Category Archives: Emotions

I feel many things, but exhausted isn’t one of them.

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.

I need to do that more often

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.

The power of memories

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.

Coming out is not a panacea

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.

Sexual Self-discovery

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.

Stronger than I thought

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.

Painful realizations

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.

Turning Inward

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.

Weird mood

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?