The Musings of a Confused Man

I feel strange tonight. To be honest, I'm having a hard time describing my mood and emotional state. I think that the best word for describing the underlying theme is melancholy. but it's a strange melancholy. I'm finding a certain comfort in it. It doesn't depress me, if that makes any sense.

There's also a strong sense of impermanence to it all. It's as if in my sadness, there's a deep knowledge that it will pass soon enough, departing to let my heart fill with light and joy. This knowledge lets me find comfort in my temporary darkness, wrapping it around me gently like a warm blanket as I wait "sunnier" times.

It's not like I'm totally devoid of joy, anyway. Evenin my morose state, I can see the myriad little bright spots. I can see where I have treated myself with more honor and respect than I have in the past. I know I have friends I can turn to when I need an ear, and have even dared to call on them to offer those very services. I am loved, and I know it. What is a little sadness in the face of that?

I'm not sure how many people read this blog any more. I know I've been silent for almost a month now. To be honest, I've logged in to write something several times since my last entry, but have never been able to get past the blank textbox.

This is one of those cases where many aspects of my life have caused me to turn inward, to work on projects and go through things that I'm not ready to post about yet. There's just so much going on that still needs to be worked out in the stillness of my own mind before broadcast to the world, and as such, I leave what readers I may have wondering what's going on.

What I can say is that my spiritual life is getting rather interesting right now. There are certain things that I need to work on and certain changes in my life that I'm making in order to prepare for the "next big step." At some point, I hope to talk about some of that. But for now, I must leave it at this simple teaser.

I'm also working on a writing project, which I have several guides telling me will eventually coalesce into a publishable book. However, I'm in the very early stages of that process. Currently, I'm at the point where the project involves me spending regular times with a separate journal (as opposed to my "everyday" one) and writing about past experiences, people, and choices that I can remember, and my emotional reactions to them. It's been both a rewarding and trying process, as not all of the memories or the realizations related to them are entirely comfortable. They're not exactly painful, either. But they take a bit of processing at times.

One of the interesting things is that as I continue with this project, I find myself remembering little things that I had completely forgotten about, things that I haven't thought about in a decade or more. That in itself can be a bit shocking. Of course, on the flip side, it's also nice to suddenly discover that I have more memories of my life before high school than I might've thought. They're just there waiting to be found.

Of course, a side effect of this process is that I find myself growing nostalgiac. I find myself wondering what ever happened to old friends, old school chums, and even an old lover or two. I find myself wondering what kind of people they are today. After all, it's been at least a decade since I've seen some of them.

You can't go home again. But at least you can visit. Even if only in your mind.

I've always hated making mistakes. In fact, the fact the ability and tendency to make mistakes is one of the few things that drive me batty about the human condition. Fortunately, I've slowly learned to accept that aspect of my own humanity, and I can usually avoid excessive self-flagellation when I goof up.

What still bothers me, however, is when I make a mistake, only to realize it's a mistake I've made in the past (or at least similar enough to one that I should've realized it was a mistake). It's one thing to make a mistake due to lack of experience. It's another thing to make a mistake despite experience. It's even worse when deep down, I know I made the mistake against my better judgement. I let other factors override my judgement, and that's a bitter pill to swallow.

It seems that some lessons need to be repeated. Hopefully, I do better on the next test.

In a previous post, I mentioned briefly that I was going on a coffee date. I haven't said much more about the experience, which was good, or the subsequent dates I had, which were also good. Originally, I didn't want to right much, as I felt it was more appropriate to see how things went before getting too talkative about it. And then as things progressed, I felt that I needed to spend some time with the young man I was dating talking about everything. It was important to talk to him long before I talked about him or our experiences together.

Unfortunately, things did not work out between us as I had originally hoped. This was particularly complicated by the fact that each of us made some rash choices about our time together, resulting in a lot of hurt for both of us. We've spent a fair amount of time over the past several days talking about what happened, how we each felt, and just life in general. The end result is that we've decided to just be friends, and I'm very hopeful we end up developing a strong, lasting friendship as a result.

As I sit here and think about the past week and the future, I find myself experiencing a myriad of emotions. I'd say that chief among those emotions is disappointment and a bit of longing. To be honest, making the choice of not pursuing the relationship in favor of developing a friendship was not an easy one to make. There's a part of me that longs for more, no matter how strongly I know that this is the right choice. Indeed, I found myself wondering how I'd feel when I saw him again. I found myself doubtful of whether I could spend time with him without it tearing me up inside.

I'm both pleased and relieved to say that those doubts were unfounded. Recently, I had the opportunity to spend four hours with him. And while I won't deny that there was the occasional pang during our time together, it was well worth it. Conversation simply flowed. Not the kind of superficial conversation that feels mechanical or forced, but deep and honest communication. We shared an openness with one another that was beautiful and precious. And I have to admit that I find myself looking forward to another experience like that.

As I've thought about our recent time together, I found myself asking the same question again and again: When did I get this strong? How did I get this strong? I remember being the person who would fall completely apart at the first sign of emotional let-down and take weeks, months, or even years to recover. And here I am today, fresh from a breakup, ready to take it all in stride. I'm even looking forward to a friendship, despite the fact that part of me would still like more than friendship. And ultimately, I don't feel it's that big of a deal. And in many ways, that truly astonishes me. Because I don't remember becoming the kind of person who could feel that way.

I think one of the truly frustrating things I've had to face over the past several days is the realization that as far as my journey of sexual self-discovery has come, I still have further to go. Worse, I've discovered that some of the lessons in that respect were not as well learned as I would like to think. I find myself looking at a refresher course.

One of the more painful lessons was that I need a certain amount of security and safety built up to truly express myself sexually and feel comfortable with sharing that part of myself with another person. This isn't exactly news to me, as I've always known it on one level or another. But the past several days have reinforced that truth, and reminded me of some of the costs that can result from allowing myself to ignore it. And while I certainly wouldn't change any of the mistakes I've made recently, I can honestly look at them and acknowledge them as mistakes.

As I sit here and think about this, I find myself considering the various reasons why I took things too fast. After all, there are more than one, each influencing my decision-making process. Some are quite simple, such as the fact that at the time, things just seemed to be too right not to make the choices I did. Then there's the fact that the past nine months have involved a process in which I've been rediscovering just what it means to me to be a sexual person -- the person that I am. So when the opportunity to explore that more experientially, it only made sense to do so.

But it also reminded me that I need to be the person I am -- even the sexual person I am -- on my terms. I need to first create an environment and a relationship in which I'm comfortable exploring. I forsook building up to that place of comfort and raced ahead because it seemed like the right thing to do. And as a result, I've been reminded of why I shouldn't do that.

Hopefully, I remember and exercise better judgement the next time I find myself faced with such choices.

The other evening, a friend and I got into a discussion about coming out. He remarked that he had met a number of older gay men who seemed to be of the opinion that coming out makes all of the struggles with one's gayness disappear, or at least become insignificant. He told me that this attitude bothered him, because he didn't feel that was the case at all. Listening to him, I found myself agreeing with his point of view wholeheartedly. Indeed, I found the claims made by these older gay men (and bear in mind that these "older men" actually fall in my age range) to be astonishing and completely unhelpful. I emphatically told my friend that I felt the attitude these men had expressed was complete garbage.

Now, don't get me wrong. I think there are a great number of benefits to coming out when a person is ready to do so. (I also think that coming out is a process that involves degrees and situations rather than an all or nothing thing, but that's probably best left for another post.) Coming out to myself, ending the denial, and allowing myself to be the person I knew was inside of me has been one of the greatest gifts I have ever given myself. And allowing myself to share that person with those people in my life that were important to me allowed me to save a lot of time and energy that I would have otherwise wasted by trying to hide who I am and worrying about what might happen if anyone ever found out my secret. And I suspect that my friend with whom I had this conversation would agree with everything I've just said.

But to say that all problems surrounding one's sexual orientation will fade away once one comes out just isn't realistic. In fact it's a lie, and one that could deeply hurt someone who doesn't feel this fictional release of all troubles upon coming out. And to me, spreading such a hurtful lie to another person is reprehensible.

Truth be told, as wonderful as the coming out process is, it's only the beginning of a larger process. And for many of us, that beginning is the equivalent of opening floodgates and letting out a whole world of hurt and confusion we need to deal with. I can look at my own coming out experience that took place almost eleven years ago and the rough road it started me down, and the very lie of these older men's claims makes me wince.

Coming out means coming to terms with who we are and allowing other people to see who we are. In many cases, the whole reason we need to come out is because we've been denying or repressing who we are -- often for years. That takes its toll on a person, and quite often, coming out also requires us to face the results of those years. It's one thing to accept who we are, but it's completely different thing to come to love who we are. Sometimes, it means rebuilding our self-perception from scratch. Sometimes, it means learning that we really are deserving of love. Sometimes, it means struggling to live in an adult world while having the emotional maturity of a young teenager. Sometimes, it means coming to terms with an unconscious mind that only found it possible to express your sexual feelings through violent dreams and fantasies. The list is potentially endless.

Perhaps some people really do have less emotional and identity issues to work through after coming out. Perhaps they never denied or repressed their feelings as totally as others of us. Or perhaps they really can heal instantly. But not all of us are like it. To us, facing and admitting our sexual orientation -- whether to ourselves or to others -- is merely the beginning of the next stage of a difficult journey, not the end of one.

Earlier tonight (before it became tomorrow), I took the time to write about the weekend I decided to come out and the emotional crisis that led up to it. It surprised me how easily much of the emotion I felt that weekend came back to me. In some ways, writing about it meant reliving it, and it was a strange experience.

Of course, this time around, the feelings weren't nearly as strong. Instead, they were more a ghost of events and feelings long gone. Back then, I was afraid that all of the feelings were going to consume and destroy me. Tonight, the worst they will do is chase a smile from my face until I get some much needed sleep.

And in some way, I find the return of these emotions comforting. Not because I have any desire to return to the constant torment I felt back then, but because it means that I'm still connected to that person I was. I can still identify so completely with my past that I can draw on it for strength, insight, an even wisdom without becoming lost in it or controlled by it. And that is a wonderful feeling.

I'm beginning to realize that this writing project is meant to serve a dual purpose. So far, I've been focused on how it might help others who are going through many of the same things -- or even just similar things -- that I did. But now I also see that it's also a chance for me to again connect to my past, understand how it led me to the presence, and discover just how I've grown from it all. And perhaps that's something I need right now, too.

Last night, I did something I haven't done in a long time. I wrote an erotic story. I think the last time I did that was back in 2005, maybe even 2004. I forgot just how much I enjoyed it. It's a way to really express myself. And since it's about the only sexual outlet I have right now (well, other than the obvious one), I think I'll be making use of it more often.

As a result, I found myself in a rather mellow mood. I came home practically floating. And that's even after writing another rather personal part of Journey!

The singleness thing is starting to get to me again, though. The problem is, it's difficult to go through all of this intense self-exploration and revealing such intimate parts of myself, only to know that I don't have someone to share them with in that special way. I'll manage, though. After all, I really do want someone special, and not just someone I can make use of. That's not my style, and I've felt guilty the few times I even came close to doing any such thing.

I'm also feeling pretty vulnerable right now, which is both good and bad. It's good, because I like that my feelings aren't locked away, wishing desperately to get out. But at the same time, it also means I'm vulnerable. And that's scary.

I mentioned in my last post that my friend, Belinda, read Journey for the first time today. What I forgot to mention was the interesting question she asked me. After reading the page called "An Emotionally Immature Adult," she turned to me and asked if I felt exhausted whenever I finished writing part of my story. She explained that she thinks she would be, given how intensely personal and moving it is.

To be honest, I feel many things when I write down the various parts of my story. I have to admit that after writing many sections (including the one she finished before asking that question), I often feel quite vulnerable and nervous. I feel like I'm ready for a break and need to do something else. But as of yet, I have yet to feel exhausted. If anything, I usually have quite the opposite reaction. I feel energized, and while I want to get away from the writing and give my heart and mind time to recover from the process, I definitely want to do something.

In many ways, being able to write my story has helped me to find another level of release. As I right each part, I know that I've put it "out there," and am no longer carrying it around inside. And while it's frightening because there are certain aspects of my life that I'm not sure how everyone will respond to, it also comes with a sense of freedom. No matter what happens, no matter how anyone chooses to react, what's done is done. I've allowed my heart and my mind to speak their peace. And that's far from exhausting. It's actually rather rejuvenating.

Once again, I find myself looking at the calendar to find the words "April 1st" written in simple letters. And once again, I find myself thinking about the special significance those words have for me. For those who may be new to this blog or my life, those words mark the anniversary of the day I came out to myself and a very good friend. And while I stated last year that I'm not big on commemorating yearly anniversaries of "life-changing events," I've decided that I will make note of this particular anniversary again this year. Perhaps my opinion on such commemorations is changing, and this will become a normal practice for me. Or perhaps this is just one more of a tiny number of exceptions to that attitude. In the end, it doesn't matter. I simply feel called to write this post, and I will do so. I'll worry about the implications some other day.

Part of the reason I feel particularly called to do this again this year is that this has been a year of changes for me, sexuality-wise. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm still a raging homo with an attitude. I sincerely doubt that will ever change. But over the past year, I think I've gone through some growth periods that will ultimately allow me to express my sexuality more freely and comfortably. So this anniversary post is about reviewing a few of those changes.

I think the most notable change came around my thirty-second birthday this past June. I spent the weekend hanging out at the psychic fair that the POC did. I spent both days ogling the cute guys that walked through and talking about them with a friend the entire time. Now, this isn't entirely a new practice for me. However, it was the first time I've done so without trying to be a little discreet and worrying about whether the guys I'm checking out noticed. As this particular weekend went by, however, I became less and less concerned about anyone noticing. I got bolder, and probably more than a little out of control by the time the event was over. I remember one friend sat by me and commented that if I kept making some of the sounds (mostly a very interested "hmmm" sounds), people were going to realize what I was doing. In that moment, I realized that I really didn't care if they did. I figured if some guy realized I was checking him out, he should feel flattered. And if he was really flattered, he should come over and say hi!

That same weekend, my attitudes about myself and my body started to change. I began to realize that I really was a good looking guy. I also realized that I needed to come to believe in myself as a sexually attractive man, despite my own hang-ups about my body-image. Since June, that's been a highly common theme in my life, and I've found an increasing ability to look in the mirror and smile, knowing that there really is a good looking guy smiling back at me from that reflective surface.

Of course, my recent relationship, though terribly short-lived, also helped me in that realm. The young man I ended up getting involved with went through a great deal of effort to pursue me (though not as much effort as the next one may find necessary, as I've now found the bliss of being pursued) gave me the first inkling that yes, there really were guys out there who could also see my allure. And despite my sadness over how things went, that realization is something I continue to carry with me, and hopefully always will.

The other major change in my life has been Journey, of course. The past year has involved a germination process which ended in the site's release just this past month. However, the idea for the book can probably be traced back to this past summer as well.

One of my greatest goals since coming out has been to encourage and help other gay and bisexual people in their own self-discovery and coming out process. It's a goal that I first reached towards just a year or two after my own coming out when I wrote a moving essay encouraging others to accept themselves for who they are. To me, Journey is an extension of that same effort.

I originally started formally collecting notes for Journey and even writing a very rough draft back in October. I still have the journal I used, and have even referred to it to see if I missed anything when writing the pages for the site. Back then, I had planned on turning Journey into a book, which had no title. It wasn't until events in March convinced me that a website was the preferred medium for the project.

Writing Journey has been a journey in itself. Indeed, it's become part of the very journey I'm writing about, just a later part of the story. It's given me many chances to look back at many of the struggles I've faced and wounds I've needed to heal and gauge my progress. In many cases, it has been exhilarating and shown me in concrete ways just how much I've healed in grown. In some cases, it's served as a somewhat painful reminder of those areas where I still need to work. In the end, I find myself wondering who will benefit most from the project when all is said and done. Those I had in mind when starting it or myself?

As I sit here today, thinking about all of these things, I find myself filling with a peaceful contentment and glowing pride. While I never saw it during most of the past twelve months, I can consider these things and realize that I've done a lot of growing in the past year. But more importantly, I can see the next layer of foundation that I laid to continue that growth process over the coming year. So my contentment and pride are ultimately married with a sense of anticipation and excitement for the next stage of the journey. Is there a better position to be in than that?

I lost my cell phone this morning. When I got to the customer site, I went to take it off my belt, only to find the belt clip was empty. I couldn't do anything about it, so I prayed that I somehow left it at home (not really a possibility, given the belt clip was with me) and went in to work. After work, I decided to run right home to check. My neighbor came out the front door as I got out of my car. It turns out that I had lucked out. Apparently, I knocked the silly thing off while dusting the snow off my car this morning. My neighbor had come home at lunch and found it. So I thanked him profusely and hopped back into my car to head for Equal Grounds.

I almost went to Jitters here in Henrietta instead. As of yesterday, the POC started having our weekly Meet and Greets there, and I found it an incredibly enjoyable place. However, I decided I wanted the slightly more cozy atmosphere of my old haunt, so I made the drive to the South Wedge. While there, I wrote some erotica and the next chapter of Journey.

While there, a couple other patrons watched Hide and Seek. I glanced up from time to time to watch the giant screen (it was less than four feet from me) for a few seconds, but I mainly focused on the writing. From what I saw, it was a pretty bizarre movie, and I never expected the ending.

The new chapter in Journey is about my longest relationship. It was a strange one to write. I'm finding that as the events I'm writing about get closer and closer to the modern day, it's a little harder to write. Of course, part of that is because the issues Ihave to write about are things I'm still working on in some sense. This became apparent as I wrote the last few paragraphs of this chapter. I realized that the end of that relationship was about realizing what I deserved and demanding it. That's something I'm still working on right now, and the need to continue insisting on the kind of love, affection, and attention I both want and deserve is a lesson that's getting driven home right now.

Due to a conversation we got into, Brian commented on the fact that this diary has been pretty focused on my lack of a relationship. I wish I could say he was wrong. But he's not. And that bugs me. I don't want to be desperate for a relationship. I don't want to have it consume me. I really want to get back to that point where I'm okay with being single and stay there.

But it's difficult. Right now, I'm going through this whole thing where I'm becoming more aware of my sexual nature again. And at the risk of giving out too much information, my libido seems to be on the rise right now. It's difficult to be going through these kinds of processes and not feel some stress over the fact that I have no one to explore that side of myself with.

Of course, the other thing I'm starting to realize is that my desire for a relationship is in part a desire to be able to put an end to the socializing thing. As I've said before, this whole thing of getting out more, doing things, and meeting people is all new to me. And while I've enjoyed it, it's not entirely comfortable for me. It's different. And there's that part of me that would like to dream of only doing it until I find my special someone and then retreat back into the familiarity of my comfort zones.

Of course, rationally, I know that'd be a mistake. Truth be told, even if I were to meet the man I'll spend the rest of my life with tomorrow, I still need to work on building up a network of friends and a general social life. I still need to learn to find and enjoy activities. I still need to meet more people and face new experiences. If I was to retreat back into my solitude, even with a wonderful guy who's perfect for me, I'd ultimately be doing myself a horrible disservice.

And yet, I can't deny how attractive or tempting an idea it is right now.

Saying goodbye to a friendship is never easy. However, I think it's hardest when neither of you really want to say goodbye, yet know you have to. That's the situation I've found myself in this week, and it's quite possibly the most painful experience I've ever had. And let me just say that coming from someone who was on the brink of suicide twice in his life and even allowed other people to convince him that he was evil incarnate for about a week, that's saying quite a lot.

It would be so much easier if either of us had done something malicious to the other. It would be easier if there had just been a fight, an argument over some sense of having been wronged. But there wasn't any such thing. Instead, life has simply gotten in the way, and we can't be there for each other right now. What's worse, there's no real guarantee of when that will change -- or even that it ever will. That's left one of us feeling hurt and the other feeling rather guilty. A bad situation all around.

So for now, we've said our goodbyes. They may be temporary, or they may be permanent. For now, I'm inclined to treat them as though they are permanent, simply because it'll make the healing process easier, I think. There won't be that temptation to go into denial about the whole thing and wait for something that may not come. If it comes -- and I hope it does -- it will be great. But in the meantime, there's work to be done. So I'll shed my tears and grieve so that I can get on with it as well as I can.

On another site, I ended up asking all my friends to reassure me that I didn't sound as emo as I feel like I've been sounding. I even went so far as to tell them to lie to me if they have to. I just reached the point today where I just feel like I've been way too emotional and whiny. And I hate it when I get like that.

Of course, I figure I've had good reason to be emotional and whiny. I've been going through a lot of things lately. I've been dredging up memories, past hurts, current troubles, and personal revelations that haven't been entirely comfortable to face. So while I hope to break out of this state of feeling like I'm often on the verge of tears, I think I've had more than enough valid reasons to be in such a state.

And it's not like I've falled into a deep pit of despair or anything even half that melodramatic. There have been the moments of cheer, the reasons to smile, and just a sense that there's still good in both the world and my personal life, no matter how topsy turvy it may feel right this second.

Truth be told, such emotional periods like this are a part of the path I've chosen to walk this time around. In reality, they're a part of any path, but I do think they are somewhat amplified on my journey. After all, I serve a goddess who is all about passion, and passion has it's down sides, too. After all, passion is also a synonym for suffering. And let's face it, my Lady is not one to do anything half-way, no matter what that thing happens to be.

And in reality, I'm not sure I'd change it anyway. After all, the fact that I've tasted such sorrow and bitterness has enabled me to feel great joy and ecstasy as well. Allowing myself to fully experience even the unpleasantness has granted me the freedom to discover and embrace astounding blissfulness as well. And in the end, I think it's worth it.

But all the same, I'll be glad when this downturn has passed. And I really do hope I don't sound too emo.

While chatting to me online last night, my friend, Panda, commented to me that she barely recognized the shy, introverted, inscure boy she first befriended about a decade ago. And she's absolutely right. I'm hardly that person I was back when she and I met and she helped me make it through some of the most emotionally trying times of my life. I'm not sure I could point to an exact time when I transformed into the self-confident, flirtatious, and occasionally intimidating guy that I am today. To be honest, I think it was a process and there's no single "flash point" I could point to anyway. It just progressed as time went on.

In many ways, I think I was always the person I am today, even back then. I just didn't fully realize it. But as I've walked that path and allowed myself to discover my inner strengths and source of confidence, I've become more and more myself. I've found a comfort with myself that, if I take the time to really think about, I never really knew before. And that's fantastic.

Of course, as I think about it, I also think of some of those qualities I always have had -- and even exhibited back before I punched through my shell and exploded into the world -- and I hope that they are still equally visible. For example, I don't want the fact that I'm now quite friendly, outgoing, flirtatious, and willing to actually say a number of things to ever negate the fact that I'm a good listener and able to give people a shoulder to cry on.

Oh, I know I'll never lose those qualities. They're as much a part of me as these new aspects of my personality are. They always will be. But I hope that they continue to remain visible rather than getting obscured by my ability and desire to be more outgoing and forthright.

In reality, I think that won't be a problem in the long run. Right now, I'm exploring something new in my life and a new dimension of my being. I suppose that to some degree, it's only appropriate that it get a little extra focus and even be a bit emphasized. But my fondest desire is to eventually find a way to integrate it all so that it feels and looks like a complete whole rather than fractionalized and somewhat conflicting pieces trying to coexist. After all, I want to be a complete whole, and all of these things are what make the whole of me.

While driving to Applebee's tonight, Aerosmith's song, I Don't Want to Miss a Thing, came on the radio. There are many songs that are deeply connected to memories of people and events in my life, and this is one such song. In fact, it's probably one of the most strongly connected songs I can think of.

Tonight, this song took me back to my relationship with my first boyfriend. At the time Chris (not his real name) and I were dating, this song was relatively new and seeing a lot of airtime across the nation. And every time I heard it, I became more deeply convinced that it was the perfect song to describe how I felt about our relationship. In fact, I think I pointed this out to Chris at the time.

Thinking about the relationship now, I can still understand why I felt this way. Chris and I seldom saw each other (we probably spent barely over a week total together throughout the six months we were "involved"), and it was perfectly reasonable for me to want to make as much of that precious rare time as I could. On more than one occasion, I ended up taking a sick or personal day off work just so I could have those eight more hours with him.

Of course, there were other reasons for feeling like this, too. The relationship wasn't healthy, and I knew it. And that made me want to cling to it even tighter, holding it together out of my own desparation. Aerosmith's song spoke to me powerfully and romantically about that desparation I was feeling. In many ways, I used that song to validate my sense of desperation.

As I listened to that song this evening and allowed these memories and thoughts to play through my mind, I began to ask myself many questions. The first question was whether there was any pain associated with this song or the memories that it evoked. There wasn't, and I have to admit that I'm a little surprised by that. Certainly, there's a certain morose feel to the whole thing as I think of mistakes made and lessons learned. And there's the memory of the pain that used to be there. There's the knowledge that years ago, hearing this song would've driven me to tears almost instantly. But not this evening. This evening, there was merely a sense of familiarity and a knowledge of what has passed. And while I find it somewhat strange, I also find it rather comforting.

Of course, I also asked myself how I felt about the message of the song today. If I were with someone, would this song still reflect how I would feel about a new relationship? And I think that for the most part, I can say that it doesn't. Because now, my love relationships aren't about desperation, they're about something else.

The underlying premise of the song is about a relationship that would consume my whole life, an that's not what I'm lookin fo at all. Certainly, I want a lover I can share my life with, and I'd prefer to spend the rest of my life with him. And there are certainly those moments I will want to get lost in, but only for a time. Because there are other things in my life that are equally important. And I do not wish to give up those things completely just so I can make sure I "don't miss a thing" with my lover. That just isn't healthy.

It's strange to think of the thought processes a song can initiate. Of course, I also find it interesting that this all started on the same day that I had a dream about Chris (sadly, I don't remember any details) while napping.

Since I first began to check out Misty Irons this weekend, I've spent a certain amount of time looking over her site and blog. I find her search for truth refreshing and inspiring. Also, I admire her honest desire to create and facilitate dialogue. So when I ran across her three part series on how queers and conservative Christians "talk past each other, I was more than a little fascinated. For this entry, I'm going to focus on the contents of Part 1, where she talks about her initial difficulty in understanding gay pride.

In all reality, both my personal experiences and my observations have led me to conclude that gay pride is a difficult concept for most queers to understand when they're first coming to terms with their sexual orientation. I remember the first year or two of my own journey where the whole idea made no sense. I remember telling my friends, "I may be able to accept that I'm gay, but I see no point in being proud about it." I also argued that it made no more sense to be proud of being gay than it did to be proud that I had blue eyes.

Just as Misty had to get a clearer picture of the coming out process and the difficulty and self-hatred that is usually involved in the early stages of the coming out process to understand the subsequent pride, I had to go through that process before I could truly appreciate and even experience that pride for myself. And I've noticed the same lack of understanding in the handful of other gay people (mostly men) I've known while they're going through that stage of their life again. So it only makes sense that non-queers would only be able to understand the idea of gay pride only after becoming familiar with the processing leading up to it.

This is where Misty notes that not everyone who is gay talks about this early period of self-hatred. In fact, she goes so far as to suggest that its discussion is practically forbidden in the gay community:

It was a strange thing, then, for me to learn that when someone who is gay makes such an honest admission, they are practically shouted down by fellow gays for “self-hatred.” The very admission that helped to open up my mind and heart, just enough to encourage me to keep on digging, is considered a heresy in the gay community.

Again, based on my own experiences and observations, I am inclined to agree with her assessment. And like her, I find this state of affairs troubling -- both for the reasons she mentioned and my own. To that extent, I think it's important to consider what motivates this push for silence.

First, I think that we must face the simple truth that we as humans prefer to avoid that which causes us pain -- or even makes us uncomfortable -- whenever possible. The early stages in the journey to self-acceptance are often extremely painful. Even among those who were raised in "gay-friendly" family environments, there's often still a certain amount of discomfort in the coming out process. For those of us who were raised in environments that took a much more negative outlook on homosexuality, the process can be downright hellish. I don't think it's any that wonder we might be a little hesitant to drudge that back up or put it on display for others.

Of course, this explains why an individual might not want to expose their own past pains. It does not explain why an individual would actively discourage another person from doing so. It does not explain why we are so quick to silence those going through the process and haven't fully escaped that self-loathing or sense of resignation to move into actual self-acceptance and self-affirmation.

My personal theory on that one is that we silence them because seeing their pain reminds us of our own. Allowing those who are still on the journey to speak too strongly of these things reminds us of that past we'd like to move beyond and forget about. Unfortunately, attempting to silence them robs us of something the experience offers us: an opportunity for deeper, more complete healing of our own pains.

I also believe that in some ways, it's a well-intentioned attempt at protecting the person who is hasn't reached the point of self-acceptance. To put as fine a point as possible on it, admitting that one wishes one wasn't gay is a pretty good invitation to the proponents of ex-gay therapy to offer you their alternative. That's an alternative that many of us have tried and failed at, sometimes at great personal cost. So the thought of seeing someone else open themselves up to going down that road themselves can cause some pretty strong reactions. And it is not surprising, however unfortunate it may be, that sometimes, the reaction results in strongly discouraging someone from making such statements.

Ultimately, I think this kind of reaction is more harmful than good. Not only does it prevent would-be supporters from fully understanding us, but it also has negative effects on us. Not being able to be open about our experiences and feelings only inhibits us from finding healing and wholeness. Hopefully, this truth is something that we as individuals and a community will come to understand and seek to change the way we handle these issues in the future.

Last night, I had avery strange dreams. It bothered me in some ways, so I thought I'd write about it here.

The dream was about Mike. Somehow, he had found me and took me to dinner someplace so we could talk. He wanted the two of us to get back together. In fact, he was quite emphatic and persistent about it. And in the dream, a part of me really wanted to say yes. But another part of me was quite unenthusiastic about the idea. In fact, that part of me was downright cold to the idea.

And there were good reasons for that emotional reaction, don't get me wrong. While Mike was being quite clear that he wanted us to get back together, he steered clear of discussing any of the reasons I broke up with him in the first place. And I was having problem with that, because it was pretty clear to me that none of the obstacles (most of them imposed by Mike himself) that caused me to walk away had been resolved, nor were they going to be. So the dispassionate part of me kept running through the list:

"That's nice, but your family commitments and the fact that you don't want to tell them you like guys is still going to keep us apart most of the time."

"That's nice, but you're still not ready to move in together and may never be ready for that, given the way things are going."

"That's nice, but I still don't foresee the romantic or physical side of our relationship growing."

In short, he was offering me a return to the status quo I no longer wanted to live with back in 2005. I certainly don't want to go back to living with it two years later!

I woke up before the discussion ended or I gave him an answer. I was rather troubled by the whole thing. Primarily, I was troubled by the fact that I was dreaming about him again two years after I broke up with him. I was troubled by that part of me in the dream that really did want to get back together with him. That's mainly because I'm trourlbe by the idea that such a part of me probably still exists in the waking world. I want to move forward with my life. I want to look for that better, more fulfilling, and healthier relationship that most of me (the part that was cold and rational in the dream) knows I deserve. And I don't want some part of me that still occasionally thinks longlingly of the one(s) that didn't work out to get in the way of future possibilities.

And that's why it probably particularly bothered me that I didn't give him an answer before I woke up. Specifically, it bothers me that I didn't just come right out and tell him that I'm still not interested in what he's still offering me. Because that just makes it feel all the more like that small part of me is still holding me back.

Thanksgiving Day, I had a bit of a personal experience. After I had gotten to my parents' home and was seated in the dining room chatting with them, I began to look around the room. On the one stand next to the interior wall, I spotted an old picture of me. If my mother is right (I mentioned it to her later), it was the casual picture I had taken when I had my senior pictures taken in high school.

When I first saw the picture, I did a double take. "That was me?! Damn, I was cute back then!" In fact, I was so taken by the picture that I almost had trouble believing it really was me. I looked rather different back then. It was before my hairline had really started to recede and before I put on an extra 70+ pounds. This realization was somewhat depressing, and for a moment, I even mourned the fact that I was no longer that young man in the picture.

What's more, I mourned that I never realized how good looking I really was back then. I never considered myself ugly (and never have), but I did consider myself pretty plain. Part of that was because the school nurse kept harping on the fact that I was "slightly overweight" every year. Add that to the fact that none of the girls in school really seemed all that interested in me (nor the boys, but I wouldn't have been ready to pursue that possibility anyway), and it just never occurred to me how great I looked. Of course, that made the realization rather sweet now, even if I did wish I would've taken better advantage of my looks back then.

But then Miss Thing (Have I mentioned that I love having a patron goddess who let's me get away with calling her names like "Miss Thing"?) began pointing out to me that I'm still very good looking. Despite the decrease in hair and the increase in weight. And besides, I'm slowly, very slowly, doing something about that latter part. It is entirely likely that in three or four years, I could be that "slightly overweight" (in which case I will party) guy in the picture again, just at twice the age. But it's going to take time, patience, and a lot of self love. After all, if I try to rush things, I'll only get frustrated and sabotage my own efforts. And besides, I need to accept I already look great so that it becomes a matter of improving on an already great thing rather than some struggle against myself.

So I will continue to do my exercising (which I admit I've been bad about for the past couple weeks). I'll get back to eating healthier. And I'll continue to do so because I enjoy it (I'm already pining for longer days and warmer weather again so I can return to my walking). But at least now, I do it with a glimmer of hope that despite not being my primary goal, there's proof that I could really enjoy the fringe benefits in the long run, too.

In an entry on Mutiply, I talked about my perspective changed in regards to getting involved with a guy who has kids. It seems proper to note that while I've only become fully aware of this change, the actual change process has been a long time in the works. In fact, I can trace its beginnings back as early as 2001.

Back in 2001, I met Mike, who I ended up dating for four years. Mike didn't have any children of his own, but was fiercely devoted two his sister's two sons, especially David, who was in his mid teens at the time. In fact, he was so devoted to them, you would've thought they were his own kids.

Again, this level of devotion was very attractive for me, for all of the same reasons I mentioned in the previous post. And there was the fact that Mike was devoted and close to his family in general, including his mother. (To be honest, he struck me as something of a "momma's boy" at times.) That in itself was also an attractive quality. I myself have always been close to my family, so it was nice to see that reflected in the person I was with. Of course, I also think that it was a bit of a comfort to me, as my family was becoming more distant at the time, too. So it was nice to be reminded that such closeness could still last, even if not in my family. (Fortunately, things are on the mend in my own family now.)

Of course, in the end, Mike's closeness with his family contributed significantly to the end of our relationship. This is mainly because in the four years we dated, Mike never reached the point where he was comfortable coming out to his family. This meant that he spent that entire time leading a double life, keeping our relationship safely separated from his relationship with his parents, sister, and nephews. This also meant that when his time was limited, that time was usually spent with his family rather than me. After a while, that simply became unacceptable to me. Along with other issues, I finally confronted him and ended our relationship when he admitted he was unwilling to do anything to resolve these issues.

In retrospect, I don't hold Mike's devotion to his family against him, even if it did contribute to the end of our relationship. To this day, I consider that a positive quality and something I'd still find attractive. However, I do take issue with his unwillingness to integrate his devotion to me and his devotion to his family, because his failure to do so was the real problem. To this day, that fact is something of a sore spot in my life, though I've mostly made my peace.

Through the grapevine, I've come to understand that Mike's gone back to dating girls, and has been with the same girl for at least a year now. I guess things are going quite well, at least from what I can gain from indirect sources. When I first found out about this, I was deeply hurt. In fact, I won't say I don't still feel a twinge of pain over it now. However, I've come to be more accepting of his choices, and I hpoe he can truly find happiness with this woman. After all, I don't think he'd ever find happiness with me or any other guy. Because it's become clear to me that he could never make that choice that would ultimately be necessary. So I hope he can find happiness in the choices he has made.

I know I have. And to be honest, I'm starting to realize that my new choices since breaking up with him have offered me more chances for happiness than I ever would've had with him. (I just hope that doesn't sound too cruel.)