Todd Anderson and Mr. Keating

The above names will be familiar to those of you who are admirers of the film, Dead Poets Society.  I recently watched this movie for the first time in a long time.  There are many things, many scenes in this film that appeal to me, that speak to me, that touch me. I would like to comment briefly on just one.

It is the scene where Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) is having the boys come up, one by one, to the front of the class to recite the poems they have written.  Todd Anderson, roommate of the film’s lead character, is deathly afraid of reading in public, which Mr. Keating knows.  Mr. Keating also knows that Todd is deathly afraid of expressing anything of himself, of letting anything out, of veering off for one split second from the path of conformity, duty and strict obedience that his parents and society have marked out before him.

It is for precisely these reasons that Mr. Keating – whose self-appointed mission is to inspire his students to be who they really are, instead of plastic automatons striving to fulfill the aspirations of their parents – insists that Todd come up to the front and recite his poem.  Todd reluctantly moves to the front of the class.  His pain and turmoil are obvious.  He cannot bring himself to recite. 

Sensing the task before him, Mr. Keating tells Todd to close his eyes and then starts spinning him around, peppering him with questions.  Like reeling in a huge fish, Mr. Keating goes after Todd’s soul:  urging, prompting, dragging it out, letting out the line, then reeling it back in again, always keeping the line taught. 

Finally, Todd practically explodes in a stream of poetic thoughts and emotions, revealing the depth and texture of the soul that lurks under his über-controlled surface. 

Suddenly, Mr. Keating stops turning.  Todd stops spinning. The silence in the classroom is palpable.  Everyone present is aware of what has just happened.  Then, suddenly, the class breaks into wild applause as Mr. Keating congratulates a smiling, scarcely-believing Todd who has been forever transformed by the experience.

Tears slid down my cheeks as I watched this scene (and numerous others in the movie).  I found myself thinking back on my life and what I am going through right now.  I found myself wishing that I had had a John Keating in my life as a youth, a “Captain, My Captain” who could have dragged the real me out past and through my false persona to breathe the air of authenticity, of life itself. 

Now ... I must be my own John Keating. 

For,

“I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”

(Invictus)

“What will your verse be?”

New Identity - Gay and ?: Recovering My Self

How does one go about recovering a sense of identity that was (i) hidden as a child because of child abuse, (ii) repressed further as an adolescent because of the discovery he is homosexual, (iii) largely (i.e., that which was left by this point) discarded and abandoned when he joined the church, and (iv) then further repressed and suppressed upon getting married?   

I feel this is the challenge before me.  Affirming my gay-ness is a huge step forward, and I am anxious to explore this new gay world that I never before had the courage to investigate. 

But closely connected to this “coming out of the closet” is an effort to reclaim all those bits of me that I have sensed are there, but are either lost to conscious knowledge or, because of shame and expedience, are so afraid to come out that I feel it will take a great deal of effort, affirmation and courage to reclaim them. 

This past week, I had an existential moment which clearly showed to me just how out of touch with my Self that I am.  Someone asked me to compile a list of my 10 favorite movies.  Simple, right?  However, as I started the process, I literally froze up as I realized that I had been in such pathological control of my false persona that I had not even allowed my real self to “like” anything (i.e., independent of the false persona’s needs).  Result:  not only was I not able to compile the list, but I was so overcome with fear and anxiety that I had to let go of this simple task, unable to complete it.

I can hear some of you out there saying I probably need a good therapist.  Who couldn’t use a good therapist?  But counseling costs money, and that is a commodity in short supply these days.  So, I resort to doing it on my own, with the help of, among other things, this blog and my online support community.

I have also turned to my sisters.  I still have not heard back from my older sister, and I am  prepared for the likelihood, because of her ghosts that haunt her from her own childhood, that she will not be willing to “go there,” even if it would help me.   

My younger sister, however, has proved to be immensely supportive.  As part of the effort to recover my identity, I have asked her to describe the young man I once was.  Her response somewhat surprised me but was – as hoped – revelatory.  I am sharing some of her thoughts as part of my effort to live “out loud”, to affirm the secret parts of me that feel either afraid or incapable of coming out of the closet with me.

I just read some parts of your blog and was so touched by the honesty behind the words and images that express who you are. 

I feel as if I am rediscovering you, yet at the same time as if I am getting reacquainted with a brother I had lost touch with years ago. You know, this person is the one I've always held in my heart: you whom you are revealing is not anyone new to me.

I've always known who you are: your delicate and refined elegance and passion, your profound intelligence and wisdom, your deep admiration and appreciation of beauty. 

This is the brother I have always loved. It is the one I feared losing all those years ago when you wrote me a letter, telling me you had joined the LDS church. I felt that I was going to lose you, but I never felt that I lost knowing who you truly were. You may have never known that deep sense of loss that I felt. I hope that this doesn't surprise or shock you.

After you joined the church, I felt as if I was watching you disappear, slowly ... with fragments of you disintegrating beyond my reach. You know the sensation of what you see in movies: when someone is falling and someone is reaching their hands to catch that person ... like off of a cliff and then the hands join, but the clutch weakens .... and the person above the great "vide" disappears. 

This is how I felt when I received your letter at school all those years ago.   I stood there shaking as I read your letter with tears running down my face ... it was if you had announced to me that you had died. I felt that I had lost you forever.  The letter was so serious and severe. You had gone from being so happy, smiling, understanding and LOVING to someone so cold, intolerant and always frowning ... At least that was what I perceived.

The memories I have of you from my childhood and youth are loving and fun ones:  walking with you in the snow with my hands in the muffler that you had bought for me. Looking up at you smiling and talking with me about I don't know what... but loving to be with you. I remember laughing, remember you smiling.

I remember riding in your chic car and singing, eating, talking and laughing.  Watching you laugh when I’d tell a joke.  Hanging out at your place when home from school, listening to music and dancing and you singing, or watching you read and just hanging out admiring your intelligence and zen-ness ... all so loving and peaceful

When I visited you in later years [i.e., after marriage and the arrival of children], I felt as if your life had been sucked out of you. You always looked unhappy. I remember saying something about this to my husband the last time we were there, which has now been some time.  

I felt that for someone supposedly so happy with church and family, you seemed so miserable.

In what had once been a joyous face full of laughter, I now saw Mom’s pout. Instead of the brother with whom I always was openly affectionate and loving, I now saw someone who couldn't sign letters or tell me that he loved me ... would simply give me a cold pat hug ... I was devastated. I hope you don't mind the sincerity in my words.

This is also healing for me because I honestly felt that you had died all those years ago when you joined the church.

So, this brother I am reconnecting with today, who loves his body and is accepting of affection, who doubts and questions, who expresses his love and feelings, who expresses his creativity with pictures and words ... who weaves in humor and jokes .... this is my brother I saw disappearing … The one I’ve always held in my heart.

I wasn't going to do a post today.  I know I need to slow down, and I'm going to.  I think starting today, I'll go every other day or so.  But I felt like I wanted to get this out there. 

Meanwhile, every day continues to be a journey.  I'm learning, feeling, growing ... And I'm working on that list of favorite movies.

  

Darkest Just Before Dawn

My salt-of-the-earth grandmother used to say that it’s always darkest just before dawn.

Yesterday morning, I was feeling like I was in a very dark place.  I reached out to my on-line friends, and they came through for me.  Thank you!  Your expressions of concern, support and love buoyed me, and served as the “updraft” I needed.

Beyond this, I had a wonderful discussion with my wife yesterday morning.  Things are much better now, and I think we have established a much more solid basis for moving forward. 

Dawn came and heralded a beautiful fall day.

Meanwhile, I had realized the day before that I had kind of botched my coming out to her, in that I didn’t lay the groundwork as I should have.  Instead, my coming out had just happened in the course of a wider discussion involving the church and our children.  I had seen an opportunity, and I had taken it.  Though she already knew bits and pieces of my “hidden history,” she had not been afforded the opportunity to learn my history before the big revelation.

I am now going to rectify that by providing her with a journal version of my “hidden history”, i.e., the history of gay identity and homosexual experiences from the time I was a child until our marriage. 

I think we also laid a good foundation for me to meet with MoHo’s in the future, in an environment of trust and understanding.  We also discussed watching together movies about the gay experience, starting with “Angels in America.” 

The future is again looking bright and promising.  There will without question be future challenges, disappointments and trials, but we are once again in a “good place” to move forward.

My Angel Sister

In addition to my on-line friends, I received fantastic support from my younger sister.  Following my initial coming out to her, I received a wonderfully supportive e-mail.  With her permission, I am going to share parts of it below, in the hope and belief that it may be of benefit to someone else.  Needless to say, I am very grateful to have her alongside me.

Fear is a form of slavery, and I think that what you are experiencing must feel like a liberation. I can't even imagine the pain associated with releasing this: allowing yourself to say no to shame and admit who you are while also admitting it to select others while living in culture and community that you find yourself in. I could imagine that you feel raw at times.

I admire the courage that you have found to come out about this, but most importantly, I find courageous that you are allowing yourself to truly be who you are, with all the pages included - an uncensored edition so to speak. So many people live their lives ignorant of this or simply in rebelling against things: you will not be one of these people! It has taken many years to finally come to terms with this; it will take time to gain a greater understanding of what all of this means to you now. 

I agree that you can allow yourself the time that you need to understand this: there is no rush and no timeline. You are the one making the rules here based on your transformation. As I think of this, I see the chrysalis of a butterfly: while inside the privacy of the silk cocoon, the caterpillar is transforming at a rate that only he can know and determine. Once his metamorphosis is complete, he decides when he will come out. So take this time to nurture yourself, gain your strength, write down your thoughts, explore your mind, body and heart ... there is nothing that is shameful in this life, especially Life itself in all of its intricate and unique forms, i.e., us: you, me, each individual and their differences!

I believe that we are given our bodies, hearts and minds to feel, discover and to LOVE. I believe that all opportunities that allow the unification of heart, mind and body enable us to experience love to its fullest because we are living/loving ourselves and life to the fullest at these moments: from reading a book to swimming, from enjoying food to making love. Pleasure and joy are wonderful gifts that we are so fortunate to enjoy.

Take pleasure and joy in who you are, your thoughts, your sensations, your moments shared in meditation, in expanding your mind, in loving your family and friends and appreciating others. I am certain that the fear will go away: a fist clenched in fear cannot open its hand to receive or hold... once you open your hand to accept love as your guiding force and to embrace and love you for who you are, you LET GO of fear.

I am always here for you.

I love you deeply: as a brother and as a dear friend.

You are a beautiful, intelligent and sensitive man,

and I can only wish for you to have a life

that allows you to see that

and to share this beauty, insight and wisdom with others.

Re-naissance d’un homme

(My re-birth as a man – in process)

Icarus: Did I Fly Too High?

These past two weeks since I started this blog have been a roller coaster, taking me to dizzying heights, then plunging me into deep despair.  Despite the very brave-sounding moniker of “Invictus,” I sometimes (more often than not) feel more like the cowering lion from the Wizard of Oz.   I agonize over whether I did the right thing in starting this blog, of giving voice to feelings and thoughts that have never seen the light of day.  Even though doing so has felt liberating, I worry that I have exposed too much of myself.

Despite what may appear to be self-confidence, I also agonize over whether I did the right thing in “coming out” to my wife.  The first discussion went well; subsequent ones, not so much.  A few days ago, I wrote about hubris and about the myth of Icarus, who flew too high to the sun with his wax wings and, as a result, plummeted to the earth.  I am afraid that I have flown too close to the sun and am falling, falling ...

I suppose such feelings may be natural when a gay, married, Mormon father throws off the mask that has concealed his true identity so effectively for so long from both others as well as himself and jumps off a cliff, precisely because he can no longer keep feelings he has struggled with his entire life bottled up inside of him; can no longer stand the feelings of deep shame and self-loathing that have haunted the inner chambers of his soul for as long as he can remember. 

I wouldn’t know if such feelings are natural; I’ve never “come out” before.  Before this month, the only person who ever knew anything of my attraction to men was my wife, and she did not understand the nature and extent of the attraction, what it has meant and does mean in the context of our marriage, nor what it has meant to me to cope with this my entire life. 

Now, well, a few more people know, and it’s scary.   Did I do the right thing?

While I sincerely appreciate the interest shown in my blog, I really need to ask a favor of those who have come here and are coming here.  Right now, I really, honestly, truly need some feedback, some insight, some support.  Please tell me what, if anything, that which I have written means to you.  Please give me the benefit of your own experience.  ‘Cause right now, I could really use an updraft ...

I take some paper on my hand,

And with a pencil draw a man:

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be …

But who am I?

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all …

But still the paper's in my hand

And every day I sketch that man …

My conscience says I should be him

I guess I could at least begin

But chances are I'd probably strike out.

Journal: Coming Out, Pilgrimages and Brothers

Coming out to my wife

This is late-breaking news.  I had already prepared everything in this post that follows, but this is just in:  Last night, I truly came out to my wife.  Life will never be the same again.

She has always known, since before we were married, that I was attracted to men.  She knew that BKP’s talk had deeply upset me.   Yet I had not shared with her the extent of the changes that this had wrought in me – until last night.  I hadn’t planned to.  It just flowed naturally out of a conversation that had started with discussing challenges we face in the church. 

Last night’s conversation was surprisingly candid, honest, real.  It was earth-shaking and ground-breaking.  I will have to write more about it later; it’s too fresh, too raw right now.  Suffice it for the present to say that I have now gone through the proverbial looking glass.  We discussed calmly, coolly, rationally, lovingly, the fact that I am gay.  I actually said the words, “I am gay, and I always have been.”  She accepted that.  Where we go from here will be something that we take on a day-to-day, week-to-week, month-to-month basis.

Revealing the Real Me to my Sisters

On Monday, I posted my “coming out” letter to my older sister.  That same day, I e-mailed a different version of the same letter to my younger sister.  She called Monday afternoon and we had a good talk.  She was very supportive, as I would have expected.  She is technically LDS, but has not been active in the church for a very long time.

In sending these letters to my sisters (both of whom live on the other side of the continent and, primarily because of the geographical distances, have not even seen my family for a number of years), my objective was to reveal to them the real me – to take off the mask that I have been wearing practically my entire life. 

Coming out to myself has been about embracing and affirming who I really am, then seeking to discover things about myself that have been smothered and hidden for most of my life.  It’s about who I am as a human being – my identity.  And in writing these letters to my sisters, my primary objective was to reveal that identity – something that is uniquely my own.  For this reason, I chose not to tell my wife that I was doing this.  I will tell her when I feel the time is right.  But for now, this is between me and my sisters.

Getting back to my telephone conversation on Monday afternoon, it was so weird to openly refer to myself as “gay.”  (Note the change at the top of my blog’s homepage?)  It was as if someone was talking through my mouth.  I (i.e., the old me) would NEVER say such a thing out loud.  But the new me could and did.  And you know what?  It got easier as the conversation progressed.  While talking to her, I had the oddest sensation that I was literally stepping out of the “costume” I have worn my whole life and that she (and me) were seeing myself for the first time.  It was revelatory, it was affirming, it was liberating.  Now, there is one more person on this planet, very close to me, who knows the real me.

Yesterday, I received a wonderful e-mail from this sister.  She wrote many beautiful things which I’ll probably share later, because I think what she wrote could be of worth to other men like me, but for now, I’d like to share this

“I agree that you can allow yourself the time that you need to understand this: there is no rush and no timeline. You are the one making the rules here based on your transformation. As I think of this, I see the chrysalis of a butterfly: while inside the privacy of the silk cocoon, the caterpillar is transforming at a rate that only he can know and determine. Once his metamorphosis is complete, he decides when he will come out. So take this time to nurture yourself, gain your strength, write down your thoughts, explore your mind, body and heart ...”

Hubris, Icarus and Pilgrimages

I have had occasion in recent days to contemplate anew the on-line name that I have chosen for myself and what it represents.

In one of my original posts, I wrote about the meaning of the word “invictus” as well as the poem by Henley that takes this word for its title.  The term, which means “unconquerable,” inspired me to start this journey, and the concept behind the term has strengthened me as I have taken my first haltering steps out of the closet.

However, I’ve been troubled that there seems more than a touch of hubris in some of my posts.  I am reminded of the Greek myth of Icarus, who tried to escape from Crete with a pair of wings made by his father, Daedalus, out of wax and feathers. 

Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, which would melt the wax.  But overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared too close to the sun, which melted the wax, causing Icarus to plunge into the sea (thus giving the name to the Icarian Sea).

I have felt giddy moments these past days, but I have been reminded that I mustn’t fly too close to the sun, or I’ll crash.  (Read:  among other things, gay adolescence must be kept in check.)

There have been more than a few moments that I have instead felt very much the humble pilgrim as I have journeyed into what was foreign land only a very short time ago.  A medieval pilgrim was one who embarked on a quest for something conceived as sacred.  In doing so, a pilgrim had to make the pilgrimage himself in order to reap the spiritual benefits that would be the fruits of his journey; there were no “pilgrim-by-proxy” programs.

As he made the trip, which would be long and sometimes arduous through lands he did not know, the pilgrim would need hospitality – places along the route where he could seek shelter and sustenance.  In these places of refuge, he would talk to other pilgrims, learning about places they had visited and valuable information about the journey ahead.

I have been a pilgrim this past while, seeking that which is sacred:  my true identity.  Like pilgrims of old, no one else can make this journey for me; I must do it myself.  And  like the pilgrims of old, I have been sustained, fed, nurtured and taught by others who have preceded me on the journey.  I am so grateful for all those who have reached out to me since going public with my blog.  You know who you are, and I just want to say, Thank You. 

Brothers

This past while, I have also had an opportunity to read more blogs out there and to learn just how many pilgrims there are and what marvelous insights and information these persons are sharing for others like me.  I have read posts that have moved me to tears, such as Moving Horizon’s experience in the temple, described here.  I have read posts that have triggered emotions deep within me, such as the experience Beck had, also in the temple, described here. 

I have read other posts that have made me laugh, such as this one, and others have made me cry, such as this one and this one. 

I have also read things – many things - that have made me say to myself, that’s exactly how I feel.  One that I would like to focus on is something that Chris wrote here soon after he started his blog:  “I really want to thank all of you out there that have let me silently stalk your blogs. You have given me a lot of insight and understanding into my own journey and you are loved as much as I can love someone that I know only through the words of your online journals.”

I would like to take Chris’ words and use them as my own:  As much as I can love people that I know only through their online words and the caring and humanity that is expressed in those words, I love you.  I love you for what you have done for me and how you have made me feel inside.  

Lastly, I want to thanks those who have offered me something I have not tasted for most of my adult life – genuine male friendship that is caring, compassionate and – yes – loving. Words simply fail me as I try to describe what this means to me.

The Letter: Coming Out to my Sister

Below is a slightly edited text of a letter I sent to my sister late last week.  She's the first family member I'm coming out to.

Dear Sis,

I hope you received my last letter.  I am writing this letter with some trepidation.  I wanted you to understand more about your brother and part of the reasons why I have persisted in asking you about childhood memories.  Please keep this letter confidential.  You will understand why I make this request as you read it.

I have known at least since I went through puberty that I am attracted to men.  I guess that means I’m gay.  I suppressed these feelings all through my junior high and high school years, then on into my college years and beyond.  I was deathly afraid of doing or saying anything that might divulge or expose my true identity.  I walked the walk and talked the talk.  However, privately, I knew that I was most definitely attracted to men, not women.

When I found the Church, I thought I had found a means by which to finally conquer the demons that had tormented me for years – at least that’s how I felt and thought about it.  To me, the Gospel offered a path, and all I had to do was get on and continue on that path.  I had a testimony that the Church was true.  I saw the fruits of the Gospel in the lives of members and their families.  I sincerely believed at that point in time that same-sex attraction (SSA) was something that could be overcome, sort of like alcoholism.  I applied myself diligently to scripture study, prayer and service, and I really believed that my faith was being rewarded:  I was changing.

Things went well at the MTC and in the first 4-5 months in France.  But then circumstances put me in the path of two older male members of the Church, each of whom – independent of each other – could “see right through me.”  It was never discussed openly, yet comments were made, and I knew they knew about me because – again, though nothing was ever said openly – I knew they, too, were gay.

Meanwhile, temptations were everywhere. I never sought these out.  The city was full of beautiful men, some of whom were members of the Church, some of whom were in our English class, and many of whom we encountered on a daily basis while doing missionary work.  There was never a physical temptation, but a lot of things were happening that were pushing me – for the first time in my life – to seriously consider life as a gay man.

Let me at this point back up a bit and say that President Packer’s comments in General Conference a few weeks ago triggered something in me that has propelled me to, among other things, write you this letter. 

I knew that President Packer was wrong in what he said.  Not only were his remarks out of line with the Church’s official position on homosexuality, but I had my own independent witness that same-gender attraction, in and of itself, is not a sin, is not immoral or impure, or whatever else President Packer called it.  I knew this because of an experience I had during my last days in Paris, after I had been struggling with identity issues for weeks.  I’d like to quote from something I have recently written to describe that experience:

“It was after struggling with these thoughts and emotions that swirled around me for a number of weeks that I had a dream that was unlike any dream I have ever had, then or since.  It was so palpable, so real, so revelatory.  Without going into all the details, I dreamt that I saw a person in a large room filled with people dressed in white.  His presence seemed to tower over the others.  As I made my way to the front of the room, my eyes became locked with His and He beckoned me to come to Him, to take His hand and embrace Him.  As soon as I did so, we were transported, just the two of us, to another place, where we sat and talked about my fears and joys, the deepest corners of my soul – and my ultimate secret.  My gaze never left His countenance, and in His beautiful eyes, I saw love such as I had never before felt.  In those eyes, I saw no judgment, no guile; only perfect, total understanding.  His very countenance radiated such intense purity that I felt as if I would faint from bathing in such exquisite peace and love.  In this setting, enveloped in love and light and truth, He told me that it was ok – my “attraction” – and that He loved me just the way I was.  And that was the message I woke up with.

Although I have shared bits of this dream with others, I had never confided the core of the experience – not even to my journal – that the Lord loved me for who I AM.  [my wife knew about the dream, and she now knows about the core message of the dream, because I have told her.] Shortly after this experience, I was transferred, and I continued to struggle, to one degree or another, for the rest of my mission, then beyond.  I ultimately made the decision to embrace marriage and family and have not regretted that choice ~ but the struggle continued in the quiet chambers of my inner soul, behind the façade, encased in the false persona.

Which brings me back to President Packer’s talk.  I rejected what he said because it was so contrary to this experience I had had on my mission.  Acting on an attraction may be one thing; but I knew that being the way I was and am is ok with the Lord.  As I have contemplated many things these past few weeks, the thought has occurred to me:  Have you ever stopped to think that one of the most sublime spiritual experiences you have ever had centered on your attraction to men? What should this tell me?”  

           

During the remainder of my mission, I continued to wrestle with which path to choose following my mission:  marriage, or a path that would likely lead, eventually, to an openly gay lifestyle.  Though the pressure I had been feeling had subsided, I had other experiences which showed me that joining the Church, followed by much prayer and fasting, had not changed my basic sexual orientation one iota.  I was still VERY much attracted to men.  What it did do, however, was give me even more reason to try to suppress my orientation.

You know what happened after I came home.  I eventually made my choice:  to get married.  But before doing so, I told [my wife] about my SSA.  I told her some of the experiences I had had, including about the boy I was more or less in love with while in my senior year of high school.  I felt I owed it to her, as well as to me.

Since marriage, I have been faithful to [my wife].  I have walked the walk and talked the talk.  I love her.  I love my children.  I love my family.  But, I am who I am inside.  I have no intention of acting on this or of leaving my family.  However, I am no longer willing or even able to repress all of this.  It is a fundamental part of who I am as a person.  I am sick of feeling guilty about, feeling dirty about it, feeling “impure and unnatural,” in President Packer’s words.  His statement (which was subsequently revised before being put out in print) was as follows:  “Some suppose that they were preset and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn tendencies toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Remember, He is our Heavenly Father.”

Those words cut through my heart, as they did countless other Mormon men and women who are struggling – faithfully, painfully, totally alone for the most part – in the hidden chambers of their innermost soul.  But, President Packer didn’t stop there.  Not only did he call me “impure and unnatural,” he poured salt in the open wounds by saying, in so many words, that God would never make such a depraved person as me, and that God didn’t love me for who I am – that even before GOD, I could not be my true self because my true self was not acceptable.

The experience of hearing President Packer’s words, following upon other growth experiences in my life during the past months that have nothing to do with SSA, per se, caused a tectonic shift somewhere deep down inside of me:  I was NOT going to crawl back in my hole!  I was going to affirm who I am: a MAN - who is Mormon - and married - by choice, but who is SSA by birth. 

Further, I determined that I was going to continue the process that had already begun of trying to understand what happened to me as a child – NOT to relive all that crap, all the pain, all the sadness.  But I was and AM looking for THE PERSON I TRULY AM!  Not some false persona, not some cardboard cutout, not someone who is simply going through the motions in life, but someone who is ALIVE to who he is and embraces and affirms it.  In short, I want to LOVE MYSELF after a lifetime of DESPISING myself.  (You can’t hear me, but I am SHOUTING these words inside me.)

[My wife] and I have talked a bit about this.  She had a revelatory experience a couple of weeks ago, that I described as follows:

The past couple of years had been a difficult period in our marriage for reasons having nothing to do with my same-sex attraction.  It’s complicated, and I will probably write about it in future entries, but let me simply say now that a lot of our problems had their roots in abuse I suffered as a child and the dysfunctional family situation in which I grew up.  A few months ago, however, we experienced what we both termed a miracle in our relationship.  I won’t elaborate except to say that we came through these challenges with a different, and what we viewed as a more healthy, outlook on life (including our sex life): we were a lot more open, a lot less “churchy,” and a lot more willing to look and live “outside the box” of conventional orthodox Mormonism (again, a subject for another post).

It was in this environment that we headed into General Conference weekend – the one with the BKP talk.  In the ensuing days, I followed with intense interest the articles in the local newspaper and postings on various blogs like By Common Consent. 

[My wife] didn’t say much about the matter until after the big demonstration around Temple Square.  To her, the protest seemed to be directed against Elder Packer’s comments about gay marriage, and she couldn’t understand why gays couldn’t just respect the Church’s position on this. 

I remember standing in the kitchen talking with her about it one evening.  I said that I thought that it went beyond this; that what people had found so hurtful were BKP’s comments about the orientation itself being unnatural and evil.  Suddenly, she set down the pot she had been holding and looked at me.  The look on her face was one of sudden insight and compassion.  I wish I could remember her exact words to me at that point, but there were something like this:  “Is this painful for you, because of your attraction to men?” 

It was like a log jam burst inside of me.  I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her and proceeded to cry like a baby.  “Yes,” I replied through tears.  “I am tired of feeling ashamed and dirty and useless because of this.  I didn’t choose this!  And President Packer was wrong!  His words did not echo the Church’s position.  But beyond all that, I have decided that I am accepting this about myself and not going to beat myself over the head about it anymore.”  “But,” I added, “I want you to know that I have made my choice, and I chose you.”

So, she knows that I “have” SSA, and that, by the way, I will have it until my dying day (and beyond?).  It’s an integral part of who I am.  It’s not alcoholism, for example, or even a propensity to alcoholism (a comparison that some members of the Church have made and are want to make).  Sexual identity goes to the very core of a person, and though one may choose not to make that sexual identity their lifestyle, it does not change the fact that it’s there.

Before I go on, I should probably address something that is no doubt in your mind.  You’re probably saying, “But you have children!  You obviously have sex with your wife.  Doesn’t that make you at the very least bisexual and not gay?” 

I guess my response to that on one level is, does it make a difference?  The fact of the matter is that I am still attracted to men, even if I don’t act on those attractions.  And that is the part of my identity that I am trying to recover, embrace and affirm.  On another level, I would say that, yes, I have had and do have intimate relations with my wife, and a large part of the fulfillment and enjoyment I take from that union derives from the fact that she is my wife:  She is someone I care very deeply about, someone with whom I have shared a very large part of my life, and sexual intimacy follows as a part of that union.

This being said, I would never seek out a sexual liaison with another woman, and I frankly barely even notice women – and, believe me, this is not due to the fact that I am some super-righteous “Peter Priesthood” Mormon. 

It is due to the fact that I am attracted to men, not to women.  [My wife] tells me fairly regularly that I don’t notice women giving me the eye in the grocery store or somewhere else out in public.  And she’s right:  I’m not looking for it, so I don’t notice it.  But I also have never believed that women are attracted to me, and I have found it difficult to believe when [my wife] has said to me, “Did you see that?”  This obviously goes to self-image and a sense of self worth, and the basic fact of the matter is that I have had a low self-esteem and self-worth throughout my life, in large part because at my very core there has been this swirling, hissing, lashing, sadomasochistic mass of self-loathing because of my SSA.

On the flip side of the “checking things out coin”, I have had to restrain myself for many years from looking at men I see out in public, particularly when I’m with [my wife], mainly because I haven’t wanted to hurt her or minimize her in any way.  When I’m not with her, I’ve also had to be very careful because of my long-standing and deep-seated fear of “being discovered.”  At the very least, I would now like to give myself – without being racked with guilt and self-loathing – that little bit of pleasure and freedom of being able to discretely notice and look appreciatively at another man – not lustfully or lasciviously, but simply admiringly – just like many if not most Mormon men see no problem in appreciating the beauty or sensuality of a woman they see or encounter.

So, that’s pretty much it:  I have decided to “out” myself to you.  You, apart from [my wife], are the only person who knows [me and knows] this about me.  And you now know more of the details than even [my wife] knows.  I have not told her that I am writing to you.  To me, this is my business, and I must again ask you to keep the contents of this letter to yourself.  I will probably come out to [my other sister] in the near future, but I want to do so when I feel the time is right.  The main reason I have come to the decision to out myself to you two is because I have had relationships with you in the past that I value, and I want you to know the authentic me.  I wanted to do this for myself.  I also have no plans to tell my children about this – at least not now and not for the foreseeable future ...

The bottom line is that I know I was born with SSA.  It is an integral part of who I am, and to better understand this as well as the rest of me, I need to better understand what happened to me as a child.  And to do this, I need your help with memories and impressions.  I also need you to tell me about the me that you knew when we were children and what, in your eyes, happened to him. 

I hope you will choose to help me on this journey.  I would like your help, but I can move forward without it.