Nothing

I look across the street and see a beautifully manicured lawn and garden. Mine is a mess, with weeds and brown grass and a completely broken sprinkler system yet again.

My brothers' rooms are clean. Mine, again, is a mess. 

My little brother just got engaged. It's been almost a year since I went on more than one date with someone. 

Many of the people I know have careers. Or know what they are going to do in the next year or five. I don't feel like I know anything... and don't know which way to go.

A teacher in Sunday School today asked me how to be a good friend. She told me I was a friend to lots of people. I had no answer. Ironic that I don't feel it.

People think I'm too busy for friends, or that I have tons of them. But when we try to get close it doesn't work... because I don't know how to be a friend.

One place I feel useful is at the temple. But I wonder if I'm really good enough to be a worker there... even to the point of not going some weeks.

I live with my brothers, but feel like I would be closer to them if I didn't... because I inevitably do things that cause strife. When we work together, I find it's better to work on the opposite side of the house. Otherwise, something will happen to push us apart.

People ask me for help, and I feel more broken than they are.

A guy who just moved into the ward asked me after Church if there was anything else happening today. He sounded like he wanted an opportunity to get to know people. I thought about inviting him to dinner, and inviting others as well, but I didn't do it. I told myself I was tired, and fell asleep as soon as I walked in the door coming home.

I asked someone to be our choir director two weeks ago. She hasn't held choir yet, and people ask me why, and I feel like it's my fault.

I still deal with depression, with loneliness that doesn't go away even when I'm with people who love me, with inadequacies and frustrations that keep me awake into the night.

I'm alone, lost, broken, tired, and worn out. 

I feel like, comparatively, I am nothing.

And yet, somehow, it's okay. Because, even with the reality - that there are a thousand things I could/should do better - I feel peace. God loves me.

Maybe it's okay to be nothing.

Misgivings

For years I've wondered if it's even worth trying. And felt, often, like it wasn't.

Friendship, I mean. Trying to get close to people. Being there when they need me and opening myself somehow to them. It didn't feel worth it because I cause so much damage... feel so awful... and I don't know that it will ever go away. I have so many problems that inevitably some of the main factors of my relationships are miscommunication and pain. Somewhere in my head I thought that all I needed to do was find the right girl who could see through everything on the outside and understand and love me - someone I could love back - and then I wouldn't have to worry as much.

I thought I understood.

And then, twice this week, people told me about experiences in their lives. Where a parent has an autism spectrum disorder and struggles to communicate and understand love... first from the perspective of a child, then from a parent.

Both ripped me apart.

Will this never end?

It never hit me that my difficulty developing relationships would extend to my kids someday. That the things I face in the outside world could become obstacles to being there for them... in the walls of my home. That having autism/aspergers could make me less of a father and push them away from me... be a barrier to enabling them to feel loved.

It makes sense. This probably isn't going to go away suddenly... and it already influences my ability to communicate with my siblings, parents, and others. Why not my kids someday? I guess I always hoped it wouldn't... and yet listening to others makes me wonder, for a moment, about having a family at all. I've wanted nothing but to be a dad for all my life - that and a missionary. But if I can't be there... if I can't help them feel loved... if I can't be the kind of dad I want them to have... can I even want a family?

I don't know. Maybe it's still worth it, because the things I'm learning make me into a better person. Maybe I can learn enough to overcome the worst of it, someday. Maybe I will be a good father somehow. But right now I find myself wondering, even about the desire to have a family here. My dream to have a dozen kids and raise them in the gospel... Yeah. I don't know what to want anymore.

I still want it though... because I believe it'll be worthwhile. I just... knowing what I know, what girl would ever want a guy like me? And what kid would want me for a dad? I don't know the answer to that. Just that the journey will always be hard.

Someone Who Understands

Some days I find myself wishing for someone who can understand me and everything I'm going through. Someone who has been where I am, made it through somehow, and can look at my life and give me the knowledge I need to survive.

I'm not talking just about same-sex attraction. Even though it's a part of the things I face, it's the least of my worries right now. Life itself, and all its pieces, just seems to have loomed up and threatened to swallow me whole... and I have no idea which direction to run for cover.

I think that for me, that was one of the hardest things when I initially realized I was attracted to guys. I had no role models, knew no one who had walked in my shoes... could find no one I to ask for advice on how to live the gospel while facing my own personal brand of life... and the result was that I felt utterly and completely alone. It probably didn't help that I didn't feel I could even tell anyone about the issues I faced, so no one knew, and they couldn't help even if they had the resources.

I've never found anyone who truly understands me... or anyone who seems able to understand even most of what's happening. Counselors and therapists listen kindly, then express a mixture of pity, shock, and concern when they realize what's actually happening in my mind (much of which I don't/can't share here). Priesthood leaders tell me that they're sure I can do it. Even family members look at me with blank expressions when I try to explain myself.

But I've realized two things. First, the Lord honestly and truly understands what I'm facing - all of it - and is able to be there for me every step of the way. Second, I don't need one person who understands everything about my life (I'm not sure I'll ever find one)... I just need different people who understand different pieces and can help me get through those areas of life. People who understand my concerns about work, others about dreams, others about long-term professional plans, others about dating and ssa, others about Church service, others about depression and illness... and as I find people who understand me and can help me in each of those facets, life as a whole gets better. It's not even that I ask them for advice. I'm awful at that. Just knowing that someone understands, and has been there, and has seen success, inspires me to make that story apply to me.

I guess that's one reason why I started (Gay) Mormon Guy. If I had known that there were thousands... or even one faithful member who had fought the same battle, and was winning, that would have been enough to give me hope to move forward. As it was, without a support group or anyone who knew, I'm grateful that somehow I made it this far. I was supported by God and His angels. That's proof enough for me that God is involved in my life. It makes me think of Elisha standing on the mountaintop, preparing to go to battle alone with his servant.

And when the servant of the man of God was risen early, and gone forth, behold, an host compassed the city both with horses and chariots. And his servant said unto him, Alas, my master! how shall we do?

And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.

And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire (2 Kings 6:15-17).

The Lord really does care about me. I've felt His hand in my life so many times when I wasn't worthy or deserving of it... and it has been enough to help me become a better man.

I'll extend the offer I've made before. I'm not by any means a perfect friend. I don't have most of the answers and can only speak from my own experience. But if you need someone who understands, contact me (my gmail address is afriendtotalk2 ). I'll listen and do what I can.

Mothering a Boy with SSA

My mom is an angel. Many of the good things I learned in life have come from her example. Seeing her kneel in prayer at her own bedside, hearing her pray for me. Watching her selflessly serve others. Hearing her ask forgiveness from me - a five-year-old or an impetuous teenager. Working alongside her outside or at service projects. Talking with her late into the night about the gospel and its application to our family... in everything she does, she has helped me know that, no matter what happens in my life, I am loved.

I finally told my mother about my same-sex attraction one night, and her response will always stay with me. Her first concern was for the pain and anguish I felt - the burden I had been carrying in something she hadn't been able to see. The next question was what she could do. She honestly admitted that she didn't know what it even really meant to have same-sex attraction, what I was facing, or what it meant for me in the future. She wanted to learn, and to understand how she could help.

Today, on Mother's Day, I wanted to highlight some of the things that my mother did for me that helped me in my path. I believe that she helped me - not only to stay alive through the times of extreme depression, but to find peace and hope in living the gospel, develop a relationship with God, and rise to the man I am today.

My mother prays. I remember countless times walking in on her as she was voicing a prayer - sometimes early in the morning, sometimes at night, sometimes in the middle of a difficult day. The image of her kneeling at her bedside is imprinted on my mind, and when she was praying, nothing took precedence. Prayer was sacred in my home, and always brought perspective to our trials. There were times that I ran away from heated discussions, and went to my room to pray, and someone walked in on me, only to quietly close the door and walk away. In many cases, the issue was already resolved before we spoke again, because of prayer.

In my darkest hours, I returned to prayer and shared my heart with God. Years of practice meant that when He answered, I could hear Him... and prayer has been a mainstay of my life and a boon to keeping my salvation and happiness intact.

My mother works hard. If I told you everything my mother did, I'd lose my anonymity. I'm pretty sure there's no one like her in the world (that may be hyperbole, but you get the picture). She is the epitome of hard work - but not just hard work, smart work. Working together on projects, we would often diagram out our plans, make charts and determine the best modality to meet our goals, then jump in with a zest that made time disappear. I learned that the good things in life come with work, and more work, and more work... and, even more importantly, that sometimes the work itself is the blessing. A cultivated garden never grows only weeds. It grows boys and men who love the earth, working with their hands, and finding ways to make life better.

There have been countless times that I've looked at my life and wanted to give up. To give in and stop working. I've put in hundreds and thousands of unseen hours, and I have nothing to show for it. The blessings I want so desperately, which seem to come to others who flippantly go through life, haven't come. But the love of work, and the perspective I learned at home, working through impossible and difficult trials, has given me a new lease on life. The Lord called me to work in the vineyard - not to bear fruit. If I will do my part, He will take care of the rest, and in the meantime, I have the opportunity to work alongside Him - in the darkest and deepest and roughest parts of life - and to see His miracles and the way they can change the world. I wouldn't trade my memories of working with my mother for anything. And I wouldn't trade the lessons I've learned from working alongside God for anything either.

My mother repents and is real. I remember once getting into a fight with my mom when I was really young. I don't remember what it was about, but I'll always remember what happened later that day. I was in my room, probably crying, and she knocked on the door, opened it, and came and knelt at my bedside. There she asked for my forgiveness... and indelibly engraved in my mind that it was okay to repent. It was okay to struggle in life. It was okay to be honest and open and admit your faults - even to those who relied on you for everything. Maybe even especially to them.

When I realized that I was fighting, and losing, the battle of ssa, part of me wanted to run away from the Lord - to reject the thought that maybe He gave me a trial I couldn't overcome on my own. But the memory of my mother, and the repentance and faith she taught me, helped me understand that it's okay to be imperfect. The Lord really did allow me to have this trial - a trial much bigger than my own ability to overcome it - so that I would turn to Him. And as I've turned to Him, He has given me strength.

My mother finds peace and joy in everything in life. We've faced extreme circumstances in my family... death, physical and mental illness, financial hardship, catastrophes, and plenty of social and emotional trials. But I have never once heard her complain... even though others sometimes do on her behalf. She finds joy in the moment, and perspective in the purpose of the Lord. To her, everything has a purpose - the question is finding that purpose, and then determining what I need to do to do my part.

There were times in my life when I wondered if it was even possible to be happy. If I would ever understand my personal purpose and why the Lord had made me who I am, and also given me the trials I have to overcome in life. And the perspective I have has made all the difference. So that when I faced death or sickness or the reality of lifelong trials that would bring certain pain, I could look up at the rain and smile... knowing that God was involved in my life, actively guiding my footsteps to make me into the man He could see - someone far better than who I see in the mirror each morning.

My mother is constantly learning and growing. She prays and speaks with God, and calls down blessings on me. She works every day of her life, focused on others. She speaks her mind to me honestly, and changes her perspective when she is wrong. She's not afraid to ask forgiveness, or to reprove when I need to change. And no matter what she faces, she strives to find the peaceful and the happy, the hopeful and the good. She actively participates in everything the gospel has to offer... and is proof that it works to bring people closer to God and happiness in life.

And that made a world of difference for me.

Dear mother, I'm grateful for what you've done for me. Your faith and example have given me a path to follow. Countless times, I've felt blessed by the Lord because of your prayers, even when I didn't deserve the blessing. May God stand as witness that you have done your part in my life. You've saved me from darkness and taught me to walk in the light... and I can never repay you for the person you have helped me become.

Lonely Doesn't Mean Alone

I had a mission companion who told me one day that he wanted to travel the world before he got married. Take a backpacking tent, a passport, and nothing else... and spend a few years away from the stresses and pressures of America's fast-paced culture.

At the time, I was confused. Mostly because the conversation was on marriage and when we wanted to pursue it. Marriage and having a family has been the deepest desire I've ever had since I was a little kid. There's nothing I want more, and I had expressed a desire to find a wife as soon as I could, marry her in the temple, and then grow together. If I took a backpacking trip, it would be with someone. The fear of being single for the rest of my life was still somewhat poignant, even though it was at the back of my consciousness.

So when he honestly wanted to put marriage off for a few years of uncommitted single living, that was completely foreign to me.

Ironically, the tables have turned in reality. My companion came home and got married far faster than he or I expected. He never took his trip into the backcountry of the world. I, on the other hand, am obviously not married (otherwise I definitely wouldn't be blogging on a topic like this). I've traveled and spent far more time alone... and that time has given me room to ponder.

I watched a clip from Ty and Danielle Mansfield's interview for Far Between a few days ago. Far Between is a project by LDS filmmaker Kendall Wilcox, asking men and women one simple question - What is it like to be Mormon and gay/same-sex attracted/SGA/whatever?

Ty was a co-author for In Quiet Desperation, a book on same-sex attraction published by Deseret Book. But the part of the interview that intrigued me was his comment on the pathway that got him there. First he had been afraid of being alone. Then he came to terms with the possibility and accepted the reality that he might be single for all of mortality. Then he learned to enjoy life. And then he found someone that he loved.

I've heard countless times in marriage prep courses that "if you aren't happy while you're single, you won't be happy while you're married," but in my heart I don't think I really believed the statement. I mean, the Church teaches that some of the greatest happiness in life comes from having a family and raising children, right? That means that not having a family, not being married, necessarily also equates to having an inferior level of happiness. So the "be happy while you're single" thing must be hogwash.

Except it's not.

There's a reason why raising a righteous family and being married in the temple lead to happiness. It's found in Mosiah 2:41.

And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it.

Lasting happiness comes from keeping the commandments of God and choosing the right. Which means that what I need to do to find happiness is simply based on doing the right things in my life, today. The Church teaches the importance of families because, in most cases, the right thing for young single adults is to get married. In the case of my companion, it was the right thing to do. In mine, the Lord had other timing in His Plan.

I'm not really sure how I feel about being alone. I still have a lot of major issues to work through, and even though I'm convinced I'll get married in this life, I still have a fear in the back of my mind that I've somehow sold my birthright... and lost that blessing for all eternity.

I am learning that alone doesn't mean lonely. I'm lonely when I feel like no one understands, or cares, and that I'm not making a difference in the world. There are definitely times in my life when I feel lonely. I also have depression, and those go hand-in-hand. But there are also times when I feel like I understand what my companion, and Ty, meant when they talked about their happy single lives. The ability to help others without major time commitments. The ability to change directions and take social, professional, and emotional risks without fear of hurting others. And a forced reliance on the Lord as Counselor, Teacher, and Friend.

There are lots of married people who feel lonely... and lots of single people who don't. Part of it may be external - the people surrounding them - but I don't think that's most of it. Loneliness, like happiness, is a feeling - an individual state of mind that comes (barring neurological issues like depression) as a result of choices and perspective... which means that I can choose to not be lonely. It's obviously not that easy, just as choosing happiness isn't as easy as it sounds, since positive thinking isn't really enough. Choosing happiness means choosing to follow the commandments of God, no matter what the short-term outcome. Choosing to not be lonely means, in my case, reaching out to others, being a friend to those who need (or seem to dislike) me, serving, sharing my testimony, and doing what I can to enjoy the beauty of life each day. And I think it would be the same whether I were single or married.

Hopefully the Lord will see me on my world tour as a bachelor and feel like it's time for me to be married. But even if that's still a long way off, that's okay. I can be happy today, and for as long as I need to be, by choosing to do what's right and leaving the rest in His hands.

Broken

There's a song I heard once that I really didn't like. It was something like "God Loves Broken Things." I didn't like the tune, the word choices, or the way the guy sang.

But the song has stuck with me, even though I can't remember the tune or any of the words, and I still remember the feeling I had when I looked inside and realized that I was broken... and that was okay.

Broken can mean a lot of things. It's the feeling of abject despair when total and absolute depression sets in - the real kind they make medication for, but doesn't always respond, no matter what I try. It's the realization that all the work I've done over years can't open the doors I need to move forward, or yet another full batch of relationships gone wrong. Dreams shattered, life in oblivion, and an apathy towards reality that pulls me from society and pushes all but those closest to me away.

I used to feel like I had no right to be powerless, no right to be depressed, no right to be broken or despondent. The sheer reality that I was, made life even worse - a cycle that pulled me deeper and deeper, until I finally let go.

Being broken has some interesting physical correlations. When I run a gazillion miles, eventually my body runs out of energy completely. At least, in the moment, it feels that way. It's sudden, and, in an instant the simple act of walking or running or biking or whatever is like pushing through mud or molasses. From all outside respects, it looks like there's really no hope unless I go eat something with a whole lot of sugar. I'm broken. But, inside, opaque to my perspective, a miracle is happening. When my body runs out of energy in the form of glucose and glycogen, my muscles switch fuels. Glucose is replace with ketone, and proteins are broken down into emergency glucose for indispensable nervous functions. Even my brain switches. And, as soon as the adaptation is over, life moves on.

I feel like the Lord is often trying to teach me something when I hit the wall spiritually and emotionally. When I feel like I've been run over by a Mack truck, or like the world is going to cave in on me... because at those times, I'm forced to look at my life and refocus on the Lord. Sometimes the rope that I'm holding on to, hoping that it will pull me up, is friendship. Sometimes it's my own will. Sometimes it's just stubbornness.

But in most cases, the rope I was holding on to wasn't a rope that would ever pull me up. It would only pull me down... and when I learned to accept reality, to be okay with being broken, that gave the Lord a chance to help me see where I needed to change.

Right now I'm broken. Physically, emotionally, socially, professionally... I feel like everything is shattering around me in every facet I can dream. Every facet but one. I know God loves me, that I'm giving my best, and that, no matter what happens, He will be with me.

And maybe that's why I'm broken - so that I can learn to better rely on the Lord instead of everything else in my life. To help me see that, when nothing else can, He has the power to bring me from the depths and do more than just fix me. From the broken pieces of my life, He creates something better than before... if I'm willing to let Him. And then I move on, until it's time to be broken once again.

My Trials Are No Different

I used to think that living with homosexuality was the worst possible trial that God could give someone. Level one trials were like having a bad day at work. Level two trials were like having a bad job in the first place. Level three, breaking up with a girlfriend. And so on, up and up the ladder of my brain until you reach the pinnacle of mortal trials.

I would have traded my life with anyone, because I honestly thought that I had the worst life in the world. Any trial would have been better. Cancer? At best, you live and are cancer-free. At worst, you die early or live a long, drawn out, painful life. Starvation? Same story. Abject poverty? More of the same. But nothing compared with my life. In my mind, no one could really understand or empathize because, in my mind, their trials were mundane.

And they had so much more help. Support groups, foundations, scholarships, 5K races, public service announcements, government programs, Church programs, charities, and a network of people who have been where they had been and could answer their questions. Name a problem, and there was a system put in place to help people overcome it, or at least find hope.

I had nothing, and my trial seemed impossible where nothing else was.

But I was wrong.

The realization came slowly, as I began to find meaning in my life and learned how I fit in God's Plan. Taken as a whole, my set of trials was different - as every trial is. But taken apart, I saw how the feelings and "micro-trials" I faced each day really weren't all that different from people all over the world.

When I feel confused about my place in God's Plan, I join millions of people looking for truth and seeking God's direction in their lives. When I feel frustration with dating, part of that frustration mirrors that felt by every other young single adult in the Church. When my mind wanders, I exercise the same willpower needed to overcome addictions. The hopelessness from fearing I'll never get married matches, in part, that felt by singles everywhere, but even more closely, those with severe physical or mental disabilities... and the same comparison happens with depression, needs in friendships, trouble understanding doctrinal applications, choosing direction in life... and every micro-trial that makes up same-sex attraction.

Every trial in life, in fact, is made up of micro-trials. I looked at everything the people around me were facing, and saw easily how decomposing their difficulties into the smallest pieces suddenly meant that I could relate to them... and that gave incredible meaning to the scripture I had read in Corinthians but never really believed.

13 There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)

I had never believed it because I didn't understand what God meant. He didn't mean that someone else in the world was experiencing the exact same set of major trials that I was. My life, and its trials, were probably unique. But if I looked closely enough, I could find people everywhere who had individually lived, suffered, and overcome the micro-trials that composed my life...

And with that realization came another: my trials had been specifically chosen for me. God had a clean slate to send me into mortality. He could have sent me here with anything. But He didn't. He didn't send me with cancer or to struggle with alcoholism. He didn't send me to Africa or the Middle Ages. He created my life perfectly with the trials and blessings and talents and gifts that I needed to return to Him. And for that I am grateful.

I used to believe that my trials were impossible to understand. That no one could relate or give me useful advice. But the Lord taught that, looking closely at life, there hath no temptation [or micro-trial] taketh you but such as is common to man. Every temptation and trial can be overcome.

My trials are no different.

Even though it be a cross that raiseth me

I was just playing the piano and listening to the words of hymns in my mind, and the last one I played was "Nearer, My God, to Thee." For a long time I've known that all of the things the Lord gave me - same-sex attraction included - were gifts to help me somehow return to Him. But the music of this hymn, seems to break through the simple words I've used before and speak volumes to my heart.

Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me.
Still all my song shall be nearer my, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone,
Yet in my dreams I'd be nearer, my God to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

There let the way appear, steps unto heav'n;
All that Thou sendest me, in mercy giv'n;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

Then with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

The Lord knows my heart, and He knows me as His son. He loves me, and because He does, He gives me everything I need to be happy and to come closer - nearer - to Him. The cross that lifts me is my own. I have been given trials and tribulations - steps unto Heaven, given by God through His mercy and love - intended specifically for me... and with the one express purpose of lifting me from the mundane world of mortality and raising me up to happiness, joy, love, and eternal life. With that in mind, I can look at my life, my circumstances, and who I am inside... and turn to follow God and become nearer to Him. And as I do, everything will work out.

Or if on bended wing, cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upwards I fly,
Still all my songs shall be nearer, my God, to Thee.
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

If You Could See Inside My Mind

... You'd probably find a couple of seemingly contradictory layers.

On the outside is the assertive, optimistic, passionate, and successful person that is "me" in social situations, that shows through on a first date, and the way that others see me when they watch me from a distance. It's a construct - but not a facade - that displays who I am and how I want others to experience me... and more than that, it's the interface by which I've found I can influence the world for good. I change my outer shell whenever I need to - not drastically, but to better meet and understand the needs of the people with whom I work on a day-to-day basis. Here I'm a friend and teacher - someone that can make a difference.

A little deeper is the honest, raw, rational reality of my life - the endless list that describes my (or anyone else's in the world) life and experience from a purely objective standpoint. This comes out among friends, or even in casual conversation beyond the first few minutes... and is where I spend much of my time here at GMG. You'd see my reactions and reflections in the moment, feel the pain I feel, when I feel it, and rejoice when I find meaning in life, or things just seem to work out. This world is uniquely fatalistic - not because I believe I'm fated to experience life as I am, but because, if it never works out, learning to be content with what the Lord has given me is the only way to survive. Here I'm just another person - tossed back and forth and the sum of what happens to me... and sometimes I wonder if I'll ever amount to anything.

Another level deeper and you find faith - pure and simple - and the reality that is my life in emotions and in my heart. It's the meaning I find when I've been suffering from intense depression, the joy at helping someone find peace and joy in life, and the commitments I've made to myself, to God, and to others. It's the sum of my beliefs, all held up like a pretty, perfect picture... and sometimes I stand here in GMG. This is the level and layer where I think of myself as the hero in a story about changing the world.

And the last layer is the real me. Beyond the outer shell, the things that happen to me, and the morals that I claim to espouse, who am I, really? What choices do I make in the dark of night when no one is watching? How do I honestly feel about others, and what are my motives in everything I do? Here, I'm just another person. Another son of God, another man trying to make it through life into eternity... and here, finally, I am in control of not only my choices, but my happiness. If I choose the right, and know that I am following God, life becomes far simpler than the other layers make it out to be. Do what is right, and let the consequence follow... and God will take care of me.

I am a child of God. I live here, in life, with a thousand different outside influences on my mind each day. I have moral and ethical concerns and concepts that the Lord teaches me, line upon line. And, at my core, I am who I choose to be. And, at least today, I can cut through the layers of the outside and see myself for who I am. A son of God, trying to move forward, honestly doing what I can to not betray the spark of divinity that ties me to Him. And when I see that, everything makes sense... my life is perfectly fair... I am filled with hope and peace... and I am honestly and truly amazing.

The Good and the Bad

I've almost posted half a dozen incredibly depressing posts over the last week, only to have my introspection cut short by something that totally lifts (and changes) the mood. The First Presidency Christmas Devotional was a good example. I had had an awful day - bad enough that others IRL (in real life) started to notice - and I was writing a post titled "When I Want a Guy," in reference to a guy at church who had somehow distracted me from multiple hours of worship. Depression, frustration, stress, and a strong unwanted attraction for another guy - definitely strong emotions to put on paper. But as soon as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir began to sing, everything began to change. I felt a wave of peace, I forgot about the guy who had consumed my thoughts, my tears changed from despair to hope, and I knew I couldn't write on that topic anymore. So I used Twitter and logged some of my thoughts. If you didn't see the devotional, it's worth watching, period. You can see it at LDS.org. Especially amazing were the clips from the new Bible films the Church is creating - they only have scriptural quotes as script - no filler lines... just images that allow you to feel the Spirit and know what is happening... and are magnificent.

It happened again as I sat on the outskirts of a social activity, frustrated with myself, when someone came up to me and began to outline, slowly and honestly, the things they admired in me. I felt, in that moment, like God really was watching out for me, because this person that I don't even know well prays for me... and I know that God hears and answers prayers.

More depression met with a letter from someone sharing a powerful success story and the joy of reading about his ability to move forward, more frustration met with people who stopped and honestly asked if was ok and what could they do to help me in my life. If only I knew. But, together, it meant that every time I felt at the bottom of my game, there was someone there to raise me up... and for that I am incredibly grateful. Even in the bad times, the Lord finds ways to help me... to lift me and bless me and get me moving... and so I keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Fear of Friendship

I'm trying to befriend a guy I recently met - mainly by finding things we have in common... things we can do together. It's not a relationship based on attraction; I just need more friends who are already my colleagues. He's an upstanding guy, and I'm trying to make it work.

Slowly I've felt like maybe I'm making headway... where headway really isn't much... getting a response when I talk with him, or coming up, twice, with something that we could do. It's something... but not much.

So it shouldn't have been surprising when he canceled on me today because he was doing stuff with another friend... and didn't invite me because he wasn't sure if I'd want to come... but surprise isn't the right word. What had been a good day suddenly turned about-face and went downhill from there.

The strange thing is that I know, completely, that to him there isn't a breach in our slowly-growing friendship. Difficulties in communication are totally normal for people when they're learning about each other, and we really don't know each other very well yet. We'll meet up tomorrow, and it'll be like nothing happened on his side. Everything is normal, and there's no need to be concerned. So why do I feel betrayed, frustrated, confused, or whatever it is that's inside my head? This doesn't really make sense.

Looking back, though, I don't think this is an uncommon experience. I don't get close to people very often - especially guys. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm afraid the relationship won't last even if I try. And then, when I actually do try, and the relationship shows any sign of need for improvement, red flags go off in my head instead of just being something to note for the future.

It could be because I've had people disappear on me before, without any notice. Relationships that seemed to be healthy from every aspect I could see that disappeared overnight, without a trace... and that left plenty of evidence that it was somehow my fault. I think the paranoia makes sense on that regard - having friends who move away so they don't see me anymore, others whose last words are that it's too hard to be my friend, and others that simply cut off all communication without explanation are good reasons to be paranoid about any sign that I could be losing another battle.

But does the paranoia, regardless of whether it's self-made or circumstantial, really help? Or is it just shooting me in the foot? For much of today, I've struggled to concentrate on anything for very long. And tomorrow, will it affect me? Is it something that I can even change? And the sheer act of writing a blog post on something so incredibly small makes me think that I have OCD.

I think that maybe this is a sign that I'm expecting too much from my relationships with other people... far too soon. And I guess that makes some sense... based on the friendship patterns that have worked and not worked for me in the past. Most of my friendships just disappear with the circumstances that brought us together. The only real friendships that have lasted a long time have been with God and a few family members. Right now, whenever I need someone to talk with, or consult, or if I have any need at all, I turn to God... and He's always there for me. He's always willing to drop anything to listen, and He will always take the time to understand when I need help. I can work, or go to the gym, or simply sit, and He is there - ready and willing and able to be a friend. My family is the same. And when I'm looking for friends, I guess I'm expecting them to fit that role, and that's what I find myself trying to offer as a friend.

But people don't always want an instant best friend - someone who treats them like family from the first meeting. And some people can't reciprocate, or aren't used to that level of trust... and while I want to be the perfect friend, and completely available to people, sometimes I'm not. I get lost in depression, and so busy that I don't check my phone for hours or my email for days.

That feels like the issue here at hand... and I think what I need to do is just realize what is happening inside my mind and come to grips with what is happening. As I slowly gain friends, they're going to be imperfect. They aren't going to know my thoughts unless I share them. They aren't going to know the frustrations and difficulties I face in life unless I tell them. And even if I do tell them, that doesn't mean that they will understand. They may not always be around for me. They may not ever really empathize or get what I'm facing. But one thing I do know - if I can be a friend to them, at least they will care about me... and they'll be able to slowly help me become a better person. And each person will have the ability to fill at least some small part in my life... and that's good enough.

Will I ever find a mortal someone who really gets me? I don't know. Hopefully, if/when I fall in love, that woman will be able to understand what's happening in my head, and I in hers, but I'm not sure that's very likely. Normal guys have enough trouble communicating and intuiting. :) But I think I'm making headway with the subconscious within me. People are imperfect. Relationships, even if they don't work out, are worthwhile. Don't be afraid to dive in, but remember to give everything and expect nothing in return. That way, everything I receive is a gift.

Suicide

It began in passing. I had dropped in to see a friend who was attending a performance, and the musician on stage began to play his guitar and sing. The melody was catchy, but the words cut to the core, speaking of leaving family, friends, life, problems, and pain behind... and encouraging onlookers to not judge for what they couldn't see. The words drew tears for me, thinking about people I knew and memories of my own life... I looked around at the audience members and wondered how many of them really understood what he was singing about - how many really understood how fragile life can be, even in someone who seems to have everything put together? Did they really understand? The performance met with rousing applause, when I would have given silence instead. That was my answer. And that began the first of my recent recollections on life and death.

It happened again in music, again a song I hadn't heard before, sung by an acquaintance onstage. And again the lyrics echoed pain and sorrow, suffering and frustration. She belted it, and inside I realized that, to her, the song was just a song. Music with a catchy beat and rhyming words, not a glimpse into the reality that stalks people who stand by us today and may not tomorrow.

The topic showed up in the news, was mentioned in conversations, and became a sudden centerpiece for discussions as people talked with me. It's not something I almost ever talk about... but it came up, over, and over, and over again. And so it's my topic now... and hopefully it will help someone here.

I used to want to die. For years I wanted to die. I felt alone, outcast, depressed, isolated, different, friendless, worthless, cursed, evil... and I felt like I had nothing good to offer the world. I believed, honestly, that while some people might have cared about me, they would truly be better off without me in their lives. They only cared because they cared about everyone... or because they had to... and if they really knew the true me, complete with sin and addiction and imperfections, even they would turn away.

Taking my own life was never an option, because I knew that it was wrong, it would devastate my family, and it would have eternal consequences (I think that was one of the most vital things I learned in Primary - suicide is a major sin that will keep you from salvation. That knowledge kept me alive. Really.). So I would curl up in a ball and cry and pray that somehow I wouldn't have to wake up in the morning and face the world again. I spent many nights simply crying for that... but it obviously never happened.

No one knew. Not my parents, or the people at school, or the people at Church, or even the people who tried to be closest to me. On the outside, I was perfect. Perfect in everything, happy, a shining example of whatever it was you needed an example for. But inside I was a wreck.

The only solace I ever found was in my personal relationship with God... but even that took time to develop, time to encourage, time to truly understand. Late at night, when the world was falling in on me and nothing could lift my hopes, I learned to turn to God and pour out my tears to Him... and He listened.

The Lord never came to me in person to dry my tears. He didn't send angels from Heaven. But every time I turned to Him and asked to know if He loved me, He found a way to tell me that He did. Sometimes it was in the wind, sometimes in the rain. Sometimes in the sun, or the clouds, or the scriptures, or a talk in Church or a message from someone in my life. No matter what has happened, I have always known that God loves me... and, for me, that makes living my life worthwhile. God loves me. He created me, and gave me everything I can't control to learn to be happy and grow to become the man He sees in me. And with Him at my side, I can do anything.

Today, suicide is still not an option. But it tugs at the back of my mind when days are dark and I wonder if I'm doing anything worthwhile, or if I'm ruining the Plan Father has for me.

To all of you who understand - who have felt pain and sorrow so intense that it seems better to give up - I share my love... and I say that you are important in the eyes of God and the eyes of the people in your life. You're important because once you smiled at the bus driver and it helped him to have a better day. You're important because you live by morals that others watch, silently and in the shadows, and because your example inspires them to change the world. You're important because people care about you, pray for you, think about you, and want you to be a greater part of their lives. And you're important because you have a story and a gift that only you have - a place in God's Plan to save His children and bring them happiness that no one else can ever fill... and that comes from your life, your struggles, your faith, your falterings, and your relationship with God. You are amazing, and you are a literal spirit child of the God of the Universe. He did not send you here to fail... which means that, no matter what has happened, He stands at your side, ready to help you move forward and find the hope and peace and happiness you need.

Hope is shining brightly on a cold November night
The moon is gone, the stars are dark, and yet there still is light
Because beneath the wind and through my pain a whisper sounds...
"My Son, I love you. And it will be alright."



A talk by Elder Ballard: Suicide: Some things we know, and some things we do not know.

Tis a Gift to be Simple

Last night I had a conversation with a guy that made me think a lot about who I am and why I'm here in life. He and I have a lot in common, and the circumstances under which we met were incredibly serendipitous. In talking with him, I was hoping to see a mirror of myself, a pattern to learn from, a form of good and bad and better choices to apply in my life. I wanted answers to some of the questions I've had in life - an understanding of how he's learned to cope with the problems that I face. But, while I could see myself reflected in a few of the things he said, as the conversation progressed, I realized that our problems and trials have far less to do with each other than I had ever expected... and there would be no easy answer by the time we said goodbye.

In the hours since, I've wondered about who I am, what exactly I'm supposed to be doing here, and the destiny that I have waiting on the horizon. I've always had the feeling that life was going to get much, much harder for me in the future... from when I was little... and the feeling persists even today. This is only the tip of the iceberg. And so I wonder exactly what the Lord has in mind for me. My patriarchal blessing talks about sharing the gospel, and about being a father, healer, missionary, teacher, counselor, and leader. It doesn't talk about living with same-gender attraction, or fighting depression, or navigating the paths of learning to be a friend. It doesn't talk about abuse, or fear, or how to develop lasting friendships by becoming more vulnerable in relationships when I already wear my heart on my sleeve and put everything in my life on the table.

And it makes me wonder how some of the people in the scriptures felt during points of their lives. Don't misinterpret me. I'm not a prophet or an apostle or even anyone with authority in the Church. But I wonder how Moroni felt when he was alone, running from the Lamanites... how Paul felt on his missionary journeys, how John the Beloved feels as he serves among people who never truly become his friends. And how Christ felt when He alone understood what it was that He was called to do.

It makes me wonder if this is just part of my gift - if I was just supposed to learn sublime principles from feeling alone, or if it's supposed to inspire me to action, both of which have happened many times. If I had tons of friends, I would never have started this blog. I probably wouldn't have cared as much about people suffering in the world. I wouldn't have the time to respond to personal emails, text, chat, and meet people to help us come closer to Christ... But because I've been able to watch people change, it has been worth it. It will always be worth it.

I don't know what the future holds... whether someone will feel the call to be my friend, or I'll develop the abilities that elude me, or I'll go through life as a missionary - making intense, short-term connections with people all over the world. Thankfully, if I do my best, the Lord will take care of me - in the short and long term. He cares about me and is involved in my life. And that makes life a whole lot more simple.

Epic Fails in Friendship

For most of my life, I believed I could do anything I wanted, well. So did others... and experience supported that belief. Now I realize how incredibly wrong I was.

I may be good at athletics, academics, music, or internalizing church doctrine. But in the things that really matter - developing long-term meaningful relationships with others - my track record is a long list of failures.

Ability to make and keep friends from elementary school? Fail. Friends from any other school? Fail. Friends from work? Fail. Friends from the mission? Fail. Friends from past wards? Fail. Friends among extended family members? Fail. Friends in the dating world? Fail. And friends as part of a physical support group - people I can turn to when I'm having a rough day? Epic fail.

I honestly think that this - my inability to develop meaningful lasting friendships - played a role in exacerbating same-sex attraction... and that seems to hold true with some of the things I've discussed with other guys who are moving forward - as they are able to develop more meaningful non-sexual relationships with men and women, living with same-sex attraction gets at least a little easier. I'm not sure if it's because friends create a social network and support system, or if there are emotional needs that are met through friendships that, unmet, masquerade as SSA. I don't know because, despite my attempts, it never happens. Something about me destroys relationships with a perfect certainty... and that knowledge probably only further accelerates the process.

Take a recent example - I had a guy I was helping to come back to Church, change his life, and learn to be happy. He didn't have SSA. We spent a ton of time together, and over the course of a few months he was able to change. But as soon as that change happened, life pulled us apart and I haven't had a conversation with him since. I invited him to half a dozen different things, but as the relationship atrophies I feel powerless to stop it, and it doesn't seem like he has any interest in knowing me anymore... so I drop it and move on. And that's the story of my life. Meet people - men and women - feel a desire to be involved in their lives and a desire to be accepted by them... if I get close to them, they usually have massive, painful, life-changing experiences... and then they disappear.

The end result is that I've never had a group of friends to go do stuff with, or even one friend that stayed on for the ride. When I want to go running, it's always alone, even though I know a hundred people who love to run. They just would rather not run than have me running with them. I know - I've tried. When I go hiking or biking, or attend the temple, or go to a museum, or do almost anything, it's alone... I have short-term friends, for a few weeks or sometimes even months, but each of them eventually disappears or consciously walks away. They each had logical and plausible reasons for not pursuing the friendship... and I can't blame them.

Sometimes I wonder about the irony of pulling both the same-sex attraction card (which means I have a rough time with romantic relationships) and the difficulty-making-friends card (which means I have a rough time with non-romantic relationships). The end result is that I have a rough time with all informal relationships - everything that doesn't involve structured roles like student-teacher or mentor-mentee. I'm grateful that being alone taught me to turn to God, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to overcome it and be able to rely on people in my life. Right now, I look at relationships as opportunities to help other people. I walk into every environment with the question, "How can I help this person come closer to Christ?" But at the same time, I expect it to end when they're done with me. I'm never someone's only or best friend, even if they're mine... and eventually that friendship will disappear - sometimes suddenly - in the course of 5 seconds - and sometimes over weeks. But none of them last, and inside I don't believe they will, simply because they never have.

Wow. This post was longer than I intended. And probably more depressing to people on the outside. This isn't a sob story or an account intended to engender pity or emotional grief. It's just a thought from my mind, and maybe it will help put into perspective some of the choices I make. Everything I do is based on the precept that I'm going to be alone for a long time - surrounded by friends in the short term, but constantly breaking ties and having to make new ones. From experience I've realized that no relationship can ever thrive longer than a few months, then my investment in people has to be front-loaded, and I'm far more willing to do things that will help them in the beginning, even if it jeopardizes the relationship we have. That's a good summary of how it works in my mind. And changing this has proved far more difficult than any temptation with same-sex attraction.

We're Not Alone

For most of my life I honestly believed that no one in the world understood me. When we talked about temptations that people have in Sunday School, being attracted to guys was definitely not one of them. And while there are stories in the scriptures of men who repented of adultery, murder, and tons of other sins, the scriptures never share that type of story about men like me. At the same time, the population of anti/ex-Mormon gay voices is becoming more predominant... and the message they share is usually very clear: the Church was not a hospitable place for us.

Together, those circumstances made me think I couldn't exist... or at least that my ideal self - being happy, fulfilled, and faithful - would be impossible. That living an active life in the Church would incur huge amounts of pain - or at the least, would require me to "deny who I was" and "live without love" for the rest of mortality.

But I was wrong.

One of my key flaws was thinking I was alone in the fight - like President Monson in his story about boot camp in the Navy, I thought that I would have to stand alone - me against the world and every statistic that claims happiness isn't possible. But, like in the story shared in General Conference, as I made my stand I realized that there were men right behind me who felt the same. Men who knew who I was, and who had walked in similar paths.

Today I look around and see the shroud of hidden darkness beginning to disappear. Film studies about men who are faithful and LDS. Books written and published by Deseret Book. Useful and relevant topical research guides on homosexuality at LDS.org. And a commmunication network that unites us all in brotherhood.

The truth is, there has always been Someone who understood me - God Himself. And when I wondered if life was even worth trying to live, He knew what it was like. Christ suffered all things - including my struggles, like feeling alone with SSA in the Church... and because of that, He is always at our side. He understands us and wants us to grow, keep the commandments, and find happiness and peace in doing what is right - becoming like Him. He will never abandon us. And because of that, we are never alone.

Washing Seven Times in the River Jordan

When I struggled most with addictions to pornography, felt worse as a gay mormon than the sludge of the earth, and couldn't even bring myself to pray, inside my heart I still had the wish for a miracle. The wish to be clean... to be made whole... to be normal.

In the scriptures I feel a kinship to many of the people who undergo suffering in life... but perhaps no one more than the lepers - men and women physically cast out of their homes and families because of leprosy. Leprosy in the times of the Jews was viewed almost exactly as homosexuality was by me on my hardest days... and it had almost the exact same effects. An incurable curse of uncleanliness... an unspoken and unspeakable condition that divided me from humanity and feeling loved or understood by mankind. Except that, unlike the lepers, who could be seen and upon whom others could take compassion... no one could ever see my sores... there was no one to share my pain.

In 2 Kings, chapter 5, the scriptures tell the story of a man named Naaman. He was a good man... but he had leprosy... and he was miraculously healed through non-miraculous means.

1 Now Naaman, captain of the host of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master, and honourable, because by him the Lord had given deliverance unto Syria: he was also a mighty man in valour, but he was a leper.
2 And the Syrians had gone out by companies, and had brought away captive out of the land of Israel a little maid; and she waited on Naaman's wife.
3 And she said unto her mistress, Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy.
...
9 So Naaman came with his horses and with his chariot, and stood at the door of the house of Elisha.
10 And Elisha sent a messenger unto him, saying, Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee, and thou shalt be clean.
11 But Naaman was wroth, and went away, and said, Behold, I thought, He will surely come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper.
12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? may I not wash in them, and be clean? So he turned and went away in a rage.
13 And his servants came near, and spake unto him, and said, My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? how much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean?
14 Then went he down, and dipped himself seven times in Jordan, according to the saying of the man of God: and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.

Someone asked me this week what my solution was. What had I done that had tamed the dragon of homosexual desires and freed me from the draw of pornography and the grasp of addiction? I've tried hundreds of ideas - reading books, writing journal entries, buying good music, getting priesthood blessings, dating, trying to make friends with guys and fix old relationships, and making convoluted deals with myself to reward good behavior and punish bad. But none of them worked. They all seemed to give me some strength, and they all seemed initially to be the answer to my desires... but in the end none of them stuck. I found myself in the same hole as before. And, in reality, the answer was right in front of me all along.

For most of my life, I had the same misunderstanding that Naaman did. Like leprosy was to him, homosexuality seemed to me an unbearable and unusual trial - something that merited an unusual miracle to set me free. I wanted a priesthood blessing that would make me fall in love with a girl, or a set of unique therapeutic techniques that would leave me never wanting to see pornography again. That didn't happen - the same way Elisha didn't come out and strike the spots to make him clean. 

I saw very little success until I tried one last thing - focusing on the basic principles, the Primary answers, of the gospel. And not just focusing on them, but making them into the fabric of my life.

In Preach My Gospel it says that a study of doctrine will change behavior better than a study of behavior will change behavior. In my mind, I visualize my spirituality and ability to keep the commandments as a long line compared to the topics of the gospel. I was on solid ground around my testimony of the Book of Mormon, my belief in the prophet, my commitment to the temple. But where pornography and all its attendant demons lay, there was a massive chasm that stretched down into the abyss itself. 

For a long time, I tried to fill the abyss by throwing rocks in it. I'd pick up a technique like turning off the Internet in my apartment, and toss it in, hoping that it would suddenly cause the chasm to rise. Um... it doesn't take a geologist to tell me that's not going to happen. 

But any kid on the beach can tell you there are two ways to fill, or dig, a hole. 

When you dig a hole in the sand, you dig straight down. But eventually, because the sand relies on other sand laterally to support it, and the undersides are slowly eroded by water exposed by the hole, the sides of the hole collapse in an ever-expanding ring. The same thing happens with many problems in the gospel. Let them grow deeper and deeper, and eventually the problem that was once small will erode away everything. I've known men who bore powerful testimonies as they began to struggle with same-gender attraction... or who were just facing offense in the Church... but who gave in to it and years later told me they didn't even believe in God.

Filling a hole, or building a mountain, works the same way. You can try to build upward, but the higher the sand pile, the larger the area it covers. And because in the gospel it becomes easier to grow the more righteous you are, filling a hole is easier... and makes more sense... by focusing on simply increasing faith that is already there nearby. When I learn and apply principles of the gospel, my faith "spills over" into other areas - because the gospel is related.

Obviously, there were things I had to still focus on. Throwing caution to the wind because I do my scripture study is foolhardy. But it wasn't until I started truly focusing on the "little" things - prayer, scripture study, church activity, serving others, and sharing the gospel - that my demons and my hole of faith began to shrink. But that is how it worked for me. And as my faith has grown, it has set me free.

I'll include a major caveat. I'm not talking about scripture study where I sit down and read for ten minutes before sleeping, or prayers said quickly before bed. Those never had the power to change me. No. I needed much, much more, over a much longer period of time. One of the scriptural meanings of the number seven is "a whole lot." Naaman had to wash a whole lot of times in the river Jordan; I had to do a whole lot to begin to see results from filling my hole of faith. And the results I saw weren't complete and total change, but an increased perspective and faith in the Lord that He would fulfill His promises. Either way, it was worth it. My scripture study was daily, and combined with more time on Sunday translated into literally hours of personal reflection and writing each week - trying to see personal stories and meaning in the scriptures even when it was hard to stay focused. My prayers lasted sometimes for hours - written and spoken and voiced conversations with God on every topic under the sun, learning about Him and His will in my life. It meant that I took personal responsibility for as much as I could in Church, and actively reached out and included others even when I felt left out. I opened my mouth and shared the gospel even when I felt awkward and out of place. 

I think the biggest initial shock and investment was the amount of time that it took to actually live the gospel and do the small things enough to make it work. It took me at least 15 hours each week to do just the basics - earnest prayer, meaningful scripture study, reflection, and journaling - not even counting spontaneous service and missionary opportunities. I found I had to plan out my day and week or I would end up turning down social invitations because I needed to take the time to pray or write or study. But I wanted to change who I was - enough that I was willing to wash in the Jordan as many times as necessary... and over years, slowly, it has changed my life.

Unlike Naaman, however, I'm still washing in the Jordan today... and I'll probably have to wash in it every day for the rest of my life. I still have to worry about the pull of pornography jumping from the shadows, and attraction taking center stage in my mind. I may be attracted to some men for the rest of mortality. But every time I read the scriptures, pray, or turn to the Lord in faith, He strengthens me... and I am that much closer to being the man He sees in me. I'll get there someday. But I'm pretty certain it will take a whole lot more than washing in a river seven times.

Addiction, Abuse, Depression... and Hope

I have a family member who has always seemed like he was okay from the outside... but who also seems to carry some type of hidden weight that I can't understand. We aren't close enough that he would ever tell me his struggles, even though I wish I could be there for him... and often all I can do is watch and wonder what to do.

Today I learned that he had made a decision that put him in direct conflict with the teachings of the Church and everything I knew he had learned in his family - on principles that I thought I could take for granted in his life. When I found out I just sat and cried.

I cried because I was confused... because I have no idea why he made the choice he did. I cried because I was frustrated that I couldn't understand. I cried because I didn't know what to say, or even if I should bring it up, or how I should breach the topic. And I cried because, in watching him, it brought back memories of all the other people I've loved who have made similar decisions... decisions that maybe won't deny them their salvation today, but that, too often, influence the choices they make tomorrow and the next day... and before they know it, they've chosen to leave the Church - not from one big thing, but a thousand little ones, mixed with a lack of reading the scriptures, personal prayer, and developing a relationship with God.

And then, as I was crying, I realized that I was also crying because I could see myself in him... and my mind flooded with memories of my own choices - times when I was in huge amounts of pain and chose to act against what I knew was right.

At 16 years old, I was sexually abused. I had already spent years fighting the pull of pornography and finally felt like I was winning when it happened... and the experience was enough to rip my world apart. That day, I believed that it was my fault - that if I had been a better kid, more righteous, more faithful, then the abuse wouldn't have happened. The thoughts that ran through my head were powerful. God protects the righteous, but He didn't protect me... which means that I was a sinner, and not worthy of His love. I envisioned a shield of power that surrounded those with faith... and a field of deviance surrounding those like me. I believed that somehow my past decisions must have come out in subconscious invitations to a sexual predator. I thought it was retribution from God, or a penalty I had to pay, or proof that I hadn't really conquered my devils - because I must have done something to invite the abuse. Either way, I was less than worthless, evil, cast off, and doomed to damnation. It seemed like there was no light or hope in my life. And it didn't seem like anyone cared or understood... because I felt so guilty about everything involved that I could never bring myself to tell what I saw as the true story.

I was at home one night that week, struggling with the massive pull of pornography, and a new deep and confusing desire to die, and I finally found myself kneeling at my bedside in tears. I hadn't felt worthy to pray, to read my scriptures, to do anything that would bring me to the presence of God... but somewhere, deep inside, I knew that only He could really help me fix the problem I had created and find peace, even if I had lost my chance at salvation. The tears of pain and frustration and remorse and guilt and fear wracked my body as I sobbed an shared my pain, and told everything that I had wanted and hoped for and how it had shattered in a moment. I prayed for something, anything to help me fix my life, overcome my temptations, and become clean again. I didn't know if anything would happen. The pain was still there, the temptation was still there, the guilt was still there... but I kept praying... because I wanted to believe. 

I didn't get an answer of peace or comfort right away. Instead, I began to remember all the times the Lord had given me strength - the opportunities I had to share the gospel, the people who looked up to me when I didn't even know. I remembered the love I had as a home teacher, and the love I had for the scriptures, and the countless times that He had already answered my prayers and given me hope and helped me in little ways, even as I struggled with sin. 

As I prayed that night, crying by my bedside, I felt stronger, and for a moment, I believed that, with God, I could do anything. Conquer any trial, best any temptation, be the change I wanted to see in humanity and the world. I believed that because He told me it was true - that, if I would simply turn to Him, there was no hole too deep, no tunnel too dark, no sin too great to keep His grace and love and help from me. He would always be there, no matter what, as my Father, my God, my Savior, my Friend. And then I felt peace - peace and the assurance that the abuse I had experienced wasn't my fault... that I hadn't destroyed my life beyond hope... that I could come back to Him someday.

I went to sleep that night peacefully for the first time that I could remember. It wasn't the last time that I pled for hope, though - while the experience gave me hope, it wasn't enough to change me or to help me rise completely from my addictions. But I knew that He was still there for me... even the hundredth time that I fell and believed that I had forsaken my birthright. He would always be there... and eventually we would win the war... if I would just keep holding on, whether each battle was won or lost.

I look back at my family member who is struggling with making choices... who is on the edge of choosing to serve God or the desires of the world. And, as confused as he may be, I know what I can do for him. Love him, support him in the good he does, find ways to help him know that God cares and is involved in his life, help him grow in faith... and never give up or give in. No matter what demons we face, God is always the answer. No matter how many times we have fallen, or how we have strayed, He is here with us... and no matter what happens, He will always be here at our sides.

When No One Understands... Or Cares

Living with same-sex attraction has been a lifelong series of ups and downs... and the time I spend down is pretty awful. Right now, my life is in order and I feel like I am on top of the world. But tomorrow, or the next day, it could very well start to spiral downward into an inevitable crumble into pieces... with or without my permission or any action on my part.

I have clinical depression that is unrelated to being attracted to guys or the rigor or stress of societal structures... which only adds to the conflict. When I write while I'm depressed, my writing is... somewhat depressing. So I thought I'd reflect on my feelings and then what gets me up and out while I'm currently not in the hole.

Sometimes I feel totally and completely worthless. Like no one could ever love me, even if they wanted to... and that if anyone knew about my struggles and the real me, they would reject me in an instant. I feel like everyone around me spends time with me just because they have to. People read this blog because they have nothing better to do. And even my family would disown or at least ignore me if it were allowed by Church standards.

In those moments, I don't want to talk with anyone. I don't want to do anything. And my mind wanders and offers me alternatives that could ease my pain - choices of addictions that could easily numb and soothe into an amnesia to cover my tears. If I give in, then I feel even worse. And even if I don't give in, finding the strength to pray for help and live my own life the way I want to, the pain is still there. It really doesn't make sense to ever give in... and thankfully I've developed habits that have kept me safe.

For me, peace only comes through the Spirit - from God. I can exercise until I'm exhausted, give service until I'm broke, organize activities and do missionary work... but ultimately the healing comes from God - not from any individual thing that I do.

I felt that way not that long ago. I had run out of coping strategies and finally found myself, at the end of the day, at the temple... asking the Lord to give me peace in the midst of the chaos. I asked, and asked, and asked, and asked... and then, as I was listening, He suggested that I pray for others - that I focus my thoughts on them. I did... and spent the next half hour praying for people, by name, asking for specific blessings on their behalf. By the time I left the Celestial Room, and had finished writing names on the prayer roll, my face was streaked with tears. And as I walked outside, I realized that a burden had been lifted from my heart. Somewhere, between my fervent pleas and the exit door, the Lord had given me the peace I needed... as I had focused on others, and sought the Lord in their behalf.

That's the one thing that always gives me hope and lifts me from the depths - finding some way to lift another. Seeing a need, and being able to fill it. Being a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, a teacher, a friend. Somehow, my own problems disappear when I pray for others and reflect on their pain.

And then the days go on and the world is beautiful. Depression can be beaten, over time, and with help, on a continuum. And even if it doesn't go away or respond to clinical efforts, I can still live and breathe and find peace and joy in life - which is the same as living with attraction to guys... and all the emotional baggage that accompanies it. Peace, joy, happiness, love, hope, faith, salvation - it's all available to me. Yeah, it'll take a lifetime of hard work. Yes, it may not happen as I want or in my timeframe. But the sun always comes out, one day after another. The clouds always clear from my sorrows. There is hope shining brightly before me, and I know that deliverance is nigh... because God is with me, at my side, through it all - even when it feels like no one understands... or cares.

Homosexuality Isn't Just About Sexuality

"Diagnosing" same-sex attraction relies on biological signs - men who are sexually attracted to other men, and not to women, and vice versa. But as I've lived and learned from my life, I've realized that same-sex attraction, especially for faithful Mormon members, is not just about physical urges. Sexual attraction only tells part of the story.

When a good Mormon guy is dating a girl, he is usually looking for "chemistry" on multiple levels. Physical attraction - which is somewhat arbitrary and often independent of any third-party assessment of beauty. Intellectual attraction - the desire and ability to understand, know, and share the mind and thoughts of another. Emotional attraction - the desire and ability to understand and share their feelings, hopes, dreams, passions, and loves.

Each desire for attraction comes out of an innate need for intimacy in each context - physical, emotional, and intellectual. But, like attraction, intimacy isn't a need that someone can just choose to fill, or to have filled. They have to fit the part. Intimacy - physical, intellectual, and emotional - is a specific need that can only be met in specific ways.

Now switch to my world. And realize that I am not only physically attracted to men... but intellectually and emotionally tied to them as well. Just as in the case above, my needs for intimacy are tied to gender. And trying to make them fill themselves doesn't work all that well.

I can stand next to a girl I'm dating, put my arm around her, run my fingers through her hair, and whisper in her ear. But when I do, I'm just going through the motions. Trying to light a fire that hasn't yet seen daylight. And eventually I have to give up, because my physical need for intimacy hasn't been met. 

I can sit on a staircase talking with a girl for hours, sharing everything about me and learning everything about her. But when the night is over, I still feel like I don't understand her, or like she understands me. I'm trying, but it isn't working. And eventually I have to give up, because my need for intellectual intimacy hasn't been met.

I can share my dreams, my passions, my hopes, and my fears with a girl. I can open up and show her the secrets in my heart - the things that I care about most - and talk about how the gospel and my relationship with God has made me who I am today... and listen to her do the same. But at the end of the night, I feel like a missionary - not a lover... and while I have come to love her, it's no different from the love I have for anyone else. I'm still trying, but it isn't working. And eventually I have to give up, because my need for emotional intimacy hasn't been met.

At the same time, I feel a pull towards other men... and doing any of the above things with them fills a void that always seems painfully empty. But the pull doesn't always involve powerful, passionate feelings of lust. Sometimes it's a powerful desire to understand their minds. Sometimes it's a desire to know and support their dreams and hopes and passions. But it's always a desire for intimacy in some way - a need that seems like it will never be filled any other way.

This is what the gay community is talking about when they say "homosexuality isn't about sex." It's the reason why some who live with same-sex attraction choose to have monogamous long-term relationships, and the glue that sticks them together when the physicality of that relationship ends. Homosexuality is about sexual attraction. But it's also about emotional attraction, and intellectual attraction - attractions based on basic needs which, unmet, have far more pressing effects than does celibacy.

Physical celibacy isn't a new thought for society, especially for religious people. The expectation from God is that men and women will practice complete abstinence outside of marriage between a man and a woman, and complete fidelity in marriage.

The ease of keeping that commandment, however, depends a lot on hormones and available avenues to righteously fill part of the need for physical intimacy. Once hormones turn on, most guys and girls can cuddle, hold hands, kiss, and look each other in the eyes and feel pretty good about their needs being met. But with same-sex attraction it doesn't work that way, at least not in today's society. To try to righteously fill my need for physical intimacy, I have to find ways to make do in everyday life. A handshake with someone at Church. Sitting next to a guy in class. Standing near a coworker at work. None of those sound at all romantic, and they're not. They're just as un-useful in filling my needs, but they're also all I have. Which is why pornography is such a huge problem among young men with same-sex attraction - even those who will never be sexually involved with men. At this point in my life, the only positive way I can think of meeting my needs for physical intimacy would be playing huge amounts of direct-contact sports.

So I'm physically celibate and lack physical intimacy. I try to choose the right and follow the directions of the prophets, which exclude most of the activities that people use to fill their need cup... They essentially ask me to keep my cup half empty. So I turn to the Lord and He takes care of me, as He has everyone who faces this. With Him, I can do it. He's asked me to. What isn't explicit in the talks given by the Brethren... but is perhaps even harder... is emotional and intellectual celibacy. Something that, explicitly, no one would ever wish on their worst enemy... but still happens as a side effect anyway.

You remember, talking with a girl does nothing to fill my need for emotional and intellectual intimacy. But most guys don't want or need emotional intimacy with another guy. They don't need intellectual intimacy with another guy. And, for whatever reason, many of them have significantly lower needs for intellectual and emotional needs for intimacy in the first place. One reader here put it like this: "You're asking for a relationship that some guys aren't comfortable having even with their wives." I can have passing meaningful conversations with guys, or try to share my dreams, but, again, it never fills the void.

And then I'm at a turning point. And, just as with physical intimacy, there are multiple options. There are other guys who have innate emotional and intellectual needs that match mine - other guys who live with same-sex attraction. But while finding a guy with whom to be intellectually and emotionally intimate might work, is it the best option? And what would be the guidelines?

I've done a lot of thinking about this topic lately. And reading. And praying. The direction from the Brethren is the same as it always has been - be morally clean... which sometimes seems like it isn't enough direction, but in reality is. It means to never put myself in places where my morals could be compromised. To never make exceptions. To stay clean. And, in my case, it definitely means that dating guys, tying physical intimacy with the intention of finding one to partner with, is not an option. I'll have to find emotional and intellectual friends the normal way, and slowly grow our friendships to find best friends to eventually and severally meet my needs. But in my case, because of other factors I won't mention here, even that won't work. Developing those intimacies hasn't worked at all - not even casually.

And so I find myself alone, without the ability to fill any of my needs - individually or severally, and yet told by the Church to be happy, for the rest of my life... with no one who understands. For a while I wondered how that would ever be possible. And then, one night in prayer, I was talking with God and I realized that, with all my pleading, I had never truly had the faith to give Him my life, say, "Thy will be done," and ask Him to help me. So I did. I asked, and for the first time in as long as I could remember... I felt peace, love, hope, joy... and the powerful mixture of feelings I'd expect would come when someone who I love completely embraces me and knows my heart and soul.

Being Mormon with same-sex attraction has far more consequences than a sexual drive directed towards men. I have specific, incredible, important psychological needs that can't be met any other way than by through a guy... and through God. But the incredible truth of the gospel, and of the power of God, is that meeting those needs, and living the gospel, and being happy, is possible in my life... even though they may never be met by a mortal... because the Lord will always prepare the way.

For Better or Worse... In Sickness... and Depression

I had a history teacher who was incredibly passionate in high school. He seemed slightly crazy and would bring up incredibly random facts and ideologies, then find ways to convince us of their application to life. Amid recommendations to read "The Last of the Argonauts" and attend obscure, questionable theatrical performances, he introduced us to biorhythms... and gave us each a chart with the task of mapping out our own individual biorhythm and corresponding highs and lows.

I remember my curiosity being piqued... it makes sense that the mind and body follows discrete patterns... but is there an actual way to track them, outside of the stuff that girls do? I definitely wondered if there was anything real about biorhythms, and tossed myself headfirst.

The first problem I ran into was inherent bias - the placebo effect. If I chart my own biorhythm, it's much more likely to become true if I think it's a plausible explanation for mental, spiritual, physical, or emotional health. And it's more likely to be false if I disbelieve it in the first place. Unfortunately, I've never had the opportunity to have someone else track my moods and performance over time and match them to my "official" biorhythm according to the normal equations... but ultimately that's not totally relevant. What my teacher was trying to explain was the importance of understanding when to fly and when to fall back - the natural ups and downs of life and how to best use them.

I hit a massive down this week. On a bunch of levels. All at once. It would have been the bottom of all my biorhythms - the day that the charts told me to stay inside and plan nothing important. It was Memorial Day. So I found myself feeling like my head would explode, my brain turn to mush, and my whole body would freeze (wrapped in a dozen blankets), while simultaneously having to cancel holiday plans because I couldn't stop crying. Craziness. My depression has ceased to really be detrimental on my overall attitude, but it still makes me wonder about it all. The thought was more than a little absurd - here I am, able to tell my body to do pretty much anything I want, and yet I find myself crying for absolutely no reason and totally unable to stop. And when I've been crying for hours, posting and responding to comments is no longer at the top of my list.

Something this had made me wonder about is the huge amount of uncertainty that will come when I eventually find a wife. I probably won't find someone as messed up as I am (since the blog here at (Gay) Mormon Guy doesn't even scratch the surface of my problems)... but everyone faces trials. Everyone has difficulties. And everyone has things the Lord has or will ask them to consecrate beyond their personal will. I guess I just wonder what those things will be like for the girl I'll someday marry. What's her story of learning to trust and rely on God? Of coming to know who He is? Of finding peace in the doctrines of the gospel as they bring perspective to everything in life? How did she realize that all things, even potentially complicated or hard things like same-sex attraction, can be for our good and give us experience if we "endure it well," "love God... and serve Him"?

Someday I'll find a girl to marry. And we'll promise to each other and to God to love and support each other - whether or not health comes... Whether or not our dreams come true. We'll make the commitment, and rely on the Lord, finding peace and hope and happiness in the truth that the gospel brings each day.