--
Just a note: Although this entry doesn’t specifically tell of my first homosexual experience (nor will I ever relate those types of details), it does discuss how I met my first boyfriend, and the spiritual experiences that relate thereto. While recounting this story to a friend, just as it is outlined here, she told me it was “too much information.” However, it is a pivotal point in my story, and the spiritual experiences contained herein MUST be recounted.
--
It wasn’t long after that experience with the church, that shift of faith, that I met Dave (name has been changed). Dave was an interesting fellow, and we became friends long before I knew he was gay (blame it on faulty gaydar if you want). When we finally discussed his sexuality, I suddenly was filled with a million questions: What was it like to be an out gay Mormon? How did you resolve the inner conflict? What did it take to come to terms with, what I considered was, breaking the law of chastity?
In counseling, I was told I needed to stop running away from my fears. Whenever I had met anyone else like Dave in the past, I immediately ran in the opposite direction. This tendency I had to run away affected my relationships with male friends, as well. I never allowed myself to get too close to someone I was attracted to, just in case. This was a behavior I was told I needed to change, so I decided to maintain my friendship with Dave. This, to me, necessitated my telling him of my own personal struggles with homosexuality.
He took the news very well, and promised to never do anything to make me uncomfortable. The joke flirting he was known for while thinking I was “straight” stopped immediately, and he did nothing but listen and answer my questions to the best of his ability. I found this to be very comforting, and also very strange. I was always taught that gay men were only after sex, and after telling Dave of my own homosexuality, I practically expected him to pressure me into more intimate situations. This was simply not the case. Dave respected my boundaries, and I respected him for that.
When I told him I had some more embarrassing questions to ask him, that I didn’t think would be appropriate to do in private because of my own temptations, he immediately suggested we go to dinner. The public ambiance of a restaurant would remove any possibility of “falling into temptation” while maintaining enough privacy that our conversation would not be overheard. I was cautious at first, because I didn’t want to feel like I was being taken on a date. We resolved that we would each pay for our own meals, take separate cars, and treat it as nothing more than two friends going out to eat, because, after all, that would be exactly what it was. We went to Panda Express so nothing would be too formal, and I finally got to ask the questions that had been weighing on my mind regarding alcohol, drugs, sex, promiscuity, and the more negative details of the gay lifestyle.
Questions led to more questions, and when dinner was over and we had been sitting in the restaurant for far too long, our conversation turned back to religion, and I thought it would be safe to invite him back to a house that I was watching for a friend so that we could continue our conversation.
As the night drew to a close I saw something in Dave’s eye that sent my head into a spiral. There was a glimmer there that told me he was starting to have feelings for me. I knew he would never act on this interest, out of respect for me, but I also knew that the situation had come that I had prepared for during the last 12 years of struggle. That fact didn’t scare me as much as knowing that I wasn’t strong enough to resist. I started telling myself that there was nothing wrong with wanting to know what it felt like to hug him, but before my train of thought could go beyond that, I excused myself and went into the bedroom, where I hit my knees in prayer.
I pleaded with my Heavenly Father. I told him that the moment had come where I would fall, and I knew I wasn’t strong enough spiritually, even after all of my preparation, to resist. The worst part was that part of me didn't want to resist. I begged God for any excuse… a telephone call, an earthquake, a fire, an angelic vision, anything to distract me or give me a reason to send Dave home.
In that moment I think I felt the spirit more strongly than I ever have in my life. I could almost make out the words, “It will be alright.”
I argued back. A spiritual revelation like that was not enough. Couldn’t I at least get a “Don’t do it!”, or “You'll go to Hell!?” Things would not be alright, I was going to fail!
The voice returned, and simply said, “I know.”
I don’t believe those two words were an endorsement, maybe not even approval, but I did learn more about agency and the lengths to which God is willing to go for my happiness. I knew that God wanted me to be happy, and that if His way wasn’t working for me, then He was willing to allow me to try my own.
I think when people say they received an answer from God telling them that it was OK to be gay, that they aren't lying. I know, from an LDS perspective, that such an answer would seem impossible. But I think, perhaps, that such a claim is simply an answer similar to mine - and what a loving God it is who gives us such range on our agency.
My resolve remained unsure as the spirit drifted slowly away. The only thing that remained was the knowledge that I was, in fact, gay, and the choice in this situation wasn't whether or not to break the laws of God, but whether or not I would allow myself to love. Did I dare allow my relationship with Dave to grow? Was it even possible for me to love? I had tried with so many women without success, so since I had never felt those feelings was it even possible? I didn't know.
But I finally got off my knees, resolved to give love a chance.
Showing posts with label counsel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label counsel. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
A Shift of Faith
I can tell you the exact moment when I lost faith in the church’s ability to help me overcome my same gender attraction. It was the same moment that I realized they had no understanding of my struggle. Sure, I knew that Elder Oaks had stated that the causes of homosexuality were unknown. I knew that the church didn’t officially endorse marriage or reparative therapy as a solution to the “problem.” But for some reason I continued to believe that there was something I was missing, something that could be found in the church, something I wasn’t doing, or didn’t understand, that by finding, would put into perspective the grander scheme of my place in the plan of salvation. Now I leave that for God to reveal, and hope that he will do so using the church. Until then, I’ll finally listen to the choir of church leaders that I had heard for so long singing “I don’t know.”
The moment was rather simple. I was sitting in sacrament meeting in my local single’s ward during the time that the federal marriage amendment was before the senate. Around this time the church put out a letter requesting all of its members to write their senators in support of the amendment. Our high-counsel man got up to read the letter, but instead of simply reading what was put out by the church, he first attacked “gays and lesbians” as being “detrimental to society and the sacred institution of marriage.” His rant continued for about ten minutes (perhaps there was just some time left in the meeting he felt he should fill?), before finally reading the letter, adding his personal testimony to the fact that the amendment needed to pass, and sitting down.
The bishop during this time knew of my plight. He purposely avoided my eyes during the entire tirade, and did not stop the man at the pulpit. Obviously I was furious. I remember feeling my hands ball into fists, hoping no one would notice while at the same time feeling an overwhelming desire to get up and march out in protest. The only reason I didn’t was because, at this time, I wasn’t prepared to come out publicly.
To make matters worse, as the words of the closing hymn were being sung, I was struck by the incredible hypocrisy that only I seemed to notice. I looked around the congregation in awe and wonder as they sang “As I have loved you, love one another.” I got so choked up I couldn’t sing.
That night I wrote my senator asking him to vote “no” on the federal amendment to legally define marriage between one man and one woman.
The next week I had my regular appointment to see my bishop and report how I was doing. After informing him of the astonishing event I had witnessed, and that he had been apart of the week earlier, and telling him of my choice to write my senator in opposition to the amendment, I was informed my temple recommend was then in danger. I was, the bishop informed me, in violation of two of the temple recommend interview questions (paraphrased): 1. Do you sustain the leadership of the church, and 2. Do you support or affiliate yourself with any group whose practices are contrary to the doctrines of the church.
I did not lose my temple recommend that day, but was warned to repent and take heed. I left the office flabbergasted and awed that such a display of outright hatred was expressed with no repercussions. This fact caused me to distrust my bishop’s sincerity in his quest to help me. I realized that the church, with all of its understanding of both the physical and spiritual world, had no idea, or just didn’t care, what it felt like to be a full-fledged worthy member struggling with same gender attraction. There was no endorsed program to help me, and those that tried to help knew less about how to help than I did.
The moment was rather simple. I was sitting in sacrament meeting in my local single’s ward during the time that the federal marriage amendment was before the senate. Around this time the church put out a letter requesting all of its members to write their senators in support of the amendment. Our high-counsel man got up to read the letter, but instead of simply reading what was put out by the church, he first attacked “gays and lesbians” as being “detrimental to society and the sacred institution of marriage.” His rant continued for about ten minutes (perhaps there was just some time left in the meeting he felt he should fill?), before finally reading the letter, adding his personal testimony to the fact that the amendment needed to pass, and sitting down.
The bishop during this time knew of my plight. He purposely avoided my eyes during the entire tirade, and did not stop the man at the pulpit. Obviously I was furious. I remember feeling my hands ball into fists, hoping no one would notice while at the same time feeling an overwhelming desire to get up and march out in protest. The only reason I didn’t was because, at this time, I wasn’t prepared to come out publicly.
To make matters worse, as the words of the closing hymn were being sung, I was struck by the incredible hypocrisy that only I seemed to notice. I looked around the congregation in awe and wonder as they sang “As I have loved you, love one another.” I got so choked up I couldn’t sing.
That night I wrote my senator asking him to vote “no” on the federal amendment to legally define marriage between one man and one woman.
The next week I had my regular appointment to see my bishop and report how I was doing. After informing him of the astonishing event I had witnessed, and that he had been apart of the week earlier, and telling him of my choice to write my senator in opposition to the amendment, I was informed my temple recommend was then in danger. I was, the bishop informed me, in violation of two of the temple recommend interview questions (paraphrased): 1. Do you sustain the leadership of the church, and 2. Do you support or affiliate yourself with any group whose practices are contrary to the doctrines of the church.
I did not lose my temple recommend that day, but was warned to repent and take heed. I left the office flabbergasted and awed that such a display of outright hatred was expressed with no repercussions. This fact caused me to distrust my bishop’s sincerity in his quest to help me. I realized that the church, with all of its understanding of both the physical and spiritual world, had no idea, or just didn’t care, what it felt like to be a full-fledged worthy member struggling with same gender attraction. There was no endorsed program to help me, and those that tried to help knew less about how to help than I did.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Counseling
After my mission, it quickly became clear that my prayers to overcome my same gender attraction would not be answered. I think part of me expected the mission to be the sacrifice required to show God I was worthy of an answer, and willing to go to great lengths to get one. When I realized that the feelings I had were not going to go away, and after ruining yet another relationship with the girl that had waited for me (all of the relationship stuff really should be a blog of its own. It’s coming… haha), I decided the next step would be to seek help from others. I knew I couldn’t keep fighting on my own, so I did one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life – I told my mother my struggles, and asked for her support as I spoke to church leaders and sought professional help.
To say my mother took the news badly would be an understatement. Sometimes I wish I had a mother who would simply look at me and say “I love you anyway,” but the first words out of her mouth were, “This is the worst thing a mother could hear.” She’ll deny that she said that to this day, but my impressionable, fearful, timid, and despairing mind was seared with those words. I can’t say that I blame her, or that I think the words she said were untrue. In fact, I sympathize with her – if that is how she felt just how hard was it for her to imagine how I felt. Those were not the words I needed at that time. To her defense and credit, after that initial shock, we cried together, and reaffirmed our love for each other that night. My mother offered to put up half of the costs of counseling, and I had an appointment with LDS Family Services the next day.
I was extremely nervous on my first trip to LDS Family Services. In fact, I had a hard time feeling like counseling was a good idea. I sat in the waiting room with people who had addictions and other problems, and honestly had a hard time seeing how my situation justified the same thing theirs did. After all, I wasn’t addicted to anything – how could I be addicted to something I had never had? I wasn’t mentally deficient in any way – even the APA agreed with me on that. But I filled out the survey I was asked to fill out in the lobby anyway: Did I do drugs? How often? Did I find that my alcohol use interfered with my work? Was I happy? Was I sleeping? I checked the lowest box on the happiness question, but didn’t feel like the rest really applied.
My counselor was the third person to whom I had vocally admitted being gay. I drove much further than the closest Family Services building because I was assured that this counselor had “experience” with what the church called “same gender attraction.” It turned out, however, that this man had never worked with someone dealing with my feelings. In fact, he told me he had never even heard of someone coming into Family Services before they acted out on homosexual urges. He committed to help me to the best of his ability, and promptly gave me the assignment to carry around a picture of the Savior, and make marks on a paper every time I found someone of the same sex attractive. In addition to making the tick marks, I was to look at the picture of Christ every time I made a mark, and try to figure out what thought process led me to feel like I wanted to look at another man.
The pad of paper was full of little tick marks by the end of the day. I didn’t really understand how focusing on my attraction was going to help, but certainly having the little book did nothing but bring those feelings to the surface and make me feel worse about myself. What made me look at these men? How about the fact that they were there? That they breathed? That so did I? Were those valid reasons?
I went back the next week to find that the counselor was ready with the name of someone else who might be better able to help me.
I don’t remember the name of this counselor either, but I can tell you I preferred talking to him. When I arrived (at another distant location different from the first), I found him to be more focused on helping me accept myself (funny how when the church says that they mean something different than when the world does), and building my self-esteem. This man was an addiction counselor, and still had no experience with homosexual attraction, but he made a more earnest effort at helping me to control my thoughts. He talked to me at length about masturbation, about the church’s view on it, about how he as a married man engaged in it for some time, and about how he felt about it. I found this line of discussion a bit disturbing, because it didn’t seem to me to be a good idea to talk to the gay kid that comes into your office about your private escapades with yourself. I saw him for a little less than a month before he referred me to someone outside of LDS Family Services who, I was assured, was a specialist and dealt only with same gender attraction.
Before I move on to the next and last counselor, I want to make something very clear. During my first few sessions the option of shock therapy (as part of a “reparative therapy routing”) did surface. I was actually the one who brought it up, and although surprised, both therapists at LDS Family Services assured me that if that was an option I wanted, then they would be able to arrange for it. I assured them that I did not wish to go that route, and that I was asking to ensure that they didn’t support such practices. Both assured me that they did not, but the fact that they knew how or who to contact in regards to such options, scared me just a little.
My final counselor was a gentle man by the name of Jim Lewis. Jim Lewis was an Evergreen endorsed counselor who did not believe in "adversion" therapy. His mantra to all of his patients was “You are man enough.” My experience here was a good one, and if anyone is considering therapy to help overcome homosexual desires, even with the way I feel now concerning such therapy, I would still highly recommend Jim Lewis. His methods are applicable to all people in all walks of life. It was he who helped me realize that I had internalized a lot of self hatred and doubt, but hid that hatred even from myself. He was the first to admit that the way I had been taught and treated in the church and in society was to blame. Jim helped me to embrace my entire self, which included the part of me that was gay and the part of me that was LDS, and taught me to love myself first, in the hopes that I could then learn to love another.
When I was sufficiently progressing, he asked me to join a group session. I did so with a little trepidation, but was happy to find that I not only enjoyed the sessions, but got to meet a lot of fantastic people who were just like me. Jim had another counselor that worked with him by the name of Christy (although I’m not sure I have the spelling correct), who really touched me. I felt like everyone involved really cared for me, and their experience working with people who are homosexual gave them a love and a perspective for us that I wish everyone in the LDS culture could adopt.
From hatred to appreciation, I learned to stop viewing myself as a homosexual, homosexuality as a sin, and a sin as something to hate. Instead, I appreciated the unique gifts I possessed as a gay man. I know that Jim and Christy would have preferred a different outcome for me, but when I left their care by my own choice, openly honest with them about the choices I had made, they were supportive and caring. I never felt judged or condemned by them – in fact, only uplifted.
It is important for me to conclude this chapter of this blog by saying that Jim often told me there was nothing wrong with me, and that there was nothing to fix. He was very honest in telling me that out of the hundreds or thousands of men who had been through his program, only three now claim to never be bothered by homosexual desires, though many more have “learned to live with said desires differently.” I knew, after many conversations with God, that these desires would not change in this life for me. I knew that the best I could hope for in this life was celibacy and a continued Hell, or a choice. The choice for me wasn’t whether or not to go out and live a life of sin and debauchery, but whether or not to love another person. I hope that as you read these blogs you will begin to understand why I chose the latter, that you will understand that being gay is not a choice, but loving is.
To say my mother took the news badly would be an understatement. Sometimes I wish I had a mother who would simply look at me and say “I love you anyway,” but the first words out of her mouth were, “This is the worst thing a mother could hear.” She’ll deny that she said that to this day, but my impressionable, fearful, timid, and despairing mind was seared with those words. I can’t say that I blame her, or that I think the words she said were untrue. In fact, I sympathize with her – if that is how she felt just how hard was it for her to imagine how I felt. Those were not the words I needed at that time. To her defense and credit, after that initial shock, we cried together, and reaffirmed our love for each other that night. My mother offered to put up half of the costs of counseling, and I had an appointment with LDS Family Services the next day.
I was extremely nervous on my first trip to LDS Family Services. In fact, I had a hard time feeling like counseling was a good idea. I sat in the waiting room with people who had addictions and other problems, and honestly had a hard time seeing how my situation justified the same thing theirs did. After all, I wasn’t addicted to anything – how could I be addicted to something I had never had? I wasn’t mentally deficient in any way – even the APA agreed with me on that. But I filled out the survey I was asked to fill out in the lobby anyway: Did I do drugs? How often? Did I find that my alcohol use interfered with my work? Was I happy? Was I sleeping? I checked the lowest box on the happiness question, but didn’t feel like the rest really applied.
My counselor was the third person to whom I had vocally admitted being gay. I drove much further than the closest Family Services building because I was assured that this counselor had “experience” with what the church called “same gender attraction.” It turned out, however, that this man had never worked with someone dealing with my feelings. In fact, he told me he had never even heard of someone coming into Family Services before they acted out on homosexual urges. He committed to help me to the best of his ability, and promptly gave me the assignment to carry around a picture of the Savior, and make marks on a paper every time I found someone of the same sex attractive. In addition to making the tick marks, I was to look at the picture of Christ every time I made a mark, and try to figure out what thought process led me to feel like I wanted to look at another man.
The pad of paper was full of little tick marks by the end of the day. I didn’t really understand how focusing on my attraction was going to help, but certainly having the little book did nothing but bring those feelings to the surface and make me feel worse about myself. What made me look at these men? How about the fact that they were there? That they breathed? That so did I? Were those valid reasons?
I went back the next week to find that the counselor was ready with the name of someone else who might be better able to help me.
I don’t remember the name of this counselor either, but I can tell you I preferred talking to him. When I arrived (at another distant location different from the first), I found him to be more focused on helping me accept myself (funny how when the church says that they mean something different than when the world does), and building my self-esteem. This man was an addiction counselor, and still had no experience with homosexual attraction, but he made a more earnest effort at helping me to control my thoughts. He talked to me at length about masturbation, about the church’s view on it, about how he as a married man engaged in it for some time, and about how he felt about it. I found this line of discussion a bit disturbing, because it didn’t seem to me to be a good idea to talk to the gay kid that comes into your office about your private escapades with yourself. I saw him for a little less than a month before he referred me to someone outside of LDS Family Services who, I was assured, was a specialist and dealt only with same gender attraction.
Before I move on to the next and last counselor, I want to make something very clear. During my first few sessions the option of shock therapy (as part of a “reparative therapy routing”) did surface. I was actually the one who brought it up, and although surprised, both therapists at LDS Family Services assured me that if that was an option I wanted, then they would be able to arrange for it. I assured them that I did not wish to go that route, and that I was asking to ensure that they didn’t support such practices. Both assured me that they did not, but the fact that they knew how or who to contact in regards to such options, scared me just a little.
My final counselor was a gentle man by the name of Jim Lewis. Jim Lewis was an Evergreen endorsed counselor who did not believe in "adversion" therapy. His mantra to all of his patients was “You are man enough.” My experience here was a good one, and if anyone is considering therapy to help overcome homosexual desires, even with the way I feel now concerning such therapy, I would still highly recommend Jim Lewis. His methods are applicable to all people in all walks of life. It was he who helped me realize that I had internalized a lot of self hatred and doubt, but hid that hatred even from myself. He was the first to admit that the way I had been taught and treated in the church and in society was to blame. Jim helped me to embrace my entire self, which included the part of me that was gay and the part of me that was LDS, and taught me to love myself first, in the hopes that I could then learn to love another.
When I was sufficiently progressing, he asked me to join a group session. I did so with a little trepidation, but was happy to find that I not only enjoyed the sessions, but got to meet a lot of fantastic people who were just like me. Jim had another counselor that worked with him by the name of Christy (although I’m not sure I have the spelling correct), who really touched me. I felt like everyone involved really cared for me, and their experience working with people who are homosexual gave them a love and a perspective for us that I wish everyone in the LDS culture could adopt.
From hatred to appreciation, I learned to stop viewing myself as a homosexual, homosexuality as a sin, and a sin as something to hate. Instead, I appreciated the unique gifts I possessed as a gay man. I know that Jim and Christy would have preferred a different outcome for me, but when I left their care by my own choice, openly honest with them about the choices I had made, they were supportive and caring. I never felt judged or condemned by them – in fact, only uplifted.
It is important for me to conclude this chapter of this blog by saying that Jim often told me there was nothing wrong with me, and that there was nothing to fix. He was very honest in telling me that out of the hundreds or thousands of men who had been through his program, only three now claim to never be bothered by homosexual desires, though many more have “learned to live with said desires differently.” I knew, after many conversations with God, that these desires would not change in this life for me. I knew that the best I could hope for in this life was celibacy and a continued Hell, or a choice. The choice for me wasn’t whether or not to go out and live a life of sin and debauchery, but whether or not to love another person. I hope that as you read these blogs you will begin to understand why I chose the latter, that you will understand that being gay is not a choice, but loving is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)