While I was a part of Courage, I often heard talk of sublimating or redirecting our sexual passions.
Since leaving Courage, I have been in conversation with a few of my friends from the Church who have suggested that if I was so suppression-focused, maybe I was going about carrying the "cross of homosexuality" in the wrong way. That maybe, if I was focused on fixing or suppressing my sexuality, I was doing it wrong.
The suggestion is that sublimation, not suppression, should be my goal for my sexual passions as a homosexual person - that basically I should try to funnel my sexual energy into other pathways such as caring for the poor, or developing strong friendships, or some form of religious expression. I've tried for so long to understand this idea of sublimation vs suppression, but in the end it feels like in this case sublimation is just a fancy word meant to hide the goal of suppression in nicer-sounding language.
In a way, I feel like a person who has been told to take the hunger she has that drives her to eat food, and to use that hunger to smell all the scents that the world has to offer - but hunger doesn't work like that, hunger is there to tell us that we need something and if we try to satisfy our hunger by smelling the rain in the trees or even by smelling good food, we are going to find ourselves frustrated. Yes, at first, all those smells will seem wonderful - but eventually those smells will become torturous as we realize that we are never getting closer to actually tasting or swallowing what we have smelled.
I'm not saying that we will die, necessarily, if we don't engage in sexual activity. But I am saying that we are not going to satisfy our desire for that deeper intimacy with one person by creating connections of service or friendship with more and more people. Instead we are going to increase our feelings of isolation and loneliness as we increase the numbers in the crowd around us, because in all this crowd of wonderful friends and acquaintances we have not gone to the depth of connection that we truly desire with a single one. It's like going to a buffet but never planning to eat.
More friends, more networking, more social and service-based connections are great - but just like the smell of fresh rain in the morning, these will not satisfy my desire for true intimacy. I am longing, like most of the single world, for that one person I can love completely and give everything. For that human person whom I can stand naked with in the garden of paradise, for that person without whom even paradise itself cannot be but lonely for my heart. Not even the closest friendship can fill that desire for a life partner.
Tuesday 31 July 2012
If We're Not Trying to Fix It, Then It's Not A Disorder
Saturday morning, I spent some time chatting online with other ex-gay survivors. One of the questions that was raised really made me think: if the publicized goal of a program is for homosexual persons to obtain celibacy (complete refraining from any sexual activity), and that group or program does not advertise or publicly suggest conversion therapies, isn't that something better than and different from an ex-gay program that focuses on conversion?
I've had people attempt to "remind" me, since I publicly came out as leaving Courage, that Courage does not advocate (at least not publicly) conversion therapy but rather advocates a 12 Step approach to celibacy. Yet all the while I was a part of Courage, and these individuals also, none of us were surprised to be reading about various conversion therapies that were encouraged, and every single one of us was praying that we would experience a cure.
I'm going to attempt to break it down so it makes sense.
If we agree with the Catholic Church that homosexuality is "intrinsically disordered" and all homosexual activities are therefor sinful, or if we decide that homosexuality is similar to an addiction or an illness, then how does it make sense for us to not seek to "cure" homosexuality?
So you see the problem. These programs, programs like Courage, claim that homosexuality is intrinsically disordered. They then claim that they don't seek a cure or engage in conversion therapy, that they just use 12 Steps to help people refrain from sexual activity.
But for the entire time I was a member of Courage, I never met another Courage member who wasn't also reading some other ex-gay literature on the side, or going to counseling with the goal of converting their sexuality, or attempting in some other way to change their orientation. All of us were hoping for a miracle, because no one wants to be ill forever and we all viewed our sexuality as an illness. As something wrong.
If, however, we agree that it is wrong to attempt to convert or change one's sexual orientation, then we are by definition agreeing that there is nothing wrong with the varying sexual orientations that exist. Because if there was something wrong, we would seek to correct it.
There is so much more that I still want to talk about and that I am still working on figuring out. I don't think that so many years of struggling to "fix" my sexuality is something that I can properly explain or heal from in a period of six months - and it has been six months now, since I quit Courage. I feel like I am only beginning to unravel some of the falsehoods I believed, some of the feelings and thoughts that drove me into the arms of the ex-gay movement, some of the fears. I also feel like everyone around me expects me to just be okay now, or to just move on with life like none of these past years ever happened.
But I can't do that. It takes time to work through these questions, and a million "ah ha" moments when things click into place. I still have friends who are priests and religious sisters and conservative Catholics, I still have friends who are members of Courage, and I still struggle with feelings of failure and the pain of being judged and disconnected from various friends as they realize that I'm not coming back to the fold.
That being said, I don't want to be depressing, and one of my next posts will likely be about going to PRIDE as I was recently blessed to attend a Pride celebration in a neighboring town. I am trying to keep a balance between fluff and depth, and between the joy of coming out and the pain of leaving the ex-gay movement.
I've had people attempt to "remind" me, since I publicly came out as leaving Courage, that Courage does not advocate (at least not publicly) conversion therapy but rather advocates a 12 Step approach to celibacy. Yet all the while I was a part of Courage, and these individuals also, none of us were surprised to be reading about various conversion therapies that were encouraged, and every single one of us was praying that we would experience a cure.
I'm going to attempt to break it down so it makes sense.
If we agree with the Catholic Church that homosexuality is "intrinsically disordered" and all homosexual activities are therefor sinful, or if we decide that homosexuality is similar to an addiction or an illness, then how does it make sense for us to not seek to "cure" homosexuality?
So you see the problem. These programs, programs like Courage, claim that homosexuality is intrinsically disordered. They then claim that they don't seek a cure or engage in conversion therapy, that they just use 12 Steps to help people refrain from sexual activity.
But for the entire time I was a member of Courage, I never met another Courage member who wasn't also reading some other ex-gay literature on the side, or going to counseling with the goal of converting their sexuality, or attempting in some other way to change their orientation. All of us were hoping for a miracle, because no one wants to be ill forever and we all viewed our sexuality as an illness. As something wrong.
If, however, we agree that it is wrong to attempt to convert or change one's sexual orientation, then we are by definition agreeing that there is nothing wrong with the varying sexual orientations that exist. Because if there was something wrong, we would seek to correct it.
There is so much more that I still want to talk about and that I am still working on figuring out. I don't think that so many years of struggling to "fix" my sexuality is something that I can properly explain or heal from in a period of six months - and it has been six months now, since I quit Courage. I feel like I am only beginning to unravel some of the falsehoods I believed, some of the feelings and thoughts that drove me into the arms of the ex-gay movement, some of the fears. I also feel like everyone around me expects me to just be okay now, or to just move on with life like none of these past years ever happened.
But I can't do that. It takes time to work through these questions, and a million "ah ha" moments when things click into place. I still have friends who are priests and religious sisters and conservative Catholics, I still have friends who are members of Courage, and I still struggle with feelings of failure and the pain of being judged and disconnected from various friends as they realize that I'm not coming back to the fold.
That being said, I don't want to be depressing, and one of my next posts will likely be about going to PRIDE as I was recently blessed to attend a Pride celebration in a neighboring town. I am trying to keep a balance between fluff and depth, and between the joy of coming out and the pain of leaving the ex-gay movement.
Monday 7 May 2012
Sexual Orientation vs Sexual Addiction
I used to get annoyed at how these twelve steps and five goals came up at every (online) Courage meeting, because I was really struggling to see how they intersected with my life.
Courage takes its Twelve Steps straight from AA. Now, don't get me wrong - these 12 steps work to help people with drug and alcohol addictions overcome those addictions, and that is a wonderful thing. But homosexuality is not an addiction - I realize now, using the twelve steps to try to escape homosexuality is like using the twelve steps to try to escape the fact that your hair grows in mouse brown. It just isn't going to work.
I mean, all I have to do is look at the first step - homosexuality has taken over my life? Excuse me? All that has taken over my life is my attempts to avoid ever identifying as a lesbian!!! "No." I would say, "I'm not a lesbian. I'm a woman who struggles with same-sex attraction. It's like any other addiction."
But is homosexuality really an addiction?
Consider the fact that I am a virgin - I've only ever gone as far as kissing, and all of those kisses save one were with guys.
Despite those kisses, I've never been attracted to guys. I've never actually enjoyed a kiss, unless you count the one kiss I exchanged with an incredibly beautiful young woman years ago.
So, let me ask you, how many alcoholics are there out there who have never, not even once, tasted alcohol? How many heroine addicts are there who have never tried heroine? How many self-injurers are there out there who have never self-injured?
Yes, sometimes I think about kissing a woman that I find attractive. Sometimes I even think about making love to a beautiful woman. Sometimes I wake up from those dreams that leave me aching, physically aching, longing to touch and be touched by a woman. What lesbian doesn't?
Now, some will attempt to say that it's in the thinking about it - the fact that I am drawn to women and have those thoughts at all - that indicate an addiction, a powerlessness that needs to be addressed.
But let me ask you - what straight woman doesn't think, sometimes, about kissing a man she finds attractive? What straight woman never thinks about making love to a man? What straight woman never has a dream that leaves her longing for intimacy with a man? And do we accuse her of being addicted to straight sex, simply because there are times when she wants it?
Isn't that a normal part of our sexuality - be we hetero, homo, or bi sexual - to sometimes want the form of sexual contact to which we are naturally attracted?
Now I'm not denying that some individuals may become addicted to sexual activity - sexual addictions do exist. But a sexual orientation is not the same thing as a sexual addiction, not at all. I don't think about sex all the time, or even most of the time. I don't want to have sex with every woman I see (I mean, for starters, I think that would be exhausting, don't you?), or even with all of the women that I find attractive.
All I want, like any other person, is to be allowed to pursue the occasional fulfilling and romantic relationships. To seek my soul mate, my spouse, my other half.
And yes, I do have a strong suspicion that my other half is a woman. I'll bet she's beautiful, too.
Courage takes its Twelve Steps straight from AA. Now, don't get me wrong - these 12 steps work to help people with drug and alcohol addictions overcome those addictions, and that is a wonderful thing. But homosexuality is not an addiction - I realize now, using the twelve steps to try to escape homosexuality is like using the twelve steps to try to escape the fact that your hair grows in mouse brown. It just isn't going to work.
I mean, all I have to do is look at the first step - homosexuality has taken over my life? Excuse me? All that has taken over my life is my attempts to avoid ever identifying as a lesbian!!! "No." I would say, "I'm not a lesbian. I'm a woman who struggles with same-sex attraction. It's like any other addiction."
But is homosexuality really an addiction?
Consider the fact that I am a virgin - I've only ever gone as far as kissing, and all of those kisses save one were with guys.
Despite those kisses, I've never been attracted to guys. I've never actually enjoyed a kiss, unless you count the one kiss I exchanged with an incredibly beautiful young woman years ago.
So, let me ask you, how many alcoholics are there out there who have never, not even once, tasted alcohol? How many heroine addicts are there who have never tried heroine? How many self-injurers are there out there who have never self-injured?
Yes, sometimes I think about kissing a woman that I find attractive. Sometimes I even think about making love to a beautiful woman. Sometimes I wake up from those dreams that leave me aching, physically aching, longing to touch and be touched by a woman. What lesbian doesn't?
Now, some will attempt to say that it's in the thinking about it - the fact that I am drawn to women and have those thoughts at all - that indicate an addiction, a powerlessness that needs to be addressed.
But let me ask you - what straight woman doesn't think, sometimes, about kissing a man she finds attractive? What straight woman never thinks about making love to a man? What straight woman never has a dream that leaves her longing for intimacy with a man? And do we accuse her of being addicted to straight sex, simply because there are times when she wants it?
Isn't that a normal part of our sexuality - be we hetero, homo, or bi sexual - to sometimes want the form of sexual contact to which we are naturally attracted?
Now I'm not denying that some individuals may become addicted to sexual activity - sexual addictions do exist. But a sexual orientation is not the same thing as a sexual addiction, not at all. I don't think about sex all the time, or even most of the time. I don't want to have sex with every woman I see (I mean, for starters, I think that would be exhausting, don't you?), or even with all of the women that I find attractive.
All I want, like any other person, is to be allowed to pursue the occasional fulfilling and romantic relationships. To seek my soul mate, my spouse, my other half.
And yes, I do have a strong suspicion that my other half is a woman. I'll bet she's beautiful, too.
Tuesday 1 May 2012
Why DO we Crucify Ourselves?
I used this picture for something else artsy in my hometown (so if you are from the same place I am, perhaps you will recognize this picture), something that didn't have to be signed. I'm glad that it got out there a little bit because even though it's not well-painted, and despite the fact that I am not brave enough to claim it as mine, it means something to me that I painted this image.
Painting it was the first time I really gave expression to how I felt as a member of Courage. That pain spent so long locked up inside of me, and when I painted this picture it was almost compulsive - I had to paint it, all I had was a visual image of how to express what I was feeling.
At that time, words were not and could not be enough. I felt like, just by painting this image - even though I tucked it away in my prayer space, even though I've never really shown it off - somehow, by expressing it, it lessened my pain just a little.
See, in order to crucify my sexuality, I had to crucify my heart also. I've often prayed to God, begging Him to take my heart down from the cross.
I mean, didn't His Son come to be crucified, so that we wouldn't have to be crucified?
It seems to me now, that as long as I was trying to crucify my sexuality, God couldn't take my heart down from that cross, because I was the one driving the nails in, I was the one holding myself there. Our sexuality is one of the vehicles through which we express human love, love which belongs to the heart.
So as long as I was determined to crucify a part of my heart, my whole heart was stuck there, and slowly dying on that cross along with my sexuality was the rest of my emotional being.
It makes me think of a Tori Amos song I like, so I'll end this posting with that song:
Sunday 15 April 2012
Divine Mercy Sunday
It's the Catholics who don't say dumb things, the ones who aren't so obviously homophobic, that I have to watch for. The ones who keep reminding me that it's not a sin unless I ever act out on it. The ones who tell me they are praying for me, and encourage me to read various authors who have also experienced what I am experiencing now.
But maybe they're right. Maybe if I read one more book, or try one more prayer, one more novena ... maybe if enough people pray this one with me, if I shed enough tears while I'm praying, if I'm desperate enough or if I believe enough, it'll work this time?
The really pathetic part is that I actually mean that right now. I spent this afternoon at a deanery-wide celebration for Divine Mercy Sunday.
Starting Good Friday, every day until the Sunday following Easter Sunday, we pray a chaplet of Divine Mercy. The Sunday following Easter Sunday, the last day of the novena, is called Divine Mercy Sunday. We gather together, pray the chaplet in community, confessions are heard, and afterwards usually people socialize.
So I went to confession. I felt like I was betraying myself, when I said that I might be at least sorry that I wasn't sorry. I realized immediately afterward, that what I had just agreed to really made no sense at all... either I am sorry or I am not, but now, I don't know which it is.
I also spoke to a friend of mine who is a priest. I've agreed to pray another novena, but this time I don't really know what I'm praying for. A sign, maybe? What am I supposed to do, to feel, right now?
If my new attempt at self-acceptance is so weak that two hours spent around the right kind of Catholic can undo it all, how strong am I really? Am I really on my own side, or not?
If I was at Madonna House, or OLSWA, or in any one of the convents I've visited, would this even be an issue? If I went to Madonna House, or to OLSWA, if I surrounded myself with strong Catholics like the ones I was around today... the kind who pray all day every day, like we did when I was at OLSWA, would I maybe not even care about same sex attraction anymore?
No, that can't be completely right. I remember being very frustrated when I was at school, because I kept feeling strongly attracted to some of the girls in my dorm, and it was awkward. I mean, how could I ask the other girls in my house to dress more modestly even if there's no boys around, because otherwise it's more tempting and confusing for me?
I don't think I can properly express the turmoil that is inside of me at this moment.
I wonder how normal it is to backtrack, to feel doubt, or to just feel paralyzed because I really don't want to move one way or the other... I think, even from reading this post, it seems obvious that I am leaning more towards embracing my sexuality than towards continued denial... except that it terrifies me to consider not being found in the very center, in the heart, of the Church.
I wonder how I would feel if I spent a few weeks away from all the external pressures, with just time to myself to think and to examine my feelings... wow I wish such a thing were possible right now.
But maybe they're right. Maybe if I read one more book, or try one more prayer, one more novena ... maybe if enough people pray this one with me, if I shed enough tears while I'm praying, if I'm desperate enough or if I believe enough, it'll work this time?
The really pathetic part is that I actually mean that right now. I spent this afternoon at a deanery-wide celebration for Divine Mercy Sunday.
Starting Good Friday, every day until the Sunday following Easter Sunday, we pray a chaplet of Divine Mercy. The Sunday following Easter Sunday, the last day of the novena, is called Divine Mercy Sunday. We gather together, pray the chaplet in community, confessions are heard, and afterwards usually people socialize.
So I went to confession. I felt like I was betraying myself, when I said that I might be at least sorry that I wasn't sorry. I realized immediately afterward, that what I had just agreed to really made no sense at all... either I am sorry or I am not, but now, I don't know which it is.
I also spoke to a friend of mine who is a priest. I've agreed to pray another novena, but this time I don't really know what I'm praying for. A sign, maybe? What am I supposed to do, to feel, right now?
If my new attempt at self-acceptance is so weak that two hours spent around the right kind of Catholic can undo it all, how strong am I really? Am I really on my own side, or not?
If I was at Madonna House, or OLSWA, or in any one of the convents I've visited, would this even be an issue? If I went to Madonna House, or to OLSWA, if I surrounded myself with strong Catholics like the ones I was around today... the kind who pray all day every day, like we did when I was at OLSWA, would I maybe not even care about same sex attraction anymore?
No, that can't be completely right. I remember being very frustrated when I was at school, because I kept feeling strongly attracted to some of the girls in my dorm, and it was awkward. I mean, how could I ask the other girls in my house to dress more modestly even if there's no boys around, because otherwise it's more tempting and confusing for me?
I don't think I can properly express the turmoil that is inside of me at this moment.
I wonder how normal it is to backtrack, to feel doubt, or to just feel paralyzed because I really don't want to move one way or the other... I think, even from reading this post, it seems obvious that I am leaning more towards embracing my sexuality than towards continued denial... except that it terrifies me to consider not being found in the very center, in the heart, of the Church.
I wonder how I would feel if I spent a few weeks away from all the external pressures, with just time to myself to think and to examine my feelings... wow I wish such a thing were possible right now.
Saturday 14 April 2012
Lately, I've been exploring LGBTQ culture.
I've watched about six movies, and enjoyed all of them. My favourite so far would have to be either "Loving Annabelle" or "Better Than Chocolate". But if you're looking for something light and humorous, I'd suggest "But I'm A Cheerleader", and if you're looking for something that will make you cry, I'd suggest "Prayers for Bobby".
I've listened to a LOT of songs, and I have a new favourite artist, with a new favourite song:
There's something to be said for celebrating each part of who we are through music, movies, books, art... I have to say, though I mostly just enjoy normal Canadian culture, whatever that is... and though I definitely do not define myself entirely by my sexuality... well, it is an important part of what defines me, and I have enjoyed exploring that aspect of my identity recently.
It's especially nice to listen to uplifting LGBTQ music, to watch movies and read books that portray LGBTQ persons in a positive light. It's nice to see role models in the artists, to see myself in some of the characters, to watch a romantic comedy and not just be reminded that romance can have a happy ending, but a lesbian romance specifically can have that perfect ending, too.
I've had some major struggles this week, but I wanted to focus on the positive in this post. I have really wanted to post a Jen Foster song on my FB profile, but I'm still half-closeted, so I am compensating by posting a link to one of her songs here. Another good song of her's is In Between Poses:
There'll be later posts for me to discuss how Easter went, how my second PFLAG meeting went, how it went coming out to various friends and family members and how certain individuals have reacted to my quitting Courage. For now, I hope you'll just enjoy the positives of LGBTQ culture with me, something to which I have too long been blind.
I've watched about six movies, and enjoyed all of them. My favourite so far would have to be either "Loving Annabelle" or "Better Than Chocolate". But if you're looking for something light and humorous, I'd suggest "But I'm A Cheerleader", and if you're looking for something that will make you cry, I'd suggest "Prayers for Bobby".
I've listened to a LOT of songs, and I have a new favourite artist, with a new favourite song:
There's something to be said for celebrating each part of who we are through music, movies, books, art... I have to say, though I mostly just enjoy normal Canadian culture, whatever that is... and though I definitely do not define myself entirely by my sexuality... well, it is an important part of what defines me, and I have enjoyed exploring that aspect of my identity recently.
It's especially nice to listen to uplifting LGBTQ music, to watch movies and read books that portray LGBTQ persons in a positive light. It's nice to see role models in the artists, to see myself in some of the characters, to watch a romantic comedy and not just be reminded that romance can have a happy ending, but a lesbian romance specifically can have that perfect ending, too.
I've had some major struggles this week, but I wanted to focus on the positive in this post. I have really wanted to post a Jen Foster song on my FB profile, but I'm still half-closeted, so I am compensating by posting a link to one of her songs here. Another good song of her's is In Between Poses:
There'll be later posts for me to discuss how Easter went, how my second PFLAG meeting went, how it went coming out to various friends and family members and how certain individuals have reacted to my quitting Courage. For now, I hope you'll just enjoy the positives of LGBTQ culture with me, something to which I have too long been blind.
Thursday 5 April 2012
my experience, my grandmother, my fears
I was 13, lounging on my dad's green sofa, phone to my ear. My friend was on the other line, and we were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
"ooooh, Angel is so hot." she moaned. "Don't you think he's hot?"
"Yeah, he's definitely hot." I agreed. But I was thinking, How can you look at Angel when Willow is on the same screen? Look at her smile, her eyes, her long red hair... she is perfect. But I didn't say anything, as I was pretty sure that she'd find my thoughts discomfiting at best.
Grade nine came, and I was starting to wonder if I was gay. I was also a burgeoning social activist, so I talked a friend of mine into attending the local Gay Pride Parade with me near the end of that year. At the parade, photographs were taken.
I spoke with my favorite grandmother that night on msn. I told her I'd been to the gay pride parade that day, as an ally to my friends. She responded by saying that I would go to hell if I was friends with "those people".
Later, when my picture turned up in the paper, the whole school became awkward around me until I assured them that I was just an ally, not really one of "them". I knew by then, I could never admit to being one of "those people" because if I was, then what would my grandmother do? What would my classmates do?
I heard a story from my brother that year, about a guy who came out to his parents. I had always been impressed with this particular young man's family, with how close knit and loving they appeared. The night he came out to his parents, however, they told him that they didn't know him and that they didn't have a son anymore. They told him that they didn't love him, and threw him out of the house.
Grade 10 came, and I made friends with a young man who was very much out of the closet. He is one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, and also one of the bravest. I know he was harassed at school, the other kids could be so cruel towards him, it was unreal.
I don't think I ever made a conscious decision to stay closeted. At least, I wasn't aware of making the decision. I was pretty willing to appear to be the most liberal chick out there. But I never wanted anyone to think that *I* was gay.
I pretended to be interested when my girlfriends sent me nude or near-nude pictures of male actors. I never admitted that I was jealous when two of my friends started dating, never admitted that my hopes went soaring when they broke up later and she suggested that she might be bisexual.
But I did know that I could not be homosexual. I mean, I was as much a lesbian then as I am now - so very much one - but look at what it would cost me! What it could cost me. I could drop even lower on the high school social totem pole. I could lose the love of my family. Most importantly I knew that my grandmother would not accept or love me anymore.
It is all so much more complex than what I am describing. But these things were a huge part of my decision, later, to embrace a Church that promised to change me, to heal me of my gayness. To make me straight. I would have traded all the blood in my veins if I could just be straight. To trade my integrity, my peace, when I was so unhappy - it was easy.
Here, take my integrity. I don't need to be honest. I just need to be straight. I'm already unloveable enough, my own mother stopped loving me (another story for a later post) - I don't need another strike against me. Being a lesbian would definitely equal that strike.
My grandmother is coming to visit, all the way from the UK, for this Easter. I just found out today, she'll be here early next week. She's frail, elderly, and still one of the most important people to my mind. I love her. She taught me how to pray.
I wonder if I'll find the courage to tell her, how her words when I was 13 hurt me. I wonder if I need to tell her. I wonder if I should tell her that I'm one of "those people", that I have never been physically attracted towards a man but that I have very vivid dreams and fantasies about other women all the time, no matter how hard I try not to. I wonder if she would even remember what she typed to me in that msn conversation all those years ago. I wonder if she would forgive me for being a lesbian, or if the stress of finding out would give her a stroke or heart attack.
How can I tell her? How can I not? I don't know what I'll do.
"ooooh, Angel is so hot." she moaned. "Don't you think he's hot?"
"Yeah, he's definitely hot." I agreed. But I was thinking, How can you look at Angel when Willow is on the same screen? Look at her smile, her eyes, her long red hair... she is perfect. But I didn't say anything, as I was pretty sure that she'd find my thoughts discomfiting at best.
Grade nine came, and I was starting to wonder if I was gay. I was also a burgeoning social activist, so I talked a friend of mine into attending the local Gay Pride Parade with me near the end of that year. At the parade, photographs were taken.
I spoke with my favorite grandmother that night on msn. I told her I'd been to the gay pride parade that day, as an ally to my friends. She responded by saying that I would go to hell if I was friends with "those people".
Later, when my picture turned up in the paper, the whole school became awkward around me until I assured them that I was just an ally, not really one of "them". I knew by then, I could never admit to being one of "those people" because if I was, then what would my grandmother do? What would my classmates do?
I heard a story from my brother that year, about a guy who came out to his parents. I had always been impressed with this particular young man's family, with how close knit and loving they appeared. The night he came out to his parents, however, they told him that they didn't know him and that they didn't have a son anymore. They told him that they didn't love him, and threw him out of the house.
Grade 10 came, and I made friends with a young man who was very much out of the closet. He is one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, and also one of the bravest. I know he was harassed at school, the other kids could be so cruel towards him, it was unreal.
I don't think I ever made a conscious decision to stay closeted. At least, I wasn't aware of making the decision. I was pretty willing to appear to be the most liberal chick out there. But I never wanted anyone to think that *I* was gay.
I pretended to be interested when my girlfriends sent me nude or near-nude pictures of male actors. I never admitted that I was jealous when two of my friends started dating, never admitted that my hopes went soaring when they broke up later and she suggested that she might be bisexual.
But I did know that I could not be homosexual. I mean, I was as much a lesbian then as I am now - so very much one - but look at what it would cost me! What it could cost me. I could drop even lower on the high school social totem pole. I could lose the love of my family. Most importantly I knew that my grandmother would not accept or love me anymore.
It is all so much more complex than what I am describing. But these things were a huge part of my decision, later, to embrace a Church that promised to change me, to heal me of my gayness. To make me straight. I would have traded all the blood in my veins if I could just be straight. To trade my integrity, my peace, when I was so unhappy - it was easy.
Here, take my integrity. I don't need to be honest. I just need to be straight. I'm already unloveable enough, my own mother stopped loving me (another story for a later post) - I don't need another strike against me. Being a lesbian would definitely equal that strike.
My grandmother is coming to visit, all the way from the UK, for this Easter. I just found out today, she'll be here early next week. She's frail, elderly, and still one of the most important people to my mind. I love her. She taught me how to pray.
I wonder if I'll find the courage to tell her, how her words when I was 13 hurt me. I wonder if I need to tell her. I wonder if I should tell her that I'm one of "those people", that I have never been physically attracted towards a man but that I have very vivid dreams and fantasies about other women all the time, no matter how hard I try not to. I wonder if she would even remember what she typed to me in that msn conversation all those years ago. I wonder if she would forgive me for being a lesbian, or if the stress of finding out would give her a stroke or heart attack.
How can I tell her? How can I not? I don't know what I'll do.
Sunday 25 March 2012
Reconciliation
I used to love Confession. It is terrifying, when you
begin, to tell to this priest - this man - an accounting of your
misdeeds and shortcomings. But I've always found that once I've
gotten started, it is so comforting to be able to lay bare all of the
things I hate most about myself and find that I am still forgiven.
I've never had a priest withhold absolution.
During my "perfect Catholic girl" days, I would go to Confession sometimes twice a month and never less frequently than once every six weeks. Often I would sense that a burden was being lifted through this Sacrament.
But now, December was the last time I had been to this Sacrament. It's March, the season of Lent, and the usual push to confess is being meted out to all Catholics.
See, I have been feeling unsure if I should go to Confession or not. I know that the Church teaches that homosexuality is "intrinsically disordered" and I know that the Church teaches that it is a grave sin to act on homosexual inclinations.
Yet here I am, having just begun to accept that one day I will probably act on my own homosexual inclinations. After all, I've never really experienced heterosexual inclinations, and like it or not - deny it, accept it, ignore or embrace it - I am still sexual in my nature. I am so very tired of denying and trying to ignore my nature.
I've been questioning for a lot longer than I've let on, if this long painful road I've just stepped off of was really what God wanted for me. I've started to wonder, if maybe the reason that the Church can't find an effective way to fix me is because I'm not broken to begin with.
But with such a revelation, there is not only new hope for life, for future happiness, for love. There is also the shattering of my faith as I have known it. There is a need to accept that, should such a creature exist, I cannot be the perfect Catholic.
I did go to Confession on Wednesday. But I felt no lifting of my burdens this time, no breath of relief as Father prayed the words of absolution over me. Because in reality, the problem that I am experiencing has nothing to do with a need for reconciliation with my Church or with God.
The real need that I have is for my sexuality and my spirituality to become reconciled within my own heart. This is the reconciliation, the absolution, that I am most desiring this Lent: the Sacrament of self-acceptance.
During my "perfect Catholic girl" days, I would go to Confession sometimes twice a month and never less frequently than once every six weeks. Often I would sense that a burden was being lifted through this Sacrament.
But now, December was the last time I had been to this Sacrament. It's March, the season of Lent, and the usual push to confess is being meted out to all Catholics.
See, I have been feeling unsure if I should go to Confession or not. I know that the Church teaches that homosexuality is "intrinsically disordered" and I know that the Church teaches that it is a grave sin to act on homosexual inclinations.
Yet here I am, having just begun to accept that one day I will probably act on my own homosexual inclinations. After all, I've never really experienced heterosexual inclinations, and like it or not - deny it, accept it, ignore or embrace it - I am still sexual in my nature. I am so very tired of denying and trying to ignore my nature.
I've been questioning for a lot longer than I've let on, if this long painful road I've just stepped off of was really what God wanted for me. I've started to wonder, if maybe the reason that the Church can't find an effective way to fix me is because I'm not broken to begin with.
But with such a revelation, there is not only new hope for life, for future happiness, for love. There is also the shattering of my faith as I have known it. There is a need to accept that, should such a creature exist, I cannot be the perfect Catholic.
I did go to Confession on Wednesday. But I felt no lifting of my burdens this time, no breath of relief as Father prayed the words of absolution over me. Because in reality, the problem that I am experiencing has nothing to do with a need for reconciliation with my Church or with God.
The real need that I have is for my sexuality and my spirituality to become reconciled within my own heart. This is the reconciliation, the absolution, that I am most desiring this Lent: the Sacrament of self-acceptance.
Wednesday 14 March 2012
God, I'm Sorry
I went for coffee with one of my friends today. Someone who has been there for me since I began my journey to become Catholic. Someone I trust and respect a lot. Someone I tell everything to whenever we get together.
So naturally I told her that I'm quitting Courage. That I've gone to a PFLAG meeting and am excited about going to college in May so that I can hopefully be a part of an LGBTQ group that might be starting there.
She said, "So are you one of those people who just picks and chooses what they like from the Church now?"
I didn't know what to say. She also said she hopes I don't adopt children, because children need a father.
God, I know she meant well. She wasn't trying to hurt me or anything. But her words hurt so damn much.
I understand, though, where she's coming from. I used to the think the same way. It's a struggle for me to not just slip back into that line of thinking. The Church hasn't changed in 2000 years, so it must be right. Well, the length of time we hold onto certain thinking or ideaology doesn't necessarily mandate that those thoughts are correct.
I think I've said similar things, not directly or personally to my individual friends, but in general. On my Facebook page, where I've jumped into debates simply to prove that my thinking is perfectly in line with Church teaching.
I'm filled with remorse right now, thinking I may have hurt my friends and other people who were reading, hurt them deeply, hurt them like I am hurting right now. Maybe I deserve this pain that I'm feeling - maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe it's worse for me because I still half-believe what she's saying, though I won't go back to how I was living when I was following Courage.
I wish I were brave enough to say I'm sorry directly on my Facebook wall. I really need to apologize. But right now, first, I need to heal from the pain I've caused myself, from the pain I'm feeling now, and then when I am stronger... when one person will no longer be able to shoot me down so easily... until then, this anonymous apology is all I can offer. But one day I will be strong enough to claim my authenticity back. I'm already on the journey.
So naturally I told her that I'm quitting Courage. That I've gone to a PFLAG meeting and am excited about going to college in May so that I can hopefully be a part of an LGBTQ group that might be starting there.
She said, "So are you one of those people who just picks and chooses what they like from the Church now?"
I didn't know what to say. She also said she hopes I don't adopt children, because children need a father.
God, I know she meant well. She wasn't trying to hurt me or anything. But her words hurt so damn much.
I understand, though, where she's coming from. I used to the think the same way. It's a struggle for me to not just slip back into that line of thinking. The Church hasn't changed in 2000 years, so it must be right. Well, the length of time we hold onto certain thinking or ideaology doesn't necessarily mandate that those thoughts are correct.
I think I've said similar things, not directly or personally to my individual friends, but in general. On my Facebook page, where I've jumped into debates simply to prove that my thinking is perfectly in line with Church teaching.
I'm filled with remorse right now, thinking I may have hurt my friends and other people who were reading, hurt them deeply, hurt them like I am hurting right now. Maybe I deserve this pain that I'm feeling - maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe it's worse for me because I still half-believe what she's saying, though I won't go back to how I was living when I was following Courage.
I wish I were brave enough to say I'm sorry directly on my Facebook wall. I really need to apologize. But right now, first, I need to heal from the pain I've caused myself, from the pain I'm feeling now, and then when I am stronger... when one person will no longer be able to shoot me down so easily... until then, this anonymous apology is all I can offer. But one day I will be strong enough to claim my authenticity back. I'm already on the journey.
Monday 12 March 2012
The Scourging At The Pillar Wasn't My Fault
WARNING: the link goes to a video that shows the scourging at the pillar. Youtube has deemed it rated content, if you are too young then don't try to view it, and if you are sensitive, be warned that it is very graphic. I posted it because that's the EXACT sound that I hear.
I know my previous two posts really seem like a lot of fluff - talking about a crush - but they're not, not for me.
At the suggestion of one of my ex-gay friends, I trained myself so that every time I was tempted to think a vaguely sexual thought, every time I got close to allowing myself to think about a crush that I had, I would hear the sound of the scourging at the pillar. I would hear that sound in my head, and I would tell myself that it was my fault, because I had learned from reading about St. Faustina that the scourging at the pillar happened to atone for our sins of impurity.
At that time, I had perceived that thinking about someone in that way, having a crush, thinking another woman is beautiful and wanting to kiss her, was my sin of impurity.
So to allow myself to even think about the fact that I have a crush on someone, to describe how beautiful she is, to admit that I want to kiss her, that for me is a step towards facing my shame and overcoming it.
To be very clear: my identity as a Catholic is important to me. I don't blame the Church for my ex-gay experience; while her teachings certainly helped me to gain that experience, I would never have gone there if I hadn't been looking for someone to confirm me in my shame.
I just want to explain to any potential readers, the why behind what appears as fluff. It's because it's a challenge for me to write it and not hate myself for writing it. It's because writing it is part of how I can start to undo some of the damage I did to myself, because now when I hear that sound of the whip hitting Jesus, I have to remind myself that it's not my fault that they did that to him, that this crush that I have and my admitting to it is not the reason for the scourging.
Unrequited Confession
it's in her feet - small, perfectly formed,
strapped in black sandals, swaddled in thin
nylons.... I want to touch her feet, to know
if they are as soft as they look.
Even if they are callused, I'd love
to touch them.
it's in her eyes when she smiles - so bright
they warm me to my core. I want to see her smile at me,
to see her blue green eyes shining on me,
her lips turned up as light pours through
and her smile makes life suddenly worth it.
it's in her laugh - I could listen to her laugh all day.
it's not like a child's laugh that makes you laugh too,
her laugh is like the wind singing,
pouring breath and music into the soul.
it's in the shape of her, how she is not too thin, but curves exactly right,
how she carries herself like nothing is going to bring her down -
it's in her voice when she's singing. I want to listen even more
than I want to sing myself.
it's in everything about her, though I know she'll never feel the same.
I'll never tell her how I want to bask in her presence
as if she were my messiah...
how every week that passes when I don't see her feels too long.
as I fall, I berate myself for the foolishness of my love for her. I know
as a Catholic girl, I should not want her the way that I do.
yet despite myself and all I hold dear, I hold her even more dear.
I know this part of me that wants more of her
is going to live inside of me forever.
strapped in black sandals, swaddled in thin
nylons.... I want to touch her feet, to know
if they are as soft as they look.
Even if they are callused, I'd love
to touch them.
it's in her eyes when she smiles - so bright
they warm me to my core. I want to see her smile at me,
to see her blue green eyes shining on me,
her lips turned up as light pours through
and her smile makes life suddenly worth it.
it's in her laugh - I could listen to her laugh all day.
it's not like a child's laugh that makes you laugh too,
her laugh is like the wind singing,
pouring breath and music into the soul.
it's in the shape of her, how she is not too thin, but curves exactly right,
how she carries herself like nothing is going to bring her down -
it's in her voice when she's singing. I want to listen even more
than I want to sing myself.
it's in everything about her, though I know she'll never feel the same.
I'll never tell her how I want to bask in her presence
as if she were my messiah...
how every week that passes when I don't see her feels too long.
as I fall, I berate myself for the foolishness of my love for her. I know
as a Catholic girl, I should not want her the way that I do.
yet despite myself and all I hold dear, I hold her even more dear.
I know this part of me that wants more of her
is going to live inside of me forever.
Sunday 11 March 2012
My Secret Crush
I have this friend at my parish who is a truly beautiful woman; I have had a crush on her for the longest time. I don't know how old she is, but I know she's at least a decade older than me. Her hair isn't grey or anything, she doesn't look old. She never says how old she is.
I know she's single, never married and she doesn't seem to plan on marrying. I think she is straight, so I know my crush on her will never amount to anything. I worry that if she knew how attractive I find her, she would be freaked out. That doesn't stop me from wanting to be around her as much as possible, and from wanting to do nice things for her just so I can see her smile at me.
It's hard to miss that she is attractive - I've thought she is physically attractive since the first time I laid eyes on her. It's difficult for me, because she is wonderful to look at, but I try not to stare - I don't want to make her uncomfortable. Maintaining eye contact is dangerous, because I could lose myself in her eyes. Looking into her eyes, you can see everything she is feeling and so much depth just flowing through - it's like reading an intricately written piece of music, there's always something you miss because there is so much going by so fast, yet what you do see makes you love its entirety.
I also like to look at her shape - everything about her is exactly right - I even like looking at her feet. Of course, I try not to, because if she caught me staring it might make her uncomfortable
As I have gotten to know her better, she has become the one person I trust the absolute most in my life. I look up to her for so many reasons. I know I can tell her anything (except that I have this HUGE crush on her), and she would still be there for me. I know because I've already told her a lot of things about me, I've gone to her for help many times as I've struggled with my mental health over the past few years.
Her friendship is invaluable to me; my greatest fear is losing her friendship, my greatest secret desire is for her to love me like I love her, my greatest happiness is that even if she doesn't love me in that way, she still does love me as a friend. And no one could find a better friend than her.
I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her. I wish there were a way to find out without revealing to her how much I'm in love with her, except that I think if I kissed her I would naturally end up wanting more. I'd like to hold her, and be held by her.
I wrote a poem for her. I will post it in a later update, once I'm done editing it. It is a poem I will only ever consider putting out under this pen name, because I would worry otherwise that she might figure out that it is about her.
I know she's single, never married and she doesn't seem to plan on marrying. I think she is straight, so I know my crush on her will never amount to anything. I worry that if she knew how attractive I find her, she would be freaked out. That doesn't stop me from wanting to be around her as much as possible, and from wanting to do nice things for her just so I can see her smile at me.
It's hard to miss that she is attractive - I've thought she is physically attractive since the first time I laid eyes on her. It's difficult for me, because she is wonderful to look at, but I try not to stare - I don't want to make her uncomfortable. Maintaining eye contact is dangerous, because I could lose myself in her eyes. Looking into her eyes, you can see everything she is feeling and so much depth just flowing through - it's like reading an intricately written piece of music, there's always something you miss because there is so much going by so fast, yet what you do see makes you love its entirety.
I also like to look at her shape - everything about her is exactly right - I even like looking at her feet. Of course, I try not to, because if she caught me staring it might make her uncomfortable
As I have gotten to know her better, she has become the one person I trust the absolute most in my life. I look up to her for so many reasons. I know I can tell her anything (except that I have this HUGE crush on her), and she would still be there for me. I know because I've already told her a lot of things about me, I've gone to her for help many times as I've struggled with my mental health over the past few years.
Her friendship is invaluable to me; my greatest fear is losing her friendship, my greatest secret desire is for her to love me like I love her, my greatest happiness is that even if she doesn't love me in that way, she still does love me as a friend. And no one could find a better friend than her.
I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her. I wish there were a way to find out without revealing to her how much I'm in love with her, except that I think if I kissed her I would naturally end up wanting more. I'd like to hold her, and be held by her.
I wrote a poem for her. I will post it in a later update, once I'm done editing it. It is a poem I will only ever consider putting out under this pen name, because I would worry otherwise that she might figure out that it is about her.
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