke up and went to school and was bewildered and alarmed to find that
suddenly all the boys were WAY more attractive than all the girls. It was confusing
and unnerving and scary and worst of all it felt intensely SHAMEFUL. I was only
just starting to understand what gay and straight were at the time. But I knew
that according to the church I was supposed to be attracted to and want to
marry a woman. At the same time, middle school age is when you become aware of
society at large and what it deems is normal and what is not. Remember how
crewel society was to the LGBT community back in the 90’s? I do. It was awful.
So awful that I decided pretty much instantly that I would never tell a soul
because then they would hate me as much as society hated gay people and they
would reject me just like society rejected gay people. And as a people pleaser
the idea of being rejected by anyone was unbearable. I cannot imagine how much
worse this all was for the generation before me.
From that point on I was under constant and intense
cognitive dissonance (noun: PSYCHOLOGY, the state of having inconsistent
thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions
and attitude change.) Basically cognitive dissonance is hell. It’s like your
soul is being ripped in half by different parts of yourself that cannot exist
in the same space at the same time and yet, somehow they do exist in the same
space at the same time. Cognitive dissonance leads to unimaginable emotional
pain. I’ve been told by my dad and siblings that I was a pretty grumpy
teenager. Now you know why. I was internally at war with myself, I hated
myself, I couldn’t stop being attracted to guys, and the expectation from
well-meaning parents and aunts/uncles to live a gospel centered life saddled me
up with soul-crushing pressure. As an 11 year old I had NO idea what emotions
were or how to handle them. All I knew was that they were big and overwhelming
and scary so I did whatever I could to avoid them. I ate – A LOT – which made
me fat. Which made me feel worse about myself. I got caught up in pornography
and masturbation. That’s probably TMI but guess what? Sorrynotsorry. It’s time
to start openly talking about these issues without shrouding them in shame and
secrecy.
SHAME DOESN’T HELP ANYBODY IN FACT IT ONLY MAKES EVERYTHING
WORSE.
I feel like the imperfect culture of the church might see
shame and godly sorry as the same thing. At least that’s what it feels like as
a young child. However, they’re not the same. Look up Brene Brown’s TED talks
to educate yourself on that. In short, shame drives you into hiding and makes
you believe that you are a bad person. Guilt or godly sorry makes you believe
that you did a bad thing, but that thing isn’t a reflection on you as a person.
The way the youth are taught about sin and its consequences and how they’re
confronted about sin when they’re caught in it and then disciplined about it is
so shame inducing its, well… it’s shameful. I have no idea how to go about
fixing this cultural issue but we’ve got to figure it out. Shame is killing us.
Maybe it should start in early childhood. Reminding a child that they’re a good
kid even if they sometimes do bad things.
So there I was a scared insecure and shame ridden 11 year
old. Then I turned 12 and became a deacon and fairly soon after that I was
taught the law of chastity. Now, before this point I had no idea that anything
I was doing was bad. I walked out of that Sunday School lessen feeling so
ashamed I wanted to die. So now there were two huge things that I was ashamed
of. I liked boys and church and society are telling me I’m bad because of that.
And I’m bad because I’m addicted to pornography and masturbation. You can
imagine how this affected my emotional state. On top of that I felt immense
pressure to be a perfect Mormon so my family/extended family would be pleased
with me, but inside I had come to the sad conclusion that I was a bad person –
and that I was the only bad person who did bad things in my entire perfect
Mormon extended family. At least they all looked perfect to 12 year old me. On
top of the other stuff I was lonely (we had just moved), I was fat, which
brought on a host of other insecurities, I was terrified that anyone would find
out I was attracted to guys because I was certain that I would be rejected and
even hated for it so I held back on trying to make friends even though I was
terribly lonely. And I had no idea how to handle these emotions. And I was too
afraid to talk to anyone about them. But eating and watching pornography
distracted me and made me feel better, only now that I knew pornography was
wrong that made me feel worse but I couldn’t stop because that’s the definition
of addiction. Try as you might you cannot stop.
I went through all of middle and high school with this
awfulness stewing inside me. And all the while I knew serving a mission was
coming up. It was weird to anticipate such a milestone with both excitement and
dread. I’m one of 88 grandchildren in a wonderful family of pioneer stock.
EVERY male grandchild before me had served a mission and you better believe
there was no way in hell I was going to be the one to ruin that perfect trend.
Gotta fulfill those expectations. This isn’t to say that I didn’t want to go. I
did! I loved hearing my parents and older cousins talk about the awesome
experiences they had on their missions. I wanted and was excited to experience
that as well. At the same time every week at church I had it hammered into me
how critical it was to be worthy to serve a mission but here I was addicted to
porn and very clearly not worthy. There was a time I worked with the bishop
about porn, but I was too afraid to talk about liking guys because I was
certain they wouldn’t let me go on a mission and then I would ruin the trend of
perfect missionary service in the Ray family and everyone would be mad at me
and I would feel like a failure and feel SHAME and young women don’t want to
marry non-missionaries because they’re bad.
I’m bad. I’m terrible. I hate myself. I’m ashamed. I’m
terrified. I’m alone. I’m bad.
Senior year. Mom dies of breast cancer. It’s my fault
because I’m constantly sinning and I’m a bad person. And God has punished my entire
family because of me and now they’re suffering because I did bad things because
I’m a terrible person. These are really thoughts that actually went through my
head. And I believed they were true.
Freshman year of college. What the heck!?!?! Suddenly I have
a girlfriend. I have no idea why on earth she pursued me. I’m ugly. I’m a
terrible person. ANXIETY. Her Ex-boyfriend is really cute. WHAT IS WRONG WITH
ME?! There’s real chemistry here with her though. (AND ALSO A LOT OF ANXIETY)
and it’s really fun to kiss her. She turns me on. ANXIETY. Did NOT expect that
one. But hey, maybe there’s hope for a future marriage to a woman?
ANXIETYANXIETYANXIETYANXIETYANXIETYANXIETYANXIETY Yay?
Everyone starts working on mission papers. “when are you
gonna start your papers?” “when are you going to go?” “will you do one semester
of school first or two?” Young men are smothered to death with well-intentioned
questions like these. For me it was torture and I’m sure I’m not alone.
Starting on mission papers means talking to the bishop about all my sins which
are bad and shameful and terrible and I can’t talk to him about the big one
because then I won’t be able to go and I CANNOT BE THE ONE TO NOT GO.
Pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure pressure
Well…..I just won’t talk about it. I’ve kept it a secret
this long. I’ll NEVER act on it because if anyone ever finds out then
eventually everyone will find out and then everyone I know will hate me.
ANXIETY. It’s fine. I can still serve a mission. It’s fine. ANXIETY. I’m fine.
I’m not fine. ANXIETY. This is not fine. THINGS WILL NEVER BE FINE.
The mission call comes. Russia. Russia!? (awesome!!!) Russia?!
(isn’t that a really hard place to serve?) I’m a bad person. I’ve lied by
omission to my bishop, stake president and now to an apostle. Anxiety. Pressure.
MORE ANXIETY. But look how pleased everyone is with me. Pressure. Can’t back
out now. ANXIETY. DREAD. I really do want to serve. Don’t feel worthy to serve.
ANXIETY. Can’t back out. Pressure.
Time to go to the temple.
Shit.
That’s serious.
That’s scary serious.
I’m bad. I was bad before, but now I’m REALLY bad. I’m not
worthy. PRESSUREANXIETYPRESSUREANXIETYPRESSUREANXIETY. I can’t break free of my
addictions. I’m weak. I don’t have enough faith. I’m buried with shame. I hate
myself. I’m a terrible person. Pressure pressure pressure pressure…. “Bishop
lets postpone for a few weeks. I’m not ready yet.” Such a relief! That was a
good move. What the heck?! I didn’t even blink and 3 weeks has gone by. And I’m
still a mess and I’m still addicted and I’m still unworthy. And I’m still
anxious and THERE’S SO MUCH PRESSURE I’M GONNA DIE. That was the quickest 3
weeks of my life. No more time to postpone. It’s time to go. Now. Pressure.
Can’t disappoint everyone.
“…Do you accept these covenants of your own free will and
choice?”
My
mouth: “yes.” Because pressure and because it’s time and because you’re in the
middle of the ceremony with TONS of family there and you’d rather die than
sprint out of there as fast as you can but at the same time you’d rather die
than stay there knowing you should not be there. ANXIETY!!!!!!!!!!
My
brain: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! This can’t be happening!
I’m not worthy! I’m not ready to be making these covenants! I’m not worthy to
be making these covenants! I am truly awful. Now I’m lying to God himself. I
should NOT be here. I shouldn’t be here! So why don’t I get up and leave? The
video said I should. Can’t. Too much pressure. Too much shame. I. AM. A.
TERRIBLE. PERSON. I’M BAD. I’M BAD. I’M BAD. I’M BAD. I’M BAD. I’M BAD. I’M
BAD. I’M BAD. Please God don’t strike me with lightning. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Everyone in the entire church: “How
was the temple?”
My
mouth: “It was awesome!”
My
brain: “I have officially damned myself to hell. I desecrated the temple. I
made a mockery of those covenants. SHAME. SHAME. SHAME. SHAME. SHAME. I’m a
terrible person. ANXIETY
Time to go to the MTC. Shouldn’t be going. I’m not worried.
Oh wait actually I am worried. I’m terrified. ANXIETY. Pressure. Shame. I hate
myself.
My brain on every single day of
the mission: “Repeat after me a billion times: I am NOT attracted to my
companion – Liar, yes you are – NO I’M NOT.” ANXIETY ANXIETY ANXIETY ANXIETY “I’m
not worthy to be out here.” Shame. Pressure. Anxiety. Terror. “I can’t talk
about it now because they will surely send me home and what’s worse than not
going on a mission at all? Coming home from one early. ANXIETY. Can’t face the
family. PRESSURE/ANXIETY. No girl will ever want to marry me, not that they’d
want to anyway because of the trainwreck of a person I am” ANXIETY. “Why don’t
we have any investigators? Oh. It’s because I’m not worthy. Obviously”…”Why are
the missionaries in my zone struggling so much? Because I’m not worthy to be a
zone leader and therefore the spirit can’t direct me on how to help them”
Mission President: “I released you
as a zone leader because you weren’t worthy to be one. Your addictions will
ruin your life if you don’t learn how to control them.” (I had talked to him
throughout my mission about my addiction to masturbation)
My brain: “Wow his tone was angry.
Ouch. My mission president is REALLY disappointed in me. OUCH! It’s not like I
haven’t been trying! I HAVE been trying, but I’m also failing a lot. Every time
even. I’m a failure. SHAME. Everything I’ve been telling myself is true. I’m
not worthy. I. AM. A. TERRIBLEAWFULHORRIBLE PERSON. It’s not worth telling the
mission president that I like guys now because I go home in two transfers
anyway. Oh CRAP. It’s almost time to go home. I’ve squandered all my time out
here as an unworthy servant. I’m sorry God. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.” SHAME. I’M BAD. ANXIETY.
My favorite sister missionary left me a note when she went
home. Mission Pres gave it to me in that interview.
Sister: “look me up when you get
home because I think you’re awesome and I want to date you”
To say I was floored is an understatement. Getting to know
this sister and her goodness was one of the best experiences of my life. She is
lovely in every way and was a stellar missionary. I had no idea what she saw in
me because all I could see by this point in my life was the mountain of
terrible ugly. But holy cow! This is my ticket to a normal future with a woman.
I CANNOT LET THIS ONE GET AWAY FROM ME BECAUSE WITH HER IT WOULD WORK. ANXIETY.
Would it really work? ANXIETY. Gotta try because of the pressure. So much
pressure. Pressure. PRESSURE.
“Welcome home! You should go to the
temple and pray to see if God accepts your sacrifice of two years. He will and it
will be a wonderful experience.”
My mouth: “oh! What a great idea!”
My brain: “NOT THAT PLACE AGAIN!” ANXIETY.
“I missed being in the temple a lot – no temples in Russia – but I’m still not
worthy.” SHAME.
I went anyway.
Me while praying in the temple:
“Sorry I went unworthily and sorry I couldn’t control myself and sorry I wasted
two years. Sorry. I don’t even want to ask if you accept my sacrifice”
I asked anyway.
God: -deafening silence-
My brain: “so that’s a no then.
O.U.C.H. That’s pretty much the ultimate confirmation that I am a truly
terrible person. And that I have gravely offended God. I feel like shit. I HATE
myself. ANXIETYPRESSURESADNESSSHAME. Hello horrible evil coping/distraction
mechanisms I’m still addicted to. I’ve missed you. I’m terrible for thinking
that. Who admits that they’ve missed their sins?!” SADNESS
Called up that sister missionary.
Sister: “I just started dating a
guy and I need to see where it goes”
My mouth: -probably something
really awkward that tried and failed to mask the hurt-
My brain: SHAME. God took her away
from you because you’re not worthy and she is too good of a person to be ruined
by you. SHAME. OUCH. So much SADNESS too.
Time to head back to BYU. YAY! Yay?
Every priesthood leader (and their
wives) in Provo: “date. date. date. date. date. date. date. date. get married.
get married. get married. get married. get married. get married. get married. get
married. get married. It’ll give you the most happiness ever!!!
Most priesthood leaders and Peter Priesthood
Elder’s Quorum Presidents: “If you’re not going on 500 dates a week you’re not
fulfilling your priesthood obligations and you should be embarrassed and you
should feel bad and look at all the poor single girls who just want to go on a
date and you’re a terrible person if you aren’t dating them”
My brain: SHAMESHAMESHAMESHAMESHAME
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. ANXIETY. Dating makes me so anxious. The
expectations. The pressure. ANXIETY. I can’t handle this! Can’t let it get
serious with anyone because if it gets serious I will HAVE to talk about all my
problems with them and I am NOT ready for that. ANXIETY. And no sane girl would
ever stick around after finding out that I’m attracted to men and NOT attracted
to her and that trying to be with her makes me feel so anxious I want to die.
Plus ANXIETY. Plus SHAME. Plus I find her dad and her brothers more attractive
than her. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! I’m a terrible person. I’m disgusting. That is
just sick and wrong!” SHAME.
Every single group date I went on:
My brain: I’d rather be on a date
with that guy in our group. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! On paper this girl is
perfect, and she’s beautiful. Why don’t I feel attracted to her at all? Why is there
no spark like there was with Brianne during my freshman year? WHY AM I SO DANG
ANXIOUS?! I’m flawed, I’m broken. What’s wrong with me? Hello awful addicting coping
mechanisms. SHAME. “I’m bad”
I spoke to every bishop I had at BYU about my addictions.
Nothing ever came of it. Except for me feeling like a failure because I
couldn’t be stronger than my addictions.
At a Ray Family Reunion: One of my aunts who married into
the Ray family shared with the Ray siblings (my parents/aunts/uncles) that she
had a niece on her side of the family who was a lesbian and wanted to bring her
partner to a family reunion and how it was tearing that side of the family
apart. And this got my own aunts and uncles talking about how they would handle
such a situation. I don’t remember the specifics of what was said but I
remember that the tone scared me into the very back of the closet and convinced
me that I would NEVER come out to my family because it would ruin everything.
SHAME. ANXIETY.
Junior year. Hello beautiful tall girl with brown hair. I
want to date you. Wait, what? Did my brain really just say that? Yup. Sure did.
She’s cute! Date her. ANXIETY. She’s way out of my league. ANXIETY. I’m not
ready to talk about my problems. ANXIETY. I’m such a terrible person that I don’t
even want to tell her how I feel about her because I truly believe she will see
all of my ugly horribleness and reject me. ANXIETY. But this is the only girl
I’ve actually been interested in since that sister at the end of the mission. I
can’t pass this up! ANXIETY.
To make a long story short I ended up forming this really
unhealthy attachment to the idea of marrying Liz and being normal. Sorry Liz.
:-/ We weren’t very compatible, but I was blind to that because THIS IS MY
CHANCE TO BE NORMAL! She dated a few guys, I hung back in the shadows but at
the same time became great friends with her. We eventually decided to date but
in the very same conversation decided that wasn’t a good idea. Shortest
relationship ever. CRUSHED my heart. But I couldn’t let go of this chance of
normalcy so I did everything I could to remain friends with her. And we did
remain friends and it took a while but eventually I was ok, and I think she was
ok too. And there was still hope because we were still friends. But I was too
scared to ever make a move and I was anxious. So anxious all the time.
During winter semester of my junior year I was knocked flat
on my back by deep, dark depression but I had no idea what depression was. All
I knew is that happiness didn’t exist anymore, nothing good existed anymore, I
couldn’t sleep, I quit trying to avoid my additions because they were my one
and only source of relief, I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t get up in the
morning, I couldn’t study, I skipped a lot of class, I sat doing nothing for
hours on end. I looked forward to going to work because work was distraction
from how awful I was feeling. I had no idea how dysfunctional I had become. And
I hid it from everyone because I’m good at hiding ugly things and I didn’t want
to burden others with my problems. I found a new coping mechanism: shopping.
BUY ALL THE THINGS! I started with all the parts I needed to build a
ridiculously nice mountain bike. And of course only the best things will do.
After the bike it was camping things. After camping things it was skiing and
snowboarding things. And a study abroad. And a nice camera. And clothes. And
food. And EVERYTHING and ANYTHING I could rationalize that I “needed”.
I was put on academic probation and called in to talk to an
academic counselor
Counselor: “you should probably
choose a new career path because you’re never going to get accepted to medical
school”
That was a huge slap in the face. I’ve never been so pissed
off in my life.” Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do lady?! I’ll
show you! Just watch. I’ll prove you wrong.” I think my anger helped bring me
out of depression maybe.
During my first and then second senior years (haha!) the
cognitive dissonance I had been feeling since 11 years old started to simmer
and build. By the time I graduated it was at a rolling boil. My soul was
tearing in half. I was more anxious than ever. I was more emotionally
distraught than ever. No way could I choose one (my faith) and drop the other
(my attractions) because it just doesn’t work like that and either way I have
to sacrifice something HUGE and I don’t want to sacrifice either things because
they’re both such big important things. I’ve felt too much from the spirit to
reject the gospel now. I know it’s true. Darn that incessant testimony! It
would be so easy if I could just walk away and not feel guilty. But I can’t
reject it and I don’t want to reject it because I value it and I believe it and
appreciate how it shaped and molded me as I grew up. But I really like men and
that is here to stay and I’m really lonely and I’m watching everyone get
married and have babies and I want that too but I’m stuck and I still believe
that I’m bad and undesirable and ugly inside and out and broken and a mess and
despite YEARS of praying for God to somehow fix me he hasn’t. Am I not worth
fixing? Do I lack faith? What’s wrong with me. SHAME
Every extended family event ever:
Family member: “so are you dating
anyone?”
My mouth: laugh’s it off and says
“No…..(smiles) No. Not right now.”
My brain: “PRESSURE PRESSURE PRESSURE
PRESSURE PRESSURE PRESSURE PRESSURE PRESSURE. I’m a failure. Are they starting
to wonder about me? They’ve got to be wondering. FEAR. Here come the jokes
about being a menace to society. Ouch. Anxiety. I’m lonely. Sadness. I’m a
failure.
Family member: “I know this great
girl, can I set you up with her”
My mouth: “………….sure”
My brain: ANXIETY. PRESSURE. I’d
rather die. I can’t say no because what if they start asking questions? Plus
are they going to be disappointed if I decline? Anxiety. I’m a failure. I’m
bad. I feel AWFUL about myself > addiction > I really am a failure > I
hate myself.
My brain weeks later: why haven’t I
called that girl yet? I hope so-and-so doesn’t bring it up. Crap. They brought
it up. And they told me that the girl is waiting for me to call….so I really
should call. But I’m ANXIOUS and I hate the pressure. I feel like if I don’t
like the girl then I’ll be letting so-and-so down. Yuck. This is silly. Why am
I so nervous about this? It’s just a simple date. I should call her. Nope. Too
anxious.
To all the girls I was supposed to call or email or text or
seek out on facebook and ask on a date:
I’m
sorry I never tried to contact you. I’ve since learned that many of you were
hurt by this, that you blamed yourselves, that you wondered what’s wrong with
you and “Why won’t he just call?! Am I not worth calling?”
I’m so very sorry.
SHAME. ANXIETY.
Time to take the MCAT. ANXIETY ANXIETY ANXIETY ANXIETY ANXIETY
ANXIETY. I can’t concentrate. I can’t study. I barely scraped by my college
chemistry classes. I should be studying. I can’t concentrate. I’m a failure
> I feel AWFUL about myself > addiction > I really am a failure > I
hate myself. But in my patriarchal blessing it says that I will have success in
the career of my choice. Does my patriarchal blessing really count anymore? I’m
not worthy of those blessings. Shame. I should be studying. I can’t
concentrate. Postpone. I can’t concentrate. Postpone. I can’t postpone anymore
because this is the last test date of the year and if I don’t take it now I
lose out on the $400 I paid to register for this stupid test.
God must have guided my pencil to the bubble sheet because I
walked away with a score that was 2 points above the national average. Maybe
there was hope after all. Why did God help me? I don’t deserve His help. Look
at me! I’m terrible and I’m flagrantly breaking his commandments. SHAME.
Applying to 23 medical schools was awful. And expensive. And
all the rejection letters were devastating. I really am a failure. Thankfully
one school took a chance on me. God I’m sure you orchestrated that somehow.
Thanks? I can’t believe you’re still helping me. I’ll try to do better. A week
goes by. I’m not doing any better. I’m worse. I’m bad. SHAME.
Time to go to medical school. I’m going to go crazy because
my soul is ripping in half and I don’t know how to handle it and I’m too afraid
to talk about it. No one knows I’m coming out to school. No one expects me at
church. It would be so easy to just not go. SADNESS. Thankfully God made sure I
ran into Tyler and Brittany Jones at the bank just a few short hours after I
landed on the island of Dominica. Brittany was alone in the bank looking terrified.
She had her little daughter in a stroller. I knew she was LDS because I just
knew it. I was overcome with a HUGE compulsion to talk to her. I couldn’t NOT
talk to her. Tyler shows up. He’s 2 feet taller than her. Aaaaaaaand those are
his garments sticking out the bottom of his basketball shorts. I KNEW they were
LDS. We chatted a bit while I was waiting in line. As they got ready to leave
Brittany asked me if I was coming to church on Sunday. I had all but decided
that I wasn’t going to go. But now someone wants me there.
THUNDERING FEELING FROM GOD TELLING ME THAT HE WANTS ME AT
CHURCH TOO.
Ok then God. I hear ya loud and clear. I can’t quit going to
church because just…nope. Not an option. I have GOT to figure out a way to
reconcile the parts of myself that have been fighting each other for so long.
I’m so exhausted of the fighting.
Brittany and Tyler you guys played such a pivotal role in my
life. I love you guys. Tyler ended up being called as our branch president down
there. I had prayed and prayed and prayed that God would choose someone I felt
safe talking to. Sorry Tyler. If you’ve ever wondered why you got that calling
and the stress that came with it you can blame it on me J
Fast forward to Christmas break. I flew into SLC because it
was way cheaper than flying into Boise. Liz lives in Salt Lake. I want to see
Liz because she is one of my closest friends. Had a great 3 hour conversation
with Liz, said goodbye and left and started backing out of her driveway and
suddenly she’s at my passenger side window. And she’s crying and she starts
talking a million miles a minute and I have no idea what she’s saying and she
gets in the car with me and keeps talking and crying and I swear I didn’t catch
any of it until the last sentence
“…name one reason why we’re not
dating”
My brain: oh no. OH no! Oh NO! oh
no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no . NOOOO! It’s happening. This
can’t be happening. That moment I’ve been dreading my whole entire life is
happening. RIGHT NOW. I’m not ready for this. I feel so anxious I want to throw
up and crawl under a rock and cease to exist. Do I trust Liz enough to open up
to her?
God: you should trust Liz
So I told her. And that was the most terrifying experience
of my life. And she was perfect.
Liz: -looks at me and cocks her
head a bit- …..”I know….” Laughs
And I about died. Does EVERYBODY know?! ANXIETY is gonna
kill me dead right this very minute.
Liz: “I
mean, I didn’t KNOW know, but I have the gift of discernment and I just…..knew.
And it’s ok. And you’re not a bad person because you’re attracted to men…”
Never in my life had I heard anyone say that. It totally
rocked my world. Liz was a champ. She was the perfect person to be the first to
tell about my secrets.
So in a matter of a few hours we went from friends to
dating. Like DATING dating and talking about marriage and did I think I could I
marry her? And the whole time my brain was screaming because it was anxious and
also because this is my shot at being normal!
We jumped into things WAY way way way to fast. I was a train
wreck inside and had no business getting into a relationship at all. I shared
everything with Liz. No more secrets and it scared me to death and it also scared
her to death. Rightfully so. I desperately tried to hold on to her even though
I was anxious beyond any anxiousness I’d ever felt. It was the unhealthy
attachment to her. That’s what I was holding on to. I was madly in love with
the idea of marrying her and being normal. It was complicated and confusing and
relieving and terrifying and wonderful and awful all at the same time. Before
Christmas break was over she was having MAJOR doubts about the whole thing
because of course she was. I don’t blame her at all, but you better believe I
blamed myself. I understood why she had to go. It broke my heart. Again. It’s
my fault. I’m a mess. Of course she left. God must have warned her to get out.
He doesn’t want me to ruin her life either. No girl in her right mind would
ever take this on. SHAME > emotional pain > addiction > everything is
worse.
Christmas break is over so it’s time to go back to school
and loneliness and stress. In case you didn’t know, medical school is really
ridiculously hard. It’s HARD. It’s hard when you’re in good mental/emotional
health. I was NOT. And I was getting worse. Couldn’t sleep, really struggled to
concentrate, was super lonely. Yuck. I felt like I was going
check-me-into-the-loony-bin crazy. My soul had almost torn all the way through.
My emotions were out of control. Gay me and Spiritual me were shooting nuclear
bombs at each other every waking moment of every day without any rest or any
sign of stopping. Ever. I felt out of control. It was scary. I didn’t want to
go talk to the schools counselors because I worried they’d advise me to drop my
faith and accept who I was and move on. I ended up googling the nearest LDS
Family Services office. It was in Florida. I called anyway and pretty much word
vomited my predicament while sobbing to the poor receptionist who answered.
Sorry receptionist. I’m pretty sure I freaked you out a little bit. A few days
later she emailed me a list of LDS counselors and for who knows what reason I
chose to email Kyle. I’ve heard from lots of people that usually you kinda have
to shop around to a few different counselors in order to find one that’s a good
match for you. It’s a good thing Kyle was the one for me because mentally I
couldn’t go much longer without getting some serious professional help.
Counseling was both wonderful and awful. I went with Kyle
because the tiny bit I read about him revealed that much of his practice was
built around helping men with same sex attractions reduce/eliminate those
attractions. Now, even though he did NOT promise a change in orientation what
he offered sounded great to me. It gave me hope that I could be fixed and I
could be normal and would eventually be ready to marry a woman and not feel
anxious about that and it would be great because that means I CAN HAVE HOPE
AGAIN!!!!!!! This type of counseling or therapy has turned into a very controversial
thing. There are ongoing legal proceedings about whether or not it’s consumer
fraud. I don’t want to get into all of that now. But you should know that I did
willingly choose to give it a shot. And I talked to a lot of people who had
been through it. For some it worked really well. For others it worked
marginally. For still others it didn’t work at all. I decided it was worth a
shot. The premise of conversion therapy is that during childhood you experience
emotional wounds around masculinity, men, boys your age, girls your age, women,
etc. which lead you down a path that ends up with you being attracted to the
wrong sex. The solution is to comb through your history for those emotional
wounds, revisit the trauma and examine it and learn from it and honor it, and
LET YOU BODY FEEL THE FEELINGS SURROUNDING IT which allows your body to
naturally resolve it so you can finally let it go. If you work through all the wounds your
attractions will diminish. Revisiting every painful experience you can ever
remember is awful. AWFUL. It was unbelievably emotionally and mentally taxing.
It was hell. But despite that I think it’s also necessary. Yes, it broke me. It
uncovered problems I didn’t even know I had. And it revealed horrible things I
believed about myself. You can gather what they were based on how often I
repeated them on this post. The end result was that I came to believe that I
was a horrible monster who wasn’t worth being loved by anyone – God included.
What an ugly thing to believe about myself. And realizing that I wholeheartedly
thought that belief was true was devastating. It was horrifying. But Kyle was
there to help me sort through the mess and one of the most important things he
taught me is that my emotions won’t kill me. My entire life I had done
everything imaginable to avoid feeling the ugly, sad, dark, nasty feelings
because I was terrified of them because I had no idea how to handle them. I’m
not trying to justify my misdeeds but it’s no wonder I got so trapped in
horrible awful addictions. They gave me fleeting and relieving escapes of
pleasure from a world of non-stop emotional torment. And I had to learn to have
some compassion for the broken person I had become because that was the first
step in learning how to love myself.
It took 4 months to work through my fears of people finding
out about me. FOUR. MONTHS. I was that terrified. The first 6 months of
counseling were spent on undoing all the damage that carrying my secrets had
caused me. It was hard and it was awful but the end result has been amazing. I
have more self-worth than I ever have. I love myself and all my flaws. I was
never able to honestly say that before. I have compassion for myself even when
I make mistakes. I became centered and whole as a person. I learned how to
recognize and focus on my emotions. I learned how to ground myself on something
safe and feel what I needed to feel until my body found its way back to emotional
stability and peace. I learned healthy ways to handle emotions – the most
important of which is to LET MYSELF FEEL THEM. Our bodies were designed to feel
so many different wonderful and awful and scary and peaceful and incredible
emotions and they were also designed to naturally resolve those emotions.
Sometimes it’s through crying. Sometimes it’s through being held. Sometimes
it’s by safely letting out some anger. Many of us can only identify with crying
because that tends to just happen. Why do we cry? Because that’s how our bodies
are designed to resolve the emotions that make us cry. Now you know why you
feel better after crying. It’s because the emotion has safely passed and you
actually DO feel better. You have let yourself feel the emotion to completion
and your body has resolved it and you’re left feeling better. It’s sad that
applying these principles is so tough. Emotions are scary and powerful things.
I still struggle to avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms. It’s mentally exhausting
to sit and focus on an unpleasant feeling and let it completely wash over you
until you have felt ALL of it. It’s one of the most taxing things I’ve ever
done, but it leaves me feeling a whole lot better. Looking back on my life I
think I would have come through with a lot less baggage had I been taught what
emotions were and how to handle them. This is NOT me blaming my parents. They
had no idea how to do this either. Nobody had any idea. I would encourage
everyone to educate yourselves about this – and to educate your kids from the
very beginning.
Moving on.
The 2nd 6 months of counseling we sorted through
every emotional scar I could dig up surrounding masculinity and men and guys my
age and girls my age and women and sex and arousal and all of that. It was
awesome to learn why things played out the way they did and to see that my poor
brain was doing the best it knew how to protect me from feeling emotional pain.
Unfortunately, without training our brains have no idea what they’re doing. I’m
so glad we worked through the many issues I never knew I had. I really came to
own my own masculinity. I stopped fearing forming meaningful relationships with
guys. Now that I wasn’t afraid of my secret being found out I wasn’t afraid to
get close and let other guys get close to me. For the first time in my life I
developed deep and meaningful friendships with a LOT of guys and it was AWESOME
and it’s STILL awesome. I worked through my fears of being rejected by my
peers. Those fears often kept me from even attempting to form friendships. You
know why. I feared that if they found out about the true me inside I’d
ultimately be rejected and I didn’t want to risk having to face that. I worked
through intense body image issues. I had surgery to correct Gynecomastia. Look
it up. It’s no wonder I had body image issues. My body wasn’t normal. Now that
it is normal I am continually surprised and pleased with how attractive I find
myself. Hahaha! I’m sure that sounds
terribly vain but it’s true. I had never thought of myself as attractive or
desirable or beautiful or masculine or sexy or anything other than ugly and
disfigured. Boy was that a nice issue to let go of. I learned to stop seeing
men as eye candy and start seeing them as human beings that I should actually
get to know. I learned so much.
There was a problem though. As we were working through all
these issues that centered on why I was gay I theoretically should have felt my
attractions to men diminish. The fact that I was developing so many healthy
friendships with guys was also supposed to diminish my attractions to men. In
reality the opposite happened. I wasn’t attracted to the friends I was making
because I was having my needs for emotionally intimacy met. I felt platonically
close to them which is what I had been longing for. But I was still found other
men attractive and I still wasn’t attracted to women. And my hope of change and
becoming normal started to crumble and it was so very disappointing. “why isn’t
this working for me? I’m trying, God! I am doing everything I can think of to
change! Why can’t I change? What’s wrong with me?” And SHAME reared its ugly
head again. For so long I had held onto the hope that somehow, someday I could
be normal and find a good LDS girl who I could love and who could love me and
all my problems and who I would feel ok about getting married in the temple to.
But the more I worked through my emotional traumas the more obvious the lack of
change became. It was crushing. Once again, hopes were dashed. It literally
felt like someone died. I mourned. Alone. I had finally opened up to a large
portion of my family about who I was and my intentions of diminishing my
attractions to men and committing to living gospel principles. I couldn’t bear
to let them know that it wasn’t working. They had all been so happy with me and
encouraging and I couldn’t bear to disappoint them. And suddenly the cognitive
dissonance was back in full force and I felt more torn than ever and I was
lonely and I was tired of being lonely and I wanted to start dating and I knew
that I wanted to date men and I was sad and I was confused and I was unhappy.
And then I got depressed again but it was SO much worse than it was when I was
at BYU. And for the first time ever I felt completely disconnected from God
which had never happened before and it was very disconcerting and unnerving and
confusing because I had been trying so hard to do what is right and do all I
could to change. Was it my fault that I wasn’t experiencing any change?
And there I remained stuck. Unable to choose between two
different worlds. Unable to reconcile those worlds to each other. Unwilling to
disappoint my family. Unable to see any possible outcome that would leave all
parties feeling at peace. I spent hours thinking entire lifetimes down as many
different pathways as I could think of and NONE of them ended in happiness. And
this brought on despair. Hope was dead. Happiness was dead. Peace was dead.
Dreams of normalcy were dead. I wanted to be dead. I almost did it. The only
thing that stopped me was the dog I had with me. I was worried about what would
happen to him. There was nothing else stopping me from jumping off that
overpass right into freeway traffic. That’s how awful it got. It was agony. And
my counselor didn’t know how to help me because he recognized that I was stuck
and didn’t want to sway me in one direction or another so for months on end we
spent every session with me lying on my bed sobbing uncontrollably because the
place I was stuck at was literally killing me.
Aside from Kyle nobody knew what an awful state I was in. A
lifetime of putting on a happy face when you’re feeling like shit inside came
in really handy. Thankfully I successfully finished up the bit of school I had
to do and moved home with my parents. I think I scared my dad to death because
of how completely dysfunctional I was. It was at his urging that I sought out a
professional to help me find a better medication combo because clearly the one
I was on was NOT working – and I was so dysfunctional I didn’t even realize it
wasn’t working. My life was in shambles. I had racked up $25,000 of credit card
debt by buying all the things in the entire world while trying to find
happiness. I had failed and repeated a semester of medical school effectively
wasting an additional $30,000. By this point I had failed my schools required
practice board exam 3 times. Nothing was working. Everything was awful. Life
was hell and it took all I could muster just to roll out of bed in the morning
and stumble down the stairs just to collapse on the couch and spend the whole
day there wishing I could just cease to exist.
And then I had people start telling me I was depressed
because I was breaking commandments. Yeah, I was deeply entrenched in my
pornography addiction but Really? REALLY?! One of the biggest reasons I started
turning to pornography in the first place was to escape all the hurt I was
feeling. I didn’t know how else to find relief. Talk about kicking someone when
they’re down. I had been trying so hard with
professional help for almost two years to do and become the right thing. And
I had been trying on my own ever since that first lesson on the law of
chastity. Could they not see that? Were they really so ignorant to believe that
depression is always caused by sin? How dare they! If Elder Holland can give a
conference talk about the fact that depression is real and is caused by
physical and chemical problems in your brain then NOBODY has the right to
automatically assume that depression is brought on by sin. It’s time to put
that one to bed for good.
It took 5 weeks to finally find a drug combo that worked for
me. The months of June July August and September of 2014 were so awful I can’t
even put it into words. But one day midway through September the most bizarre
thing in the world happened when I woke up and realized “Oh! I’m back! I feel
like myself. And I’m happy. And the feeling of drowning and being smothered is
gone. And the fog is lifted. And hi God, I can feel you again.” This happened
on the same day I had my appointment with Kyle. I was still stuck, unwilling to
disappoint my family. Kyle brought to my attention that being stuck there had
made me so unhappy that I almost killed myself. He walked me through an
exercise:
“Pretend you are the only person
that exists. There are no other people, no society, no family, no pressures,
nothing. It’s just you.” I asked if God was there and Kyle asked if I wanted
Him to be there. Of course I wanted Him there. He’s always been there and I’ve
always known He’s been there even when I couldn’t feel Him because depression
was hiding Him from me.
“OK, so it’s you and God and that’s
it. Who are you attracted to?”
“I’m a son of God and I’m attracted
to men and I feel like I am at peace with God.” Never in my life have I felt
God’s love so intensely. It was as if God was speaking to me. Telling me,
“Macsen I know you. I know who you are and I understand you and the impossible
situation you’re in and I want you to be happy and it’s ok if you start dating
men. It’s ok. You’re ok. I love you. It’s ok.”
This is something that I have only shared with a select few.
I stopped talking about it because nearly everyone freaked out. “You’re
delusional”….“That is in direct opposition to the commandments”…..“That cannot
have come from God”….etc.
Here’s the deal though. It does not matter what you think
because it was between God and myself and that’s the ONLY relationship that
really should hold power over me. I don’t have to live my life so that you are
pleased with my choices. What matters is what God thinks of my choices. I know
that what God told me flies in the face of doctrine. God knows that too. But He
also knows the complexities of life and love that come to LGBT members of the
church. I’m not excusing or rationalizing my behavior. Nor do I think God gave
me a free pass. I have no idea how to explain it and I don’t know why He did
it. But nobody can tell me it wasn’t real and that it wasn’t from Him. There is
NO way that the devil could imitate the feelings of love and peace I felt
during this experience. And I walked away feeling hopeful that there was a spot
for me somewhere in the plan of salvation and that just maybe God didn’t want
me to be alone.
So I started going on dates. And my family FREAKED out. And
I knew they’d freak out. And I thought I was prepared for the freak-out but I
wasn’t. While everything that was said to me was doctrinally true the
presentation and the vitriol and the tone was harsh and cold and it hurt
because it was coming from the people I care about most in the whole world who
I had desperately hoped would have my back and would try to understand. My
parents tried to be ok with things but just couldn’t. It was too much too fast
too soon. I don’t blame them. I ended up
moving out to keep the peace. That shattered my world. Gone was the support
system I thought I would be able to rely on. It was completely obliterated and
it was awful. And I’m sorry if this is making my parents and siblings feel bad.
I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. I understand why it happened. Please
don’t be mad at me for sharing this with the world.
I’m glad my relationships with my family members weren’t
irreparably damaged. Things were rough for a bit. I didn’t talk to them. They
didn’t talk to me. I was terrified to start talking again because I didn’t want
another onslaught. Slowly we managed to work through it. I gave them the
benefit of the doubt and chose to move beyond the hurt because I love them.
It turns out dating is really fun when you actually date the
sex you’re attracted to. I met a lot of really nice guys but something was always
missing. I wanted to find someone who shared my background and my beliefs and
who wanted to live how I wanted to live. From the very beginning I have
promised God that I will remain involved in his kingdom no matter what and I
intend to honor that promise. I quickly realized that finding someone like me
would be nearly impossible. I met a lot of really nice guys online who were
raised LDS but had fallen away and didn’t miss it and couldn’t see why I wanted
to stay. I ended up dating a catholic guy for a while. He knew a lot about
Mormon culture because while growing up he lived next door to a missionary
apartment. But I never really felt settled and knew that something important
was missing. We broke it off and parted ways.
I talked to God a lot about dating. I never felt like I was
horribly offending him. I never felt like I was distanced from him. I never
felt guilty which surprised me. I continued to feel horribly guilty about my
pornography use, but not about dating. I don’t know how to explain any of that.
But because I felt at peace with God I continued on the path I was on.
I had little hope I would actually find someone who wanted
the same things I wanted, I mean, come on! What are there odds?! There can’t be
very many gay guys in the church who have a testimony and won’t ever leave it
but don’t want to spend a lifetime alone so they’re looking for someone just
like themselves who would remain active (meaning would never stop going) no
matter what. Seriously there can’t be more than 100 or so. Probably even fewer
than that.
So when I found him it was a total shock.
Both of us felt like our meeting was orchestrated by God. I
understand that many people won’t like the sound of that. Why would God
orchestrate the introduction of two people who would then break His
commandments? I have no idea. Jarrett was in the middle of a move from Portland
to Bountiful. He was temporarily staying at his parent’s house just a few miles
away from where I live. Now, there aren’t many avenues for LGBT members of the
church to meet each other so we turn to our only options: Dating apps.
Specifically gay dating apps. Sue me. Let me tell you there are tons of guys on
there who are only looking for their next piece of meat. So there was a lot of
sifting to do. Every once in a while I would start chatting with a decent
fellow. I only met a fraction of those good guys in person. I managed to meet 2
or 3 guys in my area who were raised LDS, but had since fallen away. Jarrett
hadn’t dated anyone for a long time. Over a year I think. He hadn’t been on any
of the dating apps in months. For whatever reason on August 5th of
2015 he decided to log on. I was scrolling through and his profile photo was on
my feed and it was of him standing on a mountain top which is usually a pretty
good indicator that he’s not just looking for something of a carnal nature. So
I opened up his profile and read his little bio and liked what I read so I
started messaging him. Pretty quickly we found out we were both LDS. Based on
how many LDS guys I had come across while dating the fact that he was LDS was
enough of a reason for me to want to ask him on a date. So I did…...for the
very next day. Jarr later told me that as a rule he never went out with someone
so quickly because a few weeks of texting usually reveals if the guy is a
weirdo. I’m glad he broke his rule. He got to the restaurant first. When I
walked in he was sitting on the bench facing away from me chatting with the
hostess. He turned around and stood up and flashed a big huge smile at me and I
was sunk. Hook, line and sinker. Head. Over. Heals. Yes it happened that quickly
for me. I hadn’t eaten all day and was starving. I’m sure I looked ridiculous
eating as fast as I did. I was kinda happy it didn’t throw him off. Haha!
Conversation was even better than it was over text. That’s a big deal because
90% of the guys I went on dates with couldn’t hold a face to face conversation
to save their lives. Neither of us wanted to be done after dinner so we went
for a walk on the greenbelt and told each other our entire life stories. That’s
kind of what you do when you meet another LGBT Mormon. We talked for 6 or 7 hours
straight that night. And the next night. And the next….Talking to Jarrett has
always been easy. We both proceeded forward full steam ahead, totally unafraid
of opening up our hearts so quickly. Unbeknownst to each other we both asked
God if it was ok to proceed. Both of us felt at peace about it. I don’t know
how to explain that. But proceed we did and it was fun! And it was exciting!
And it was powerful! And it was meaningful. And it was deep. And it was safe.
And it was warm. And it was peaceful. And it was bliss. And it felt like coming
home. And in just a few short days it felt like I had known him for years.
Eternities even. This was the first time I opened up 100% of my heart and truly
fell in love with someone. I couldn’t ever do that with girls because I was SO
dang anxious about everything.
8 days after we met I
brought Jarret to go camping with my family and extended Viehweg family. It was
just us in the car and it was a 4 hour drive and we never ran out of things to
talk about. Nor did we run out of thing to talk about while sightseeing in
Yellowstone. Nor did we run out of things to talk to on the 4 hour drive back
home. I did something crazy during the drive home. We were working our way
through the 32 questions to fall in love (google it). In answer to one of them I
told him I wanted to marry him which was insane! The rule of those questions is
to say the first thing that comes to your mind and that was the only one that I
was seriously tempted to cheat on. Much to my surprise he said he’d been
thinking the same thing. Who does that?! Who in their right mind starts
seriously contemplating marriage that quickly?! I guess we both know how it
feels to be one of those crazy couples that gets engaged after 23 minutes of
knowing each other. I still can’t believe I wasn’t scared to death by the
situation. Jarrett couldn’t believe he wasn’t either. Of course we couldn’t
tell anyone in our families about any of this. They’d FREAK. We knew we’d have
to wait – probably a really long time but – that didn’t bother us.
Jarrett had to move to Bountiful UT before the end of August.
He wants to go to Occupational Therapy school at the University of Utah so he’s
becoming a resident of the state to take advantage of cheaper tuition. We were
sad to be so far apart but neither of us were worried in the slightest. I saw
him when I went down there. He saw me when he came up to Boise. We spent hours
talking on the phone and facetiming. Things felt so right and both of us really
started looking forward to eventually building a life together – especially the
little insignificant thing like doing dishes, grocery shopping, cooking and
folding laundry together. At one point in our lives both of us hoped
desperately that somehow we could make marriage to a woman work. Those hopes
were dashed as we pursued every avenue available to change or diminish or learn
to live with and manage our attractions and none of the things we tried worked.
For Jarrett and I that broken hope of somehow making things work with a woman
was replaced by the hope of being together and trying the best we could to live
the principles of the Gospel. On the third day we knew each other we made it
very clear to each other that that is what we wanted. I promised to Jarrett
that if either of us ever felt moved by the spirit that our life together was
wrong we would do whatever it takes to align ourselves with God’s will. Both of
us believed and hoped that if that were to happen it would be years down the
road.
Jarrett came up to his parent’s house for conference weekend.
Unbeknownst to me for the week leading up to conference he had been feeling
that God wanted him to stop being romantic with me. Jarr struggled to know if
it was his own insecurities talking or if it was actually God so he fasted and
prayed that if it was truly God’s will that we stop walking down the path we
were on that I would feel it too. We agreed to spend Saturday at his parent’s
house, go with our own fathers to priesthood session and then spend Sunday at
my parent’s house. Saturday morning I could feel that something inside my heart
wasn’t right. I knew what it was but I didn’t want to admit it. I spent the
entire day pleading with God that I wasn’t feeling the things that I was
feeling. Begging him not to ask me to forsake the man I had come to love so
dearly. By priesthood session my uneasiness had progressed to a full volume roar
inside me. During President Monson’s talk I felt so strongly that God was
telling me to break off the romance that it was palpable.
God: “This is now wrong. You need
to stop. Stop. STOP. STOP. STOP.”
Me: “why? Oh God why? It hurts. I
hurt. I hear you even though I don’t want to. Please God no!!! Not Jarrett!
Please don’t make me give up Jarrett! Please don’t ask me to be alone again! Is
this really what you are asking me to do?! The only way I’ll do it is if I have
zero doubt that this is your will.”
God: “STOP. It has to stop. You
must stop. STOP IT. STOP.”
I saw Jarrett later that night. I think we both knew what we
were feeling big huge scary things but neither of us wanted to talk about it
very much. We agreed to wait until the end of conference before making any
major decisions.
Sunday I experienced the same feelings. I have no idea what
was said at all because all I was hearing was God telling me to stop. We left
my parent’s house pretty quickly after the last session was over. Jarret had to
get back to Nampa; his ride was set to leave less than an hour later. He had
picked me up on the way to my parent’s house and when he dropped me off he came
up to my apartment to say goodbye. We were both very somber when we got to my
room. We knew what was coming. We embraced each other, clinging as tightly as
we could.
Jarrett: “Tell me what you’re
feeling”
My mouth: “I don’t know…….I don’t
know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know…….
But I knew. Oh how I knew what God demanded to be done and
oh how it broke my heart. At that moment I was more worried about Jarrett than
I was myself. I didn’t want to hurt him. We had talked extensively about how
afraid we were of being alone and the dark places that took our minds to. I
tried to maintain my composure but I couldn’t and I started to weep and shake my
head no.
Jarrett began to cry: “So you felt it too?”
I nodded. He started to suggest that we wait a few days…
Me: “It’s not gonna matter. We could wait a day…a week, a
year. It doesn’t matter. I know what I felt and I cannot deny it.”
Jarrett was nodding his head. He knew it as much as I knew
it. And we both had no doubt that it was from God and that waiting wouldn’t
change things. And he hated it every bit as much as I did. We stood there
looking into each other’s eyes and watching each other’s hearts and hopes and
dreams crumble to pieces. Watching that wash over his face was absolutely
horrific. I would rather die than experience that again. He left and I
collapsed on my bed weeping like I have never wept before. I texted my dad
about what had just happened. He came over and climbed into bed with me to hold
me as my soul was breaking.
Me: “It’s not fair. You raised us
not to pull that card but it’s true! It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not
fair. It’s not fair.”
Dad: “No……..no it’s not fair”
Me: “Dad I broke his heart! I broke
his heart! I broke his heart! You should have seen the look on his face!” …
“Why did God make me this way? Why did God allow my life to end up this way?”…
“What is the point of my existence?!” … “Does He really want me to be alone
like this?”
Dad just held me and cried with me which was exactly what I
needed.
The days since then have been very bleak. I cry a lot. My
heart is broken. It’s raw and it hurts. And it’s not ok. And I’m not ok. And
I’m not going to be ok for a long, long, LONG time. I don’t feel happier. I
don’t feel at peace. I don’t feel comfort.
Jarrett and I still talk and we still see each other from
time to time. Neither of us felt like God told us to walk away entirely – nor
do we want to. We still love each other very much. But where there once was nothing
but openness and love in our hearts there are now walls and fear. We can’t be
as open to each other as we used to be. And that hurts. Our hearts are lonely
again and the walls of protection and distance are being rebuilt. I miss him. I
miss spending time with him. I miss the reassuring feeling of his touch. I miss
listening to him. I miss sharing every detail of my day with him. I miss having
someone to focus my love toward. I am not ok. I don’t see how this will ever be
ok.
I wonder if others can understand how scary, lonely and
empty facing a lifetime with no spouse, no family, no specific person to focus
your love on really is. I can only speak for myself but when loneliness comes
up in conversation everyone one is so quick to jump in and in rapid-fire style
shoot off an entire list of reasons why I’m not really alone: “But there’s always your siblings” “What about your
nieces and nephews?” “Your ward can be your family” “There are other ways to
find fulfillment” “You can choose to be happy” ad nauseum. Inevitably Sheri Dew
comes up. Now, I have nothing against Sheri Dew. But really, LGBT members are
NOT in the same boat as her. Really we are not. I know all of these points are
well meaning and come from a place of love but BOY do they hurt and man do they
feel hollow. My siblings have families of their own or the can hope for
families of their own. My nieces and nephews have parents of their own. I love
spending time with them, but they’re not mine to love or to parent. Wards are
wonderful places to connect with people but you know what? At the end of the
day I go home to an empty house and sleep in an empty bed. And unlike Sheri Dew
or any other single and straight member of the church for me there is NO hope that
the loneliness will end until the day I take our last breath. Sheri Dew and
Sister Single-and-Sad and Brother Alone-and-Distraught all can hold out hope
that someday they’ll find someone who they can take to the temple. No matter
what there is no way I will ever be able to do that with a man. Ever. Do you
realize just how awful that is? When it comes to love and marriage and family there
is NOTHING I can hope for. Is it any wonder why so many of us struggle with
suicidal thoughts?
“God I’ve figured out my test. Can I please check out early?
I cannot bear the thought of being with this loneliness for another 30-40-50
years.” I won’t lie; checking out early has been on my mind. I can’t help it. I
realize it’s not a rational thought. I’m not making any plans so please don’t
freak out. Can you honestly look me in the eyes and say that if you were in my
shoes feeling what I’m feeling and facing what I’m facing that you would feel
any different? That you would be happy? “But happiness is a choice” No. NO! Happiness
is not a choice. You can’t choose how to feel about something of this
magnitude. I can choose to put on a happy face. I can choose to flash a smile
and spit out “I’m doing great!” when I’m asked how I’m doing. But that doesn’t
change the fact that I feel nothing but devastation inside.
We are also told to not despair because if we aren’t to
experience every blessing the gospel offers in this life then, rest assured, we
will get to experience all of it in the next life. Based on how I currently
feel about being with a woman – which is deeply uncomfortable and filled with
anxiety in case you hadn’t gathered that already – the promise that I’ll be
able to be sealed to a woman in the next life really doesn’t instill a lot of hope
in me. To me that sounds awful. Yet everyone offers that tidbit up as the most
precious bit of wisdom they can possibly impart with the idea that it will
finally give me SOMETHING to hope for. Here’s a newsflash: it does the exact opposite.
Why would I look forward to something that makes me extremely anxious and
fearful and frankly filled with dread? Sure, its possible homosexuality is a
condition of the fallen state we live in and maybe in the afterlife I won’t be
attracted to men. Honestly we don’t know. If the Brethren know they haven’t
shared it with us. All they have said publicly is something along the lines of
“It will all be sorted out in the afterlife. But while you’re alive if you feel
like it’s right for you then you can get sealed to a woman but we’re not
advocating that anymore because it’s ruined a lot of lives.” Cool. Thanks for
the direction.
All I know is that I am here, in this life. Feeling what I
feel. Attracted to men emotionally, mentally and yes, obviously physically. And
it’s not something I chose. It’s not the consequence of something I did. It’s
not the consequence of something someone else did to me. Do you know the
current research or are you sticking to outdated and disproved reasons of why
someone ends up gay? The most current research suggests it’s an extremely
complex pathway involving numerous things including genetic predisposition, the
specific levels of a woman’s hormones at specific times during the pregnancy of
a child who ends up gay. And yeah, of
course part of it is environmental and life experience. Researchers are
confident that even more things go into it. Please do your research before you
tell me why you believe I am the way I am.
I’ve been told that homosexuality doesn’t define me. Sure,
I’ll buy that and I recognize that there is SO much more to me than my
sexuality. That being said, here’s what I feel about being gay: It’s not a
superficial or insignificant part of who I am. Since the day I realized I was
gay it has been the paradigm through which I have experienced the world. It has
informed every decision I’ve ever made and it has influenced every aspect of my
life. Aside from that of the gospel and my family, being gay has been the
biggest shaping influence that turned me into the man I have become. I feel
like it’s a deeply rooted and core part of who I am. Remember Elder Hollands
talk just a few weeks ago? He shared the story of a mother’s love to her gay
son. Remember what he said?
“And, I must say, this son’s sexual orientation did not
somehow miraculously change—no one assumed it would.”
It’s time to stop expecting our orientations to change.
Please. I beg you. When I’m told by anyone that they hold out hope that I’ll
end up loving and marrying a woman it kills me. All the shame comes flooding
back, all the anxiety comes back. The feelings that I have failed and that I am
a disappointment come crashing over me. It hurts. Please keep those thoughts to
yourself. I know this is a lot to ask. It might help you to mourn the life you
thought your loved one would lead. I sure mourned mine.
Yeah. The last few weeks have been hard. And the changes to
the churches policies on top of what I’m already going through are like a slap
in the face. To be labelled as an official apostate hurts. The policies about
children of gay parents put the final nail in the coffin that holds my dreams
of companionship and family and adopting/raising children in the church. I’m
hurting. I’m sad. I’m lonely. I can’t think about the future. I’m not ok and
it’s going to be a long LONG time before I become OK. Please be gentle with me.
Love me. Listen to me. Hurt with me. Walk with me. Let me walk with you without
feeling shame. I don’t want your advice. I don’t want you to fix this. You
can’t. Only God can fix this. And I have to hope that someday, somehow He will.
