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.

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.

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.