Even though I am now completely out in my life, and although most people who frequent this blog know who I am, I have to admit that I have maintained a certain level of anonymity for posts like this one. It is very difficult at times, and sometimes unwise, to discuss extremely personal, powerful spiritual experiences – but doing so anonymously seems a bit more practical.
When I was 14 and praying about why I should remain a member of the church, I remember having a very vivid dream. This dream is just as vivid to me today as it was the day after I had it. In it, I was show certain possibilities – things I think I needed to see at that point in time. When I woke, the feeling I had was intensely spiritual. In fact, I had never had similar feelings in my entire life… until a few nights ago.
The details of that first dream are now slightly irrelevant to this conversation, and were so personal that I won’t innumerate them here, but I do need to say that although this dream was inspiring and powerful, I now know it to mean something completely different than what I thought it did originally.
But this most recent dream… it is significant, and very applicable.
I dreamt I was at a mission reunion. Two of my very mission friends know about me and my partner Adam (in real life). They were there in this dream, as well as the hundreds of other missionaries I had the chance to serve with, to welcome into the mission field as an office missionary, and even the ones I didn’t know, but recognized their faces. The mission reunion was interesting in my dream, and although I felt at peace there, I was not comfortable.
At first I blamed this on the fact that I knew I was gay, and here I was, at a mission reunion. I thought my discomfort was because I was a sinner in the eyes of all these people – but it soon became apparent that my discomfort stemmed from something else.
I walked up to a sister companionship who were talking by themselves, only to hear them talking about me as I approached. I couldn’t hear everything, but I distinctly remember hearing the word “gay” in their conversation.
I froze, and wondered how they knew.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by all these good members of the church. They had fear and loathing in their eyes. The two friends of mine stood a little ways back, with compassion. It almost appeared like they were begging for forgiveness. Suddenly I realized that they had spilled the beans, and that everyone at this reunion knew I was gay.
On cue, one of the most flamboyant Elders in my mission field yelled “Is it true you are gay?” right in front of everyone. At first I was mortified, but then suddenly found myself in a teaching situation. I had the opportunity to explain what it meant to be gay.
Then my dream skipped, as they often do. I found myself on a barren street (one I recognized… it is the street that led to my house). No one was out, and the streets were empty. I set off home, pondering the events that took place during my “mission reunion.”
I was asking myself questions I have asked myself in life many times. “Why me?” “Why am I gay?” “Why do I constantly have to explain myself and clear up misunderstandings and misconceptions?”
In my dream I prayed, and asked God these same questions.
I admit I was surprised when a booming voice answered. Strangely, although the voice was loud and overpowering, it was also recognizable and calming. “Because I want it that way,” it said.
And then I woke up.
I must admit that I have drifted from the church over the past few years. I’ve allowed myself to make excuses to not go, and specifically have avoided places where I knew I would feel the spirit, because I was afraid of feeling guilty.
But the moment my eyes fluttered opened I felt that same, intense, overwhelming, screaming spirit I had only felt once before – when I was 14.
I don’t know why I have to go down the path I am going down. I don’t know, exactly, what it was about the experience of excommunication that I’m sure God wanted me to discover and learn from. But I do have one more piece of the puzzle. I know, beyond any doubt, that I have a job to do – even as an excommunicated Latter-Day Saint.
I am to tell my story, to teach, to explain, and to clear up misunderstandings and misconceptions.
The desire I have had to go to church, partly to just “stick it to the people” who would not want me there is not borne out of hostility. My Father wants it that way.
It was good to feel the spirit again and know that I am on the right track. It is good to know that somehow, my mission in life – whether changed from that vision of long ago or not – is somehow still being fulfilled. It is good to know that I am still capable of being a tool in the Lord’s hand.
I think I need to make a better effort to go to church… because somehow, somewhere, it is going to lead to a teaching experience. And a learning one too, I’m sure.
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The List
One of the many questions I often asked myself, and later asked to others, was “What can I do to overcome my same-gender attraction?” I was given various answers from multiple sources, but tried literally everything someone thought would help. I have compiled a quick list of everything I tried, in hopes that, perhaps, it can be of help to someone else, as well as show you exactly how much I did to try to overcome this part of my nature. I would like to elaborate on each of these list items, so forgive me if this post runs a bit long:
1. Prayer
2. Fasting
3. Church attendance
4. Scripture study
5. Seminary/Institute
6. Temple attendance
7. Mission service
8. Group and Individual therapy
9. Weekly meetings with bishops / Blessings
10. Church activities
11. Sports
12. Enlarging my circle of male friends
13. Reading church sponsored materials
14. Dating
1. Prayer. My Father in Heaven and I still have a great relationship – and this relationship was built on prayer. I’m sure you’ve heard of other gay young men who have claimed that prayer has been a staple in their life, and I am no different. I depended so much on prayer, that I don’t think there was a single day that went by without my offering at least four prayers a day related specifically to this issue. I’ve had prayers that have lasted hours, I’ve had prayers that lasted seconds. I’ve had tears during prayers in private, and even tears during prayers in public. Perhaps, most significantly, were the prayers I said before going to bed. My mom once caught me getting into bed without kneeling, and she asked me if I had forgotten to say my prayers. I made up some excuse about how I had said my nightly prayer earlier when she didn’t see, but the fact was, I prayed from the moment my light went out until I fell asleep every night, in hopes of keeping my thoughts clean and avoiding any dreams that might end up erotic. I don’t know how long these prayers lasted on average, but often they went well into the night.
2. Fasting. I was taught that fasting on fast Sunday was really the only time someone needed to fast, and that fasting any extra was superfluous. I was taught fasting on fast Sunday was enough to show God that you were willing and ready to do his will. I started fasting half-day when I was eight, and moved to a full fast when I was sixteen. I started fasting for the issue of same-gender attraction every month when I was twelve. I never missed a month, and often added extra fasts "just in case." Even when family outings, or holidays, or something else interfered, I made up the fast the week before, in hopes of showing the Lord just how hopeful I was, and how willing I was to put Him first.
3. Church attendance. I was never one to dislike going to church. I loved every meeting, and often went to more than one church session. For a while I was a member of a Spanish speaking branch, so I would attend those meetings, a branch missionary meeting, and then attend my home ward meetings all in the same day. Even after “coming out,” church attendance has been something I enjoy doing. I can’t remember ever skipping a meeting growing up, unless I was sick. My family even made it a point to find the local church on vacations.
4. Scripture study. I love the scriptures, especially the Bible and the Doctrine & Covenants. The Book of Mormon has never been a favorite of mine, but I made sure to read it every day anyway, and always rose to a scripture reading challenge, whether issued in a class, or by the church. I’m excited to share some of the things I have learned in regards to the scriptures on this blog. On average, my scripture study started around a half hour a day, but as I found temptation more difficult to resist, that time increased to at least an hour.
5. Seminary/Institute. Most high school kids I knew would occasionally cut class when it came to seminary, without any guilt or remorse. After all, we lived in Utah, and seminary was “release time” from a regularly scheduled school day. The school didn’t really care what you did with that time. I never missed a day. Institute was the same way. I always did my assignments, participated heavily in any and all activities (yup, even early morning devotionals), and never got anything less than an A. This was the one class where I felt it was inappropriate to get anything less… after all, how could I justify a B in "“God 101."
6. Temple attendance. When I turned 12 and went to the temple my first time, I loved it so much I made it a point to go at least monthly. This schedule became harder as I grew up and had less and less time, but when I was told that temple attendance might be the key to overcoming SGA, I increased my frequency. Once endowed, I frequented as often as possible, which often meant going more than once a month. If I felt particularly unworthy, I would go anyway and sit on the grounds until I did feel worthy, or would return another time that month.
7. Mission service. I made a promise to God that if He would do two things for me, I would serve an honorable mission for Him with all my might, heart, and strength. First, I wanted my inappropriate desires to go away. Second, I wanted to learn a foreign language. I repented for the second requirement my first day in the MTC. The wording of my release letter informed my priesthood leaders at home that I served a “… very honorable mission.” They were impressed by the addition of the word “very,” as was I.
8. Group and Individual therapy. I have a whole other blog on this subject.
9. Weekly meetings with a bishop. After I started therapy, I decided I needed the help and support of everyone who wouldn’t look down on me. I started meeting weekly with my bishop, and at his request started attending a singles ward, where I met with that bishop weekly, and my home ward bishop monthly. I used these meetings to bounce ideas, report on my progress, discuss my frustration, get priesthood blessings, and get encouragement. I found these two bishops to be especially supportive of me. I still meet with that home ward bishop on an every-other-month basis.
10. Church activities. During the years when I was in college and working full time, I found it difficult to arrange my schedule in such a way that I was able to participate in church activities during the week. At the insistence of my counselor, as well as my bishop, I made such arrangements. I also participated in my own “activities” during church – such as learning the names of every member of the elder’s quorum, and ensuring that I went anywhere I was invited to go with my fellow peers.
11. Sports. Yup, I even started learning new sports. I started figure skating (I know, not exactly a "straight" sport, but it gave me an outlet where I could set and achieve goals), learned to play golf (however awfully), attended super bowl parties, learned to play ultimate Frisbee, volleyball, and tennis, and specifically integrated myself into any sports related activities at church… except basketball… I never liked basketball. I gave myself this one exception.
12. Enlarging my circle of male friends. When I got home from my mission I really only had two good close male friends. It was suggested that building healthy relationships with other men would be advantageous, in hopes of settling the need I had for male companionship with friendship. I reconnected with two mission companions, and, as mentioned earlier, learned the names of the elders in my quorum (which, subsequently, earned me a spot as the quorum’s first counselor), and started to integrate myself into new circles of friends. I consider my success in this aspect to be rather high.
13. Reading church sponsored materials. Yes, this includes the Ensign and the Liahona (the Spanish version), but it also includes Evergreen books, the church’s 12 step addiction recovery program (in hopes that I would find something useful), Ty Mansfield’s book (with Stuart’s section ripped out by my mom. She didn’t want me to read anything that could be interpreted as “failure”), my counselor's book (which is fantastic), and many others. I reread the entire missionary library during this time as well, and had my bishop order in all of the materials written specifically to church leadership in regards to same-gender attraction.
14. Dating. When I got back from my mission I was practically engaged to a girl who had waited for me. When that didn’t work out I took some time to be single, and then continued along the dating path, with the encouragement of my parents, church leaders, and counselor. My church leaders always would ask, “Do you think your not wanting to get married could be because you haven’t found the right one yet? Maybe it isn’t because of this whole SGA thing.” Uh huh. Sure. I really did enjoy my time with these women, and became very good friends with most of them. Thankfully, most of us were able to part ways on good terms, and most have accepted me fully for who I am today.
The only step I can think of that could be on this list but isn’t, is the step of marriage. That is something I don’t think should just be “tried.” I realize that it decreases feelings of SGA for a very select few, but there is just no way I would be willing to take that risk. More on my feelings about marriage later.
If you can think of something that should be on this list, but isn’t, please feel free to contact me at gaysaint@gmail.com. Most likely, I've already tried it and just forgot to add it, but I'm always willing to accept suggestions.
1. Prayer
2. Fasting
3. Church attendance
4. Scripture study
5. Seminary/Institute
6. Temple attendance
7. Mission service
8. Group and Individual therapy
9. Weekly meetings with bishops / Blessings
10. Church activities
11. Sports
12. Enlarging my circle of male friends
13. Reading church sponsored materials
14. Dating
1. Prayer. My Father in Heaven and I still have a great relationship – and this relationship was built on prayer. I’m sure you’ve heard of other gay young men who have claimed that prayer has been a staple in their life, and I am no different. I depended so much on prayer, that I don’t think there was a single day that went by without my offering at least four prayers a day related specifically to this issue. I’ve had prayers that have lasted hours, I’ve had prayers that lasted seconds. I’ve had tears during prayers in private, and even tears during prayers in public. Perhaps, most significantly, were the prayers I said before going to bed. My mom once caught me getting into bed without kneeling, and she asked me if I had forgotten to say my prayers. I made up some excuse about how I had said my nightly prayer earlier when she didn’t see, but the fact was, I prayed from the moment my light went out until I fell asleep every night, in hopes of keeping my thoughts clean and avoiding any dreams that might end up erotic. I don’t know how long these prayers lasted on average, but often they went well into the night.
2. Fasting. I was taught that fasting on fast Sunday was really the only time someone needed to fast, and that fasting any extra was superfluous. I was taught fasting on fast Sunday was enough to show God that you were willing and ready to do his will. I started fasting half-day when I was eight, and moved to a full fast when I was sixteen. I started fasting for the issue of same-gender attraction every month when I was twelve. I never missed a month, and often added extra fasts "just in case." Even when family outings, or holidays, or something else interfered, I made up the fast the week before, in hopes of showing the Lord just how hopeful I was, and how willing I was to put Him first.
3. Church attendance. I was never one to dislike going to church. I loved every meeting, and often went to more than one church session. For a while I was a member of a Spanish speaking branch, so I would attend those meetings, a branch missionary meeting, and then attend my home ward meetings all in the same day. Even after “coming out,” church attendance has been something I enjoy doing. I can’t remember ever skipping a meeting growing up, unless I was sick. My family even made it a point to find the local church on vacations.
4. Scripture study. I love the scriptures, especially the Bible and the Doctrine & Covenants. The Book of Mormon has never been a favorite of mine, but I made sure to read it every day anyway, and always rose to a scripture reading challenge, whether issued in a class, or by the church. I’m excited to share some of the things I have learned in regards to the scriptures on this blog. On average, my scripture study started around a half hour a day, but as I found temptation more difficult to resist, that time increased to at least an hour.
5. Seminary/Institute. Most high school kids I knew would occasionally cut class when it came to seminary, without any guilt or remorse. After all, we lived in Utah, and seminary was “release time” from a regularly scheduled school day. The school didn’t really care what you did with that time. I never missed a day. Institute was the same way. I always did my assignments, participated heavily in any and all activities (yup, even early morning devotionals), and never got anything less than an A. This was the one class where I felt it was inappropriate to get anything less… after all, how could I justify a B in "“God 101."
6. Temple attendance. When I turned 12 and went to the temple my first time, I loved it so much I made it a point to go at least monthly. This schedule became harder as I grew up and had less and less time, but when I was told that temple attendance might be the key to overcoming SGA, I increased my frequency. Once endowed, I frequented as often as possible, which often meant going more than once a month. If I felt particularly unworthy, I would go anyway and sit on the grounds until I did feel worthy, or would return another time that month.
7. Mission service. I made a promise to God that if He would do two things for me, I would serve an honorable mission for Him with all my might, heart, and strength. First, I wanted my inappropriate desires to go away. Second, I wanted to learn a foreign language. I repented for the second requirement my first day in the MTC. The wording of my release letter informed my priesthood leaders at home that I served a “… very honorable mission.” They were impressed by the addition of the word “very,” as was I.
8. Group and Individual therapy. I have a whole other blog on this subject.
9. Weekly meetings with a bishop. After I started therapy, I decided I needed the help and support of everyone who wouldn’t look down on me. I started meeting weekly with my bishop, and at his request started attending a singles ward, where I met with that bishop weekly, and my home ward bishop monthly. I used these meetings to bounce ideas, report on my progress, discuss my frustration, get priesthood blessings, and get encouragement. I found these two bishops to be especially supportive of me. I still meet with that home ward bishop on an every-other-month basis.
10. Church activities. During the years when I was in college and working full time, I found it difficult to arrange my schedule in such a way that I was able to participate in church activities during the week. At the insistence of my counselor, as well as my bishop, I made such arrangements. I also participated in my own “activities” during church – such as learning the names of every member of the elder’s quorum, and ensuring that I went anywhere I was invited to go with my fellow peers.
11. Sports. Yup, I even started learning new sports. I started figure skating (I know, not exactly a "straight" sport, but it gave me an outlet where I could set and achieve goals), learned to play golf (however awfully), attended super bowl parties, learned to play ultimate Frisbee, volleyball, and tennis, and specifically integrated myself into any sports related activities at church… except basketball… I never liked basketball. I gave myself this one exception.
12. Enlarging my circle of male friends. When I got home from my mission I really only had two good close male friends. It was suggested that building healthy relationships with other men would be advantageous, in hopes of settling the need I had for male companionship with friendship. I reconnected with two mission companions, and, as mentioned earlier, learned the names of the elders in my quorum (which, subsequently, earned me a spot as the quorum’s first counselor), and started to integrate myself into new circles of friends. I consider my success in this aspect to be rather high.
13. Reading church sponsored materials. Yes, this includes the Ensign and the Liahona (the Spanish version), but it also includes Evergreen books, the church’s 12 step addiction recovery program (in hopes that I would find something useful), Ty Mansfield’s book (with Stuart’s section ripped out by my mom. She didn’t want me to read anything that could be interpreted as “failure”), my counselor's book (which is fantastic), and many others. I reread the entire missionary library during this time as well, and had my bishop order in all of the materials written specifically to church leadership in regards to same-gender attraction.
14. Dating. When I got back from my mission I was practically engaged to a girl who had waited for me. When that didn’t work out I took some time to be single, and then continued along the dating path, with the encouragement of my parents, church leaders, and counselor. My church leaders always would ask, “Do you think your not wanting to get married could be because you haven’t found the right one yet? Maybe it isn’t because of this whole SGA thing.” Uh huh. Sure. I really did enjoy my time with these women, and became very good friends with most of them. Thankfully, most of us were able to part ways on good terms, and most have accepted me fully for who I am today.
The only step I can think of that could be on this list but isn’t, is the step of marriage. That is something I don’t think should just be “tried.” I realize that it decreases feelings of SGA for a very select few, but there is just no way I would be willing to take that risk. More on my feelings about marriage later.
If you can think of something that should be on this list, but isn’t, please feel free to contact me at gaysaint@gmail.com. Most likely, I've already tried it and just forgot to add it, but I'm always willing to accept suggestions.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Mission Years
To say my mission was the best two years of my life wouldn’t exactly be the full truth, but I did gain incredible life experiences for which I will always be grateful. The people, the culture, the language, and the friendships I made were incredible. I loved immersing myself in the scriptures in ways I never could do at home, and couldn’t believe that the doctrines of the church that I had grown up with were viewed so unconventionally in average society. For those who might be wondering, I served from 2002 to 2004 in the Texas McAllen mission. Now, just in case there is a random missionary from that timeframe that might be reading this and horrified at the possibility that I was their companion, just let me assure – I feel very blessed, even lucky, to have never been attracted to one of my companions.
That said, in relation to my homosexual feelings and desires, serving a mission was very difficult. That difficulty started in the MTC, where I was forced to shower with other men. For years I had taken myself out of situations where I would be in the presence of undressed men, and I find it slightly ironic that my first experience with a live nude body was seemingly church endorsed. I did everything I could to avoid being in the shower with other people by showering at night, at odd times, or by moving to a different bathroom where the men were, at least, less attractive. Yet the repercussions didn’t escape me, and my thoughts became very difficult to control. I also was robbed of my pornography outlet (again, I was very upfront with my priesthood leaders about this… and this was before the so-called “raising of the bar”). I found myself often seeking solace, even if it was just outside of the dormitory door for ten minutes, where I would write or read scriptures in hopes of relieving the tension.
Things did get better in the mission field, although some days were better than others. I have one companion that I have now told my whole story, and he was the most sensitive companion to my issues. One night, I had had a particularly rough day, and although this person didn’t know what I was struggling with at the time, he did notice that something was bothering me. It was probably my fists that gave it away, sometimes balled up so tightly that the knuckles literally turned white. The physical agony I felt cannot be understood by someone who has not been in a similar situation. This companion looked at me very seriously as he climbed into bed, and said, “I don’t know what is bothering you, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but just promise me you’ll talk to the mission president if you have another day like today.”
I was so preoccupied that I hadn’t even noticed that he noticed I was preoccupied. I responded by telling him that I was ok, but he was serious about making me promise to see the mission president if I ever felt the same again. In fact, he wouldn’t let it go until I did.
A few weeks later, I was tracting (knocking on doors) with this same companion, when a young man about our age opened the door with his shirt off. As usual, my companion managed to get the man to invite us in, and proceeded to teach our first lesson. I remember the day well, but I don’t remember the discussion. My head literally swam through the whole thing, and the guilt I felt for being preoccupied over this man’s body over his soul was enough to send me spiraling back into that place where I physically hurt. Luckily it was getting late, and I was able to find enough distractions to keep myself from thinking about the man for the rest of the evening. That night, however, my companion said nothing, but gave me a look that reminded me of the promise I had made to him.
That companion told me just four months ago that he suspected I was gay, but that during those hard days he didn’t know what it was that was causing my suffering. He doesn’t remember the man without his shirt (and why should he?), nor did he put together that this man was a trigger that put me into the same place I had been in a few weeks earlier. I told this companion everything during a mission reunion just this last April. He is the only missionary I served with that currently knows me as an out, gay man, and his love and support has been a great pillar to me. Our friendship has only strengthened.
The day following the man without a shirt, I woke up in what could only be considered a depression. I made an appointment with the mission president, as per my promise, and actually had the opportunity to sit down with him that same day. I expected to be sent home, part of me wanted to be sent home, but after asking me a few questions regarding my past and present conduct, I was simply told that I would have an appointment set up in a few weeks with a traveling counselor from LDS Family Services. During the interim between the meeting with the mission president and the appointment with the counselor, my companion was transferred, and I got someone new. When it came time for my appointment, he was allowed to sit outside of the door, but he knew where we were. I kept trying to come up with an excuse as to why I needed to see someone from LDS Family Services, and this new companion of mine was not one to let the subject go easily. I never did come up with an excuse. I eventually just refused to answer his questions.
The counseling session was, to put it simply, a waste of time. The counselor made me feel like a sinner, like someone who was “lucky” to be on a mission as opposed to someone who was working my butt off every day to be there. He gave me a few scriptures to read regarding Nephi’s leaving Jerusalem, which I suppose was to be some way of telling me to leave my homosexuality behind to find “the promised land.” It really is too bad that this counselor didn’t understand that even those men who choose to live some sort of gospel-approved life with this problem, it never, ever, ever gets left behind.
My mission president called me a few days after my appointment to ask me how things went. I responded, “Just fine,” to which he asked if I would like to see the counselor again. My answer was, of course, no thank you. I think the mission president took that to mean that this one counseling session somehow had “fixed” me. Honestly, I felt even worse, but I knew that I was going to be home in a few months, and hoped that at the completion of a successful mission God would see fit to finally bless me with the ability to love a woman.
I was released honorably soon after, with the faith that the gospel and a conventional family was what awaited me.
That said, in relation to my homosexual feelings and desires, serving a mission was very difficult. That difficulty started in the MTC, where I was forced to shower with other men. For years I had taken myself out of situations where I would be in the presence of undressed men, and I find it slightly ironic that my first experience with a live nude body was seemingly church endorsed. I did everything I could to avoid being in the shower with other people by showering at night, at odd times, or by moving to a different bathroom where the men were, at least, less attractive. Yet the repercussions didn’t escape me, and my thoughts became very difficult to control. I also was robbed of my pornography outlet (again, I was very upfront with my priesthood leaders about this… and this was before the so-called “raising of the bar”). I found myself often seeking solace, even if it was just outside of the dormitory door for ten minutes, where I would write or read scriptures in hopes of relieving the tension.
Things did get better in the mission field, although some days were better than others. I have one companion that I have now told my whole story, and he was the most sensitive companion to my issues. One night, I had had a particularly rough day, and although this person didn’t know what I was struggling with at the time, he did notice that something was bothering me. It was probably my fists that gave it away, sometimes balled up so tightly that the knuckles literally turned white. The physical agony I felt cannot be understood by someone who has not been in a similar situation. This companion looked at me very seriously as he climbed into bed, and said, “I don’t know what is bothering you, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but just promise me you’ll talk to the mission president if you have another day like today.”
I was so preoccupied that I hadn’t even noticed that he noticed I was preoccupied. I responded by telling him that I was ok, but he was serious about making me promise to see the mission president if I ever felt the same again. In fact, he wouldn’t let it go until I did.
A few weeks later, I was tracting (knocking on doors) with this same companion, when a young man about our age opened the door with his shirt off. As usual, my companion managed to get the man to invite us in, and proceeded to teach our first lesson. I remember the day well, but I don’t remember the discussion. My head literally swam through the whole thing, and the guilt I felt for being preoccupied over this man’s body over his soul was enough to send me spiraling back into that place where I physically hurt. Luckily it was getting late, and I was able to find enough distractions to keep myself from thinking about the man for the rest of the evening. That night, however, my companion said nothing, but gave me a look that reminded me of the promise I had made to him.
That companion told me just four months ago that he suspected I was gay, but that during those hard days he didn’t know what it was that was causing my suffering. He doesn’t remember the man without his shirt (and why should he?), nor did he put together that this man was a trigger that put me into the same place I had been in a few weeks earlier. I told this companion everything during a mission reunion just this last April. He is the only missionary I served with that currently knows me as an out, gay man, and his love and support has been a great pillar to me. Our friendship has only strengthened.
The day following the man without a shirt, I woke up in what could only be considered a depression. I made an appointment with the mission president, as per my promise, and actually had the opportunity to sit down with him that same day. I expected to be sent home, part of me wanted to be sent home, but after asking me a few questions regarding my past and present conduct, I was simply told that I would have an appointment set up in a few weeks with a traveling counselor from LDS Family Services. During the interim between the meeting with the mission president and the appointment with the counselor, my companion was transferred, and I got someone new. When it came time for my appointment, he was allowed to sit outside of the door, but he knew where we were. I kept trying to come up with an excuse as to why I needed to see someone from LDS Family Services, and this new companion of mine was not one to let the subject go easily. I never did come up with an excuse. I eventually just refused to answer his questions.
The counseling session was, to put it simply, a waste of time. The counselor made me feel like a sinner, like someone who was “lucky” to be on a mission as opposed to someone who was working my butt off every day to be there. He gave me a few scriptures to read regarding Nephi’s leaving Jerusalem, which I suppose was to be some way of telling me to leave my homosexuality behind to find “the promised land.” It really is too bad that this counselor didn’t understand that even those men who choose to live some sort of gospel-approved life with this problem, it never, ever, ever gets left behind.
My mission president called me a few days after my appointment to ask me how things went. I responded, “Just fine,” to which he asked if I would like to see the counselor again. My answer was, of course, no thank you. I think the mission president took that to mean that this one counseling session somehow had “fixed” me. Honestly, I felt even worse, but I knew that I was going to be home in a few months, and hoped that at the completion of a successful mission God would see fit to finally bless me with the ability to love a woman.
I was released honorably soon after, with the faith that the gospel and a conventional family was what awaited me.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The Early Years
I was always a little different. I was the kid in elementary school who would bring fresh picked flowers to my teachers simply because I was taught to value the fact that they were of a profession that would ensure my future success. I was always sensitive, and kind to the kids other kids picked on. I remember one day specifically, when my mom and I gave a ride home to one of the girls who was a favorite class scapegoat. My mom told me, “It’s a good thing you’re nice to her, because one day she is going to grow up and be beautiful and she’ll remember you were nice to her.” Funny as it may be, that girl grew up to be one of my closest friends, model gorgeous, and now lives in Russia with her millionaire father.
I’m not trying to say that every sensitive, kind, flower-bearing man is gay, simply that, in my case, these traits came easily to me as a direct result of my feeling “different.” As I look back on it, it wasn’t these traits that MADE me different; they were just the RESULT of something I already was. I think that it is important for me to make that distinction. That isn’t to say that all homosexuals possess these traits – but now I’m getting off topic.
I’m pretty sure the first time I became aware of my sexuality was around age 12. I remember feeling my first twinge of guilt around this age when I was ordained a deacon; I had recently had my first erotic dream – which included a cameo appearance by my best friend’s younger brother. I was so terrified of church discipline (I was sure I would be kicked to the curb if I dared tell anyone about the dream, let alone about the fact that I was, indeed, genuinely attracted to him) that I simply learned to keep my mouth shut, all the while starting down a destructive path of self-loathing.
I promised myself that no matter what I would simply follow the gospel that I had been taught. I compartmentalized my feelings, and thought if I just ignored them they would go away. I continually read my scriptures, attended the temple regularly, read the church magazines before anything else, and was active in seminary, boy scouts, and young men’s. I had great experiences with dating. I prayed at least six times a day. I literally did everything I could think of that the church told me to do – not only because I believed the gospel, but because I wanted to distract myself from the ever bulging mental box in which I had sealed my feelings.
I discovered early on that I could relieve some pressure if I dabbled in pornography. This, surprisingly, I did not feel I needed to hide from my priesthood leaders, and spoke to them often regarding the issue. They never asked what KIND of pornography I was viewing, and I never volunteered the information during my teen years. I have to admit that I was a bit shocked that I never lost my temple recommend, continued to be called to leadership positions, and eventually, was called to serve a mission.
My story will continue there, next week...
I’m not trying to say that every sensitive, kind, flower-bearing man is gay, simply that, in my case, these traits came easily to me as a direct result of my feeling “different.” As I look back on it, it wasn’t these traits that MADE me different; they were just the RESULT of something I already was. I think that it is important for me to make that distinction. That isn’t to say that all homosexuals possess these traits – but now I’m getting off topic.
I’m pretty sure the first time I became aware of my sexuality was around age 12. I remember feeling my first twinge of guilt around this age when I was ordained a deacon; I had recently had my first erotic dream – which included a cameo appearance by my best friend’s younger brother. I was so terrified of church discipline (I was sure I would be kicked to the curb if I dared tell anyone about the dream, let alone about the fact that I was, indeed, genuinely attracted to him) that I simply learned to keep my mouth shut, all the while starting down a destructive path of self-loathing.
I promised myself that no matter what I would simply follow the gospel that I had been taught. I compartmentalized my feelings, and thought if I just ignored them they would go away. I continually read my scriptures, attended the temple regularly, read the church magazines before anything else, and was active in seminary, boy scouts, and young men’s. I had great experiences with dating. I prayed at least six times a day. I literally did everything I could think of that the church told me to do – not only because I believed the gospel, but because I wanted to distract myself from the ever bulging mental box in which I had sealed my feelings.
I discovered early on that I could relieve some pressure if I dabbled in pornography. This, surprisingly, I did not feel I needed to hide from my priesthood leaders, and spoke to them often regarding the issue. They never asked what KIND of pornography I was viewing, and I never volunteered the information during my teen years. I have to admit that I was a bit shocked that I never lost my temple recommend, continued to be called to leadership positions, and eventually, was called to serve a mission.
My story will continue there, next week...
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