Monday, January 30, 2012

It's Just That its Delicate

I've heard the story over and over.  You were being set apart to be in Boy Scouts at church.  You were told if you were faithful then you would be given a son.  After six girls, I was born.  No one at home believed that I was a boy.  Mom had given up on having a boy and she had all the old girls clothes ready for me.

I imagine that you were so happy that you finally got what you wanted.  I was a gift from God, an answer to your prayers.  I don't know what its like to have a child or to wait for a son after so many girls.  My imagination leads me to believe that it might have been one of your favorite moments.  My presence meant that God was pleased with your service.  That he wanted you to have me, he trusted you.

So when did I become not good enough.  What is it about me that made you so angry?  What could I have done differently?  Was I too sensitive?  Not boy enough for you? I honestly tried to make you proud.  I worked hard to do things that would please you.

I knew you loved the church and very dedicated to it.  I dedicated myself to the church in spite of the pain it caused me.  I choose serving you as opposed to following what ever inclination I had.  I've tried to reach out to you time and time again.  I am left hurt.

Tommy came along and his existence seemed to be enough for you.  You choose him over me many times over.  Now Tommy is married, has a child.  He is fulfilling your dreams for your family.  I see how proud you are of him.  I listen to the non verbal words you express when you speak of him.  I see your eyes light up when you talk about your daughter in law.  I can imagine what it'll be like when you come for my graduation and interact with Zach.

Tommy is the one you expected when God promised you a son. I know when you envisioned your future son that he would at the very least be straight.  I tried to be.  I wish I could.  Maybe then when you speak of me your eyes would light up.  I could give you a daughter in law and grandchildren.  I have failed.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sometimes Scars are Tracks

Tonight I'm thinking about a time when I took an ambulance ride to the hospital for a suicide attempt.  While we were riding to the hospital and one of the EMTs was yelling at me.  This man was yelling at me for attempting to take my life while his wife was fighting for hers.  His wife had cancer and was afraid she wouldn't make it.

Immediately guilt came over me.  I felt so bad for his wife.  She had a husband who obviously cared for her, probably some children.  I think he mentioned children but I don't remember everything that night.  Any way, I remember thinking I wish that I could give her my life, as if time on earth was a tangible commodity.  I wanted to explain myself to him, but just didn't have the energy.  I felt like shit.  I hated myself and didn't have the energy to fight with this EMT.

This man didn't understand the pain I was going through.  He just added to it.  I hated myself and wanted it over.  This EMT just added to my pain.  I wish I could have some words with this man.  I want to know what the hell he was thinking.  Why did he feel it was necessary to talk to me that way while in such a vulnerable state?  I still feel like shit because of the things this man said.  I hope that this was a some sort of tactic to see what state I was in, like when my first psychiatrist attacked my mother.

If by some one in a million chance this EMT reads this and know that it was him.  Thanks for adding to the mountain of guilt in my life.  I appreciate it really in the most sarcastic way possible.  I still feel large amounts of guilt.  Even though no matter what I would have done I wouldn't have been able to take your wife's cancer away.  In my twisted fucked up mind I feel like if I kill myself, I also kill your wife.  I didn't have enough reasons to feel like I was worthless.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Just a Sad Song With Nothing to Say

Whats going on in my life, nothing and everything at the same time.  While that is contradictory nothing is going on because I don't really do anything, but in my frontal lobe everything is happening. I was initially feeling a lot better after graduating and being done with the tyranny of BYU.  Not having a job is not helpful to my emotional wellbeing.  

I'll start with the nothing.  I don't have a job, I don't have school, and I don't have a social life.  I am searching for a job and admittedly not hard enough.  My insecurities and fear are feeding the anxiety.  So I watch dumb stuff online and go to the gym.  My social life... huff.  Well I can only be mad at my self for being so fucking shy! I could blame it on the fact that my social life always revolved around school and church and now I don't have that.  However, I still have USGA and when I go I freeze up and want to be left into a corner and just listen.  I barely made it last night.  There are people who have reached out and tried to get me to break out my shell.  They invite me to do things, talk to me, engage me at a party when I'm completely silent.  I tried but for whatever reason I can't seem to relax.  So here's my apology to them.  Out of privacy I will re-frian from using your names, but sorry I'm borring as hell.  Maybe one day when I gain a little more confidence I can be fun again.  You guys are great.  I understand know wants to be around the boring, sad man.  

As for everything, I got into a little bit.  I hate myself, I don't understand how people get past the guilt and the shame.  I hear stories over and over again about people who say the just let it go.  DAMN IT! How they hell did you do that? I want to so bad. I look at other gay guys and they look good.  They have these nice bodies, great smiles, etc.  I know I look great for where I have been, but I am flabby.  I'm probably being too superficial, but I am attracted to a guy who is muscular.  I love big biceps, I love abs, I love good chest.  So I need to be the person I want to date.  But I can't seem to control this binging.  I just want to eat and eat all the time.  I need to get back to meeting with a therapist, maybe group again, and I need to take social risks.  To my past therapist who might be reading this you are just going to get over my language of "I need, " but to please you enjoy the next dialogue. 

It would be nice to be able to go to USGA and be sociable. I would prefer to go to a party and be good company.  I can't do any more of this non definitive language. 

So to conclude on a positive note.  Today I hope to get to some things accomplished.  I would like to call those numbers I was given to ensure that I can continue on the Wellbutrin and get a new counselor.  I hope to get a good work out in.  Get my marker board make a plan and pound that pavement in search of a job.  If any of you feel the need to text this lonely sad sack, feel free.  I'm probably at the gym or catching up on last night comedy line up.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Sunday, January 15, 2012

She's Gonna Set Me Free

The old "would you take the straight pill?' question came up tonight.  Of course a person's answered as you'd expect... "no."  The reasons were also the same cliches I've heard before (not that they weren't genuine).  If I was to answer I would say "hell yes!"  Why wouldn't I?  There are so many complications and struggles in life to force growth.  Why make life more complicated than it is.  If I was going through dialysis because my kidneys weren't functioning, I'd want to simplify my life with a new kidney.  I can still live by having an external machine perform as a kidney, but if there was an option to make my life easier I'd take it.

Think of all the complications that would absolve due to becoming straight.  For me that would be one less thing for me to feel guilty about.  One less thing that would disappoint my parents and other loved ones.  One less thing for my Dad to hate for.  I could marry a woman honestly and make my father proud by giving him another daughter in law.  I could have children in the traditional way.  I have a million things to feel guilty for, so many other ways I've disappointed my parents.  So yes, I'd swallow that pill.  The guilt or better defined the toxic shame being alleviated is enough.  

Many talk of how they have rid themselves of the guilt for disappointing their parents or anyone due to their sexuality.  The process is never really defined.  It appears that its a magical event that happens unexpectedly and seemingly by chance.  I can't believe that, I just don't have the patients to wait for an unexpected exoneration of the guilt.  There must be a process to which I can find worth in my existence. 

I have been working hard to rid my self of the burden of self hatred.  I was unsuccessful at harnessing the shame to a managing level while at BYU.  Now I have to start over with a new therapist. I will have to give the background.  I will need to test the reliability of this new therapist. I don't want to do that agian, but my situation is deteriorating.  I have too much time on my hands and consequently my mind wonders about life.  My mind wondering rarely ends in positive emotion.  

I am tired of guilt, pain, and loneliness.  I'm tired not feeling worth of another's kindness.  I'm tired of praying to ask God to kill me.  I hate that many times when I begin my personal prayer during the administration of the sacrament, I am begging God to end my pitiful existence.  I am tired of working hard to be at least marginally worth of the love of others.  I am replaceable and probably should be.  

Saturday, January 7, 2012

I got to get me outta here

I should have written this hours after the fact, but too bad.  Its over.  If you look at the description you can see that I made some minor, but significant changes.  I am no longer a student of BYU.  It's about damn time.
Reflecting on my experience I can divide my BYU experience in 3 distinct segments.  The first being my freshman year.  It was a time where I learned how to live on my own.  I had a rude awakening, as most freshman do.  We all were the smart ones, but now the smart ones are competing for that title.  Then post mission, those were the good times.  I was still very deep in the closet and successfully keeping my self hatred at bay. Then there was the depression segment.  This obviously was the worst.  I was on a journey of self discovery.  I had never allowed my self to truly feel the trauma I had experienced growing up.  Most importantly I finally stopped lying to myself and quit dating girls.
I love BYU, but I also hate it.  I gained some of the best friends I have ever had.  I had many new experiences.  It's like we are told in the scriptures, that since there is good there must be evil.  I certainly had "evil" times.  When I say evil I mean bad.
Its over and its scary, but I need to move on.