Jay's Coming Out Diary
Follow Jay on Twitter @JayDeeEss
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'Jay' is from Pennsylvania, USA and at the age of 60 has decided to come out to his family and friends. He will be sharing his experience with us via this diary. Jay needs our support in what will be a challenging but life-changing time for him therefore your comments will be greatly appreciated by Jay and rucomingout. (Latest entries posted at the top!) |
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#6 – October 28th 2012 – ‘My Own Personal Hurricane Sandy'
This is the sixth or seventh time I have sat down to write Entry #6 and it should be noted that I am doing it while Hurricane Sandy is pounding on the windows of my office. So far I have countless type-written pages of text, but not one of them has felt right to me. In retrospect, I realize I have been placing an inordinate amount of pressure on myself to produce the next entry to my blog. First and foremost, I have not wanted to disappoint Wayne or any of the people who have been following this blog. As a result, my computers at work and at home along with my iPad have started to remind me of the stereotypical movie scene in which the totally blocked writer is surrounded by a mound of wadded up pieces of scribbled upon paper. However, in my case the scene is characterized by an inordinate amount of incomplete word documents. Despite my best efforts, while so much has happened in my life I simply could not find any real meaning in the things I was writing; that is not until I started reading "The Velvet Rage" by Alan Downs. At that point, the inertia that had been haunting me was made clear. I have been almost completely immobilized by self-doubt, guilt, shame and unceasing, never ending fear.
As Alan Downs proclaims in his book, most of us gay men have reached adulthood with a deep and abiding belief that we are fundamentally, critically and morally flawed as human beings. While most of our heterosexual male counterparts were being validated all over the place (and from a very early age), we gay folk were not receiving any such validation or affirmation. A straight boy is able to connect to his same sex parent and is able to receive a ton of affirmations, particularly as it relates to his masculinity and to the valued position he holds within society. We queer kids, although we may be able to hide it from everyone’s view, are aware of the fact we do not belong. And we most assuredly do not feel like a valued member of our societal tribe!
So, in order to compensate for such all-encompassing invalidation and to help neutralize the intense emotional pain it spawned, most of us turned to designing a host of people pleasing attitudes and behaviors. In other words, if I am unacceptable and morally twisted as a human being because of my differences, if I scour the world for approval maybe I can start to feel worthwhile and deserving of love. No one has been a better student of this philosophy than me. Scanning the environment and giving it want it wants has always been my coping mechanism of choice and over the years I have become very, very good at it! Unfortunately, even though I became quite adept at altering myself so the world might provide the validation I craved, once received it was always short lived - and it never ever came close to touching the fundamental, core shame within me. Subsequently, when I began to experience the harsh reality of my family’s rejection in June all of the deeply held pain that had been created by the original invalidation of me was immediately ignited and came rushing to the surface. And I have not been quite the same since that time.
Since my last entry in August, my life has continued to be, to say the least, tumultuous. Intellectually I know whenever anyone makes such enormous life altering changes like I have just made, the ramifications can be equally gigantic - much like a tsunami after the earth’s plates have abruptly and dramatically rearranged themselves. But it’s hard to maintain that calm and cool philosophical mindset when you are caught in such an emotionally painful circumstance. Almost from the moment I came out to my wife, daughters and son-in-law, their all-encompassing negativity toward me has gradually and consistently broadened, intensified and generalized. In essence, the girls have become disdainful of me, so much so that I have now been diagnosed by them as having a narcissistic personality, which, in turn, has given them free reign to totally dismiss me. However, the kids, of course, have no trouble identifying with their rejected, abandoned mother and have, therefore, given her all of their time, attention, understanding and unconditional love.
As time passed, the vortex of negativity created by these variables reached such a fevered pitch by the end of August, that I had no choice but to stay home instead of accompanying the family on a week-long vacation at the beach. This experience turned out to be one of the most difficult ones of my life and the only way I could survive it was to work. At least in the office I could help people, feel validated and experience some semblance of joy. While I was prepared for the pain associated with being alone while everyone else was having fun and loving the other, I was not prepared for the additional pain I would encounter after the vacation was over. Not only were my kids indifferent about my absence from our family vacation, they evaluated my decision to stay home in the most negative ways possible (I didn’t go because I am selfish, self-centered and insensitive.) To make matters worse, there was absolutely nothing I could have said or done to alter these perceptions, for now that I am a narcissistic personality all of my attitudes and behaviors are analyzed through that dysfunctional filter.
While this huge no-win situation has been unbelievably painful, it is made even more so by the fact that it is totally unacceptable to them for me to react to any of this emotionally (that is, if I had the opportunity to react in front of them, which I don’t). More specifically, whether I am happy or angry, I am seen as self-absorbed and uncaring. If I am sad or hurt I am viewed as having another disorder, probably on the order of Borderline Personality Disorder, for my sullen mood is verification that regardless of circumstance I am unable to be happy – with myself or anyone else. Under these conditions, it has been extremely difficult for me to keep my emotional head above the water line. But do not get me wrong. I DO also recognize that this has not been an easy time for my family either.
On the surface, it appears that my family has projected upon me the very characteristics they too have been exhibiting. In other words, they have labeled me selfish for not doing what they wanted me to do, which is, in and of itself, selfish. The great divide between been me and my family is a testament to the old adage that two people, or two factions of people, can be correct in any given situation at the same time. Regarding my wife, although I did make her aware of my evolving sexual awareness over the past two decades, I always promised I would never leave her. So, the realization that I was going to abruptly renege on that 34 year commitment was devastating to her. Being 60 years of age herself, my wife believed herself to be tossed out - and into a world that she perceived would no longer find her marketable. For the first time she felt alone and believed she would never again be involved in an intimate relationship.
Also, at the very time I told my wife I wanted a divorce so that I could pursue a close homosexual relationship, we learned that out oldest daughter was pregnant with our first grandchild. So, all the dreams of a Norman Rockwell family during this phase of life were dashed for her. Finally, at the same time we learned that one of their dearest and most beloved lifelong friends was in the hospital and would probably die from complications associated with Leukemia. To say the least, that’s a lot of loss all at one time and my wife had every right to be furious with me. So, it’s little wonder why they all view me as self-absorbed and insensitive. And in a way they were right. I WAS being self-centered, for at that point I was fighting with all of my might to keep from committing suicide. So, it was either be selfish and live or act selfishly and die. I finally chose to live – and it was at that juncture that I came across a little ditty called “F*** Em All” by an artist named J. B. Dubbs that helped me do it. I still play that song, especially when I’m regressing into one of my codependent hazes.
Concerning both of my daughters, their thoughts and feelings too are valid and totally understandable. They both have had a father who has been physically and emotionally unavailable to them for years. Since I was the primary bread winner (but not the sole earner, for my wife has always worked outside of the house), I had to work long hours and at a job that was emotionally and psychologically draining. To make matters worse, because I had abandoned my real, true self a long time before that (so that I might find the acceptance and affirmation I have always longed for) and since I was in a position that demanded unrelenting nurturance and empathy of other people, the stress created in my body became intense. In the end, something just had to give. My options as I saw them at the time were to 1.) Change my circumstance, 2.) Change my perceptions and/or reactions to my circumstance or 3.) Numb it all out. I chose alternative #3 and did so through a mixture of compulsive overeating, compulsive working (around the house and at the office), Ativan and cigarettes. By the time I reached my 60th birthday on January 8th of this year, I had been reduced to a mere shell of a person. Although nicotine free for four years, I had ballooned to 240 lbs (I’m only 5” 9”.), was still addicted to Ativan and had become very withdrawn. I just wanted to be left alone, for it simply was too much work pretending to be nice "after hours". This is the person the kids came home to on holidays. Fun, right? No!
So, these “kids” have not had a real father in a very long time - and in their estimation (I’m sure) they see themselves as having even less of one now. In this regard, to quell the pain associated with the impending destruction of their family as they have known it, perhaps they have concluded there is no other choice but to care even less about me than they feel I do about them. I don’t know. I cannot speak to them of such things, for they simply become disgusted. So, whether this theory is true or not, it's irrelevant. I’m sure it's hurting them, for no child (grown or not) wants to feel such negative feelings toward a person who has helped to bring them into the world.
A little note to myself: It would be wise for me to remember this reality so that my conclusions concerning the underlying motives and intentions of the kids’ actions are not so misconstrued. Additionally, while it does appear that my wife has put few limits on what she will do to insure the uninterrupted unconditional love from the children, even if it is to place me in an unfair and negative light, it is clear that the kids do love their mother - and they have all the right in the world to do so, because it is she who has been there for them, both emotionally and physically, throughout their growing up years. While I was preoccupied with making money and maintaining some modicum of self-worth, it was she who was there for them every night. It’s little wonder why I have looked so self-centered to them, for I was! Unfortunately, sustaining this mature and highly evolved mindset and not regressing into bouts of bitterness has been extremely difficult for me at times - like last weekend for example.
The entire family was home for an extended weekend stay to celebrate the upcoming birth of my oldest daughter’s first child - a girl and our first grandchild. My younger daughter and goddaughter/niece were hosting a baby shower for her at our home. To properly prepare myself for this event, I tirelessly worked on the house for weeks. I even refurbished a family heirloom bassinet for the baby’s arrival. However, more importantly I worked on me for an even longer period of time. Still emotionally reeling from the vacation debacle, I was determined to be okay emotionally and psychologically for this event. So, I read, meditated and listened to self-improvement audio books (and "up" music) on my iPod until my ears were ready to fall off from the over-the-ear headphone pressure. (Love my Beats. Had to get that in! LOL) Finally, I was ready - or so I thought.
From the very beginning of the weekend it was clear the girls wanted nothing to do with me; and they almost seemed to delight in overtly yet subtly showing their dislike of me. Talk about invalidation. The act of looking through me rather than at me along with intermittent eye rolls was utterly nonstop, regardless of what I did and/or said, and it repeatedly set me on my ass emotionally. In fact, it got so bad I found myself silently withdrawing from them, going to another part of the house, putting on my headphones and centering myself with an audio book. Eventually, by Saturday night I could withstand the abuse no longer and when everyone went to bed, I totally tanked emotionally. Alone, crawled under the covers on the couch and cried myself to sleep. However, as I lay there before falling asleep I could hear my father's voice when he would tell me how his life was going along just fine until I came along, at which time it totally “went to shit”. God that was one dark night!
Of course, when I awoke the next morning, I was at the same level of emotion as when I fell asleep, which, as I would realize later, did not help the situation that day. By the time brunch was over, I was having an increasingly tougher time successfully masking my hurt - and the girls were now having more difficulty containing their (what felt like) complete disgust for me and all that I have become. As the day unfolded, it also became clear that my son-in-law, whom I have championed over the past ten years, had positioned himself (during the family vacation) as the new male head of the family. As a result, the family fawned over him, he fawned over them, the girls fawned over each other and I was dismissed as irrelevant. Case closed. Everyone got what they wanted – with the exception of me. Jesus Christ, I became reviled for something that was still a concept. I still have no real life flesh-and-blood gay friends, and I sure am not getting laid! So, to me it’s like WTF!!! Families are supposed to nurture and love you. So, it was especially painful when my reaction to their departure was one of relief. Finally, the pain would stop coming my way, at least so directly.
That was two weeks ago and I haven't heard from them since. A couple of days ago I sent the girls an email in which I set some overdue boundaries with them. I hope I did so in a way that did not come across to them as angry or spiteful. But I suppose it doesn't matter what my intentions are at this point. I will be judged by what they assume is true, not what actually comes out of my mouth. I did this because I simply had to draw the same boundary with them that I did with my father over ten years ago. In essence, I proclaimed that either you respect me (or at least don't psychologically abuse me) or there will be no relationship at all. That was three days ago and, of course, I have heard nothing. So, I suppose they both chose option B. However, I still hear the jovial telephone conversations their mother, who is in the next room, is having with them. To hear my wife talk about the pregnancy, as well as all things having to do with the grandchild is truly heart wrenching, for I am not a part of this child’s life and may never be a part of it! In fact, someone at the office the other day asked me what I wanted to be called by the baby. I realized I have not put any thought into it, because the way things appear at this point I won’t need to come up with a name. I won’t be called anything. (Well, that may not be totally true. There may be a lot of names I will be called. Who knows!!?)
Despite these most recent occurrences, I have, nonetheless, made steady headway. I have now come out to all of my closest friends and business associates. With the exception of one close friend, who is struggling but sincerely is trying to understand, all of these people have been incredibly loving, accepting and supportive. The positive feedback and personal affirmations I have received from them has helped to neutralize the abandonment and harsh judgment I have received from my family. For this, I am deeply grateful!! I still, however, hold out hope that someday I might reconcile with my kids and rebuild a loving relationship with each of them. Regardless, one of the things this process has taught me is that everyone must find for themselves the right time to come out. No one can do it by anyone else’s time schedule. For me, I needed every single psychotherapy session, group session, book, audio book and personal experience to adequately prepare me for what was to come. To do otherwise would have been impossible for me. However, this is not to suggest that anyone will have the amount or intensity of difficulty with the coming out process as have I, for this is probably not the case.
For starters, most people coming out today have not been raised during the era in which I was raised. More contemporary gays, thankfully, will not have to grapple with the horrible stigma I had to overcome. Presently, most gays, closeted or not, will not have to hear respected leaders of their community, country or world make bold correlations between homosexuals and child molesters or people who are hated by God and doomed to “everlasting hell”. And many of the newer bigots, such as Ann Coulter, Rick Santorum, Michele Bachmann (don’t’ get me started on her “husband”, Marcus) and Rush Limbaugh don’t really count! They are all idiots and everyone, with the exception of the most extreme right wingnuts, knows it. Also, most LGBT people of today probably will not have to experience (what could only be called) religious abuse that many people (gay or straight) of my age had to endure throughout their childhood and adolescence. Today, even the pope is looked upon as totally out of touch most of world. Finally, most gays of today will not have to go through years of convincing other people that they are something that they are not only to later on in life have to deal with the distrust this deception created.
Please do not get me wrong. I am not trying to make a molehill out of anyone’s mountain, for the coming out process is not easy for anyone, regardless of age, era raised or any other variable. It IS, however, meant to keep the readers of Rucomingout from concluding if the coming out process is this bad, “F*** it! I’m not doing it if this is the shit I have to put up with!” I’m here to tell you to DO IT ANYWAY! Just do it when the time is right for you – and only you! In this regard, no one else matters. Even though I am going through a rough time in my life, it is worth it. Someone once said that it is better to be hated for who you are rather than loved for who you are not. This statement is true, but only if you have found love for yourself first. If you haven’t, my advice would be to stay in the closet, at least until you have begun to discover that love. However, if or when you decide to reveal yourself, please remember that my situation is probably far different than yours will be, and the reactions from others are likely to be far less harsh and more accepting than mine have been. But even if they are not in so accepting initially, in most circumstances loved ones DO make the appropriate adjustments and eventually DO include the gay person back into their lives - and into their hearts.
And, again, despite my intermittent penchant for pessimism, I realize the chances are good that I will eventually be able to reconnect with my family. I do love them all, even my cantankerous son-in-law, but until that time, I need to keep the focus on myself by working to eradicate the shame that has been handed down to me and to replace it with as much self-worth and personal authenticity as I can possibly muster. So that I might be ready when/if my family chooses to reach out to me, I must learn how to first love myself, for if I cannot love me, I cannot love anyone else. And even though this goal may be especially difficult for gays to achieve, isn't it the fundamental dilemma for all of us, regardless of the things that make us look separate from each other!?! I think it is!!! So, onward and upward!!!
So, there you have it, guys and girls. My new entry – and in the spirit of Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s “South Park” movie, it is bigger, longer and (totally) uncut. For my gay readers (both open and not), I hope this entry helps in some positive way. For the straight people who love us, I hope it sheds a little light on some of the struggles we LGBTQ folks go through that you may not totally understand. If it doesn’t help, I have just completely put myself out there all by myself– raw and naked (and for a 60 year old gay guy who has just lost 80 lbs. that would not be a particularly comfortable position to find myself in!!!! HaHaHa)
Love to you all!
Jay x
#5 - August 7th 2012 - 'The Howling Winds'
Right now I feel like a complete and utter fool. While so many people have called me brave, I am afraid that I have been just plain stupid. By coming out I have made my wife absolutely miserable – angry, bitter and extremely sad. On top of that I have one daughter who is openly disdainful of me and another (a pregnant one) who avoids me at all cost. Even my son-in-law, who has always been such a source of happiness for me, stays as far away from me (and the drama) as he possibly can get. It is absolutely overwhelming for me to accept that my children have, in essence, shunned me, totally turning their backs on me for simply trying to create my dreams, when I have done everything in my power to help them create their own. (They both have Bachelor’s degrees and one has had a story book wedding, all of which would not have happened if it wasn’t for me working my ass off.) The final indignity was levied upon me by my wife when she, who had discussed it with the kids behind my back, proclaimed their rejection was not due to the “gay issue”. The hell it wasn’t!!! It may not be all of it, but the realization that their father was gay was (and is) most certainly a huge factor here!
I know they all need time, but I am so hurt and angry over their (what appears to be complete) lack of respect for me. I also cannot imagine shunning anyone I love, especially when I knew they are in such tremendous pain - even if I do not agree with their decision(s). Maybe they don’t love me - and never did!?! I don’t know. But I have known for a very long time that my wife has never been a real ally on my behalf and that she would (and has) thrown me under the bus, so to speak, so might maintain her own good standing with someone, including our children. Getting myself out of denial and facing the fact I have aided and abetted in this dynamic all along the way has not been an easy endeavor, to say the very least! Nevertheless, while the blatant rejection of my daughters has been without question the most heart wrenching experience of my life, I still could handle it if there was someone (i.e., a man) to lean on. If there just was one person (i.e., a boyfriend) in my life, someone who could extend his hand and gently lead me into my/our new life, I could better face these losses. But at this point I have neither. I feel like a snail that has left one shell (because it was too small) for, hopefully, a more suitable/larger one. However, until the snail finds its new home it has to deal with the foreboding ocean bed - alone, exposed to the elements, confused and not quite sure what lies ahead. Is it going to achieve its goals or be eaten alive!?!
Unfortunately, there are no such assurances or no such person - and it appears that there may never be any. The fact is that no guy will even give me the time of day, regardless of what I do or where I go. I’m beginning to believe that I simply waited too damn long - that I just am too fucking old! Two hours ago I talked to a nice guy (a truly nice guy – and not a twink) on Grindr. (I thought I would finally give this medium a shot.) Everything was going fine until the time came to tell him how old I was and to send him a photo. This time, however, I lied (which I vowed I would never do in this, my gay life, reincarnation) and told him I was 50 instead of 60. Once I clicked the send button that took care of that! Conversation done -almost, that is! He was having a tough time signing off with me, so I found myself comforting him over the fact that he would not be a "shallow" person for rejecting me because of my age and appearance. I’m telling you, I don't stand a chance in this new world!!!
The Grindr experience was the “straw” in a day was not going well at all. I have been so excited to see Rufus Wainwright live in concert in Philadelphia. On my way to the event this afternoon, I discovered the concert had been postponed at the last minute. I realized this fact when I googled the site to get directions to the arena, otherwise I would have driven well over two hours to get there for nothing. On the site there was no explanation as to why the concert was postponed. (It should be noted here that this experience came on the heels of a lot of other disappointments I have faced recently. One of them occurred last weekend when I visited (alone) two gay bars in Baltimore. Never have I felt so completely invisible.) To me, the concert cancelation is further validation that there really is nothing I can do to bring positive, tangible things into my life, regardless of what I do, what I don’t do, what I say, what I don’t say, what I think, what I don’t think, what decisions I make, what dreams I attempt to create or where I go. Again, it feels like when I propel my own wants, wishes and/or desires upon the world, the world/God/universe always responds with a resounding “No!” - or silently turns its back on me (Hmmm, like the kids!). However, despite all of these disappointments there still exists within me a smidgen of hope. As a result, I tried (once again) to manifest my desires, but in different way. This is when I logged into Grindr, in an attempt to find a guy who I could at least have a drink with. Again, NO!!!!
So, there I was, sitting in a mall parking lot, staring at a lifeless Grindr screen. I could feel a huge tidal wave of despair descending upon and overpowering me. What the hell have I been doing over the last couple of months, was the thought that kept running through my head. Who am I trying to kid!?! Fuck it, I thought. I’ll do what every other respectable gay would do – shop! I was at a mall anyway, wasn’t I? So, I marched myself into a men’s clothing store and proceeded to refocus my thoughts, but the more I tried to elevate my mood the heavier my heart became. This time, instead of fighting the current of pain, I just let go and accepted it. With that I left the store and made my way to the food court, where I ordered a huge coffee, sat myself down at one of the nearby tables (in the middle of everything), opened my iPad and started to write (what would turn out to be) this (my next) diary entry.
So, here I am sitting alone at a table in the middle of a mall, crying while I draft this (self-admittedly) pathetic, self-pitying and whining composition. I knew before I turned on my iPad that this entry was going to be raw, gritty and really (really) messed up, but if the readers of this blog are to know what the coming out process can look like, I must get (and stay) real with myself, to share that with you and to remove the constant impulse to “look good”. So, here I am, guys, in all of my self-doubting, insecure and inadequate glory. Although it is true that I have been so incredibly pissed off, underneath the anger exists so much profound sadness. As I wrote that sentence, the tears again cascaded down my face. (What a hot mess I must look like now to all of the shoppers!)
When I put myself out there and get so utterly ignored, it makes me absolutely crazy, for I feel so incredibly powerless; and it causes me to realize I have never (ever) experienced true romantic love in the entire six decades I have been on this planet. More importantly, I have never (ever) had the opportunity to feel or to express real, true, deep, all-encompassing romantic love toward anyone. Furthermore, I now realize (from the very depths of me) what I have always wanted was to give love even more than I have wanted to receive it, for by giving it I could truly experience it! While I have known love for my children, my wife, my friends and my clients, I have never experienced this type of love with a lover. Given this realization, I now know how profoundly alone and lonely I have ALWAYS been. And now, at 60, when I finally “get it” life appears to be telling me that I will never have those experiences; and not only will I not secure what I need, in the quest for obtaining those needs I will hurt the ones I vowed to love, honor and protect the most - my family of procreation, as we say in my (psychology) business. (Damn, I should never have quit smoking! Salem 100’s would have kept me from feeling/facing/having to deal with all of this shit. I would probably weigh 300 pounds and be on a vent, but at least I would be fat and happy in my ignorance. HaHaHa! Not really! I don’t mean that! I guess I’m starting to feel a little better!)
There is one more aspect of this situation that is causing me a lot of emotional upheaval; that is, my new and evolving spiritual beliefs, which have been the biggest catalyst for all of these recent changes in me and actions. For the past six months, I have been trying so hard to apply the principles associated with the law of attraction, which states that all things liken onto itself will be attracted. It has been so difficult to keep my faith, so to speak, when my eyes tell me the reverse; that is, to that which I desire will NOT show up. So, it's been exceedingly difficult to keep going on when so much of what I want appears totally out of grasp. (I come from a very fundamental Protestant background, so the thought of a God who doles out the goodies at whim is very deeply entrenched in my psyche and has been extremely hard to extract out of it.)
I must say, though, that there have been a number of blessings along the way in this gay, rainbow journey of mine. The unconditional love, support and encouragement I have received from my two business partners (and dear lifelong friends) has been amazing! Since they know and read this blog, I want to tell them here how much they both mean to me, as well as their respective spouses, who too have been a source of comfort and love. Also, I again want to take a moment to thank my Twitter friends, Derek Bishop (especially), Brett Gleason, Jack Hawitt, Rich Parnell-Page and Matt Lister for all the love that they keep sending my way. (I sincerely hope at some point you all become real, flesh and bone friends of mine.)
The person, however, I want to thank the most (once again) is Wayne Dhesi, who has been my champion and the one who has made this process (all of it - good and not so good) possible. Because of him I am forging ahead into my future even though I am clueless as to how this whole thing will turn out. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Wayne. The work you are doing with rucomingout.com is so important and so needed!!! Finally, I thank all the readers of my diary; and I cherish all of your loving, encouraging comments! By the things I said earlier, I do not mean to marginalize your importance in my life. You all have given me the strength to carry on. It's just that sometimes I need someone real - someone I can see, touch, feel and smell to show me that this was not all an exercise in futility. If there is such a thing as the power created by the collective conscious, please band together and send it my way! I’ll take all the freaking good vibes I can get!!!!
Well guys my coffee cup is empty and although I’m a little jittery, I feel much better. You know the other reason why this is so important to me and why I want all of this to work out (of course, the way I want it to) is because I want to help others to find and experience their own power and joy in life. It IS my main purpose in this life. But how can I help anyone (at least to the level I desire to help them), if I can't help myself and/or cannot truly, deeply believe in what I am teaching!?! ….. By just putting that thought into words, I now realize I have had such a death grip on the outcome of all this, which as I now realize will, in turn, push away what I want (damn life paradoxes). I need to trust, believe, stay in the moment, let go of the outcome, rid myself of negative thoughts and fill myself with as much love as I can. While it's a tall order, I must transform this despair into gratuity. I guess through the process of letting go, accepting myself for where I am (and am not) and getting all of this out of me, I think I'm already on the path to turning this emotional bus around. Thank God!!!
Love to all and thanks for listening/reading,
Jay
P.S. I told you I had become bipolar over all of this! HaHaHa
#4 - July 20th 2012 - 'The Eye of the Storm' - Part two
The next morning I woke up to another beautiful day – and with a rather large smile on my face that was created by the momentous events of the previous day. But today (Sunday, June 24th) was the big day, the one that I had been anticipating for quite some time – the New York City Pride March and because of the previous night’s events I was totally energized. My overall feelings of hope and promise were restored and I was anticipating that this day would bring even more “wonderfulness”. After showering and checking out early I made my way to 34th Street where I was to meet up with the people from Broadway Impact.
Walking in the midst of the massive parade preparations was an amazing experience and I have never seen so many colorful people and rainbows in my life!!! After meeting up with my group and getting my Broadway Impact t-shirt, I spied two actors who I recognized – Rory O’ Malley, the cofounder of Broadway Impact and a costar of “The Book of Mormon” and Andrew Keenan-Bolger, from the cast of “Newsies”. It was fun meeting and talking with them and realizing they both had already amassed so much success at such tender ages. What lovely guys they were! While in the process of picture taking we were called to get in line and begin the parade.
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Walking in the midst of the massive parade preparations was an amazing experience and I have never seen so many colorful people and rainbows in my life!!! After meeting up with my group and getting my Broadway Impact t-shirt, I spied two actors who I recognized – Rory O’ Malley, the cofounder of Broadway Impact and a costar of “The Book of Mormon” and Andrew Keenan-Bolger, from the cast of “Newsies”. It was fun meeting and talking with them and realizing they both had already amassed so much success at such tender ages. What lovely guys they were! While in the process of picture taking we were called to get in line and begin the parade. Gavin Creel / Rory O' Malley, Broadway actors & cofounders of Broadway Impact>> My heart was pounding, because I knew at that moment I was about to make the biggest (non-verbal) proclamation of who I am that I have ever made in my life. What a surreal moment that was!!! Proceeding down 5th Avenue, with the band playing and the crowd cheering, was an unbelievable experience. For the past fifty some years I have hid, pretended, shielded, cloaked and closeted myself at every step of the way. In that one act, at that one moment and in one fell swoop, I threw it all away, exposing myself to thousands upon thousands of people, many of whom were pointing their camera phones and taking pictures of our group. Looking down the street there also were countless professional photographers snapping away for their parent companies. At that point, the die was cast and there was nothing left to do but let go, breathe and go with the flow. It was exhilarating, freeing and fascinating. An air of total acceptance permeated every nook and cranny of Manhattan and the joy so prominent on everyone’s faces was both contagious and intoxicating. While I was totally enjoying myself, at the turning point in the parade route (at 8th Street), I decided to leave the march and became a spectator. The parade was wonderful – and very diverse. It ran the gamut: from touching to raunchy, political to whimsical, and from serious to hysterical. But it was always colorful, dramatic and chock full of beautiful (and usually semi-clad) men. |
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To say the least, I loved everything about the parade and thoroughly enjoyed myself. However, after a couple of hours I had become tired and disengaged. I could tell I had already begun the process of preparing myself emotionally for the journey back home. I could feel my mood deteriorating and my lightheartedness turning heavy. So, I decided to pack it in and head out for Penn Station. By the time I arrived I realized I had tanked emotionally. I was feeling alone, sad and doubtful. The condition was made worse by the fact my iPhone battery was almost dead, so I couldn’t communicate with anyone.
Fortunately, once I got on the train and could connect to electricity, I was able to reconnect with the internet. I immediately logged onto Twitter and (to my delight) discovered that Wayne Dhesi was online even though it was already passed midnight in the UK. As usual, Wayne knew exactly what to say and how to say it and in a relatively short time he was able to deftly get me out of my funk and to renew my faith, hope and optimism. |
(I need to say here that if anyone ready this is thinking about using this site to come out, Wayne, the founder of rucomingout.com, is the most loving, supportive and respectful person you could ever hope for. He is a wonderful man and is doing such good work with this site!) Because of a rather lengthy layover in Philadelphia, the train got into my station very late. By the time my head hit the pillow, it was well after 1:00am and I was exhausted – contented, determined and happy, but exhausted. Unfortunately, this mood would not last, for I very quickly would be reminded that my little hiatus from the cruel winds was over. The storm had progressed and the calm, created by the eye, was no more.
Jay
Jay
#4 - July 5th 2012 - 'The Eye of the Storm' - Part one
If I didn’t know better I would swear I have a bipolar disorder. One moment I am happy and filled with promise, while others I am about as doubting and confused as I could possibly be. I am learning, however, with each passing day that this whole process is more about “how” to be rather than “what” to be. In other words, the gay “topic” is only the conduit by which my fundamental life questions are being expressed. Being the consummate codependent, I have always struggled with boundaries – i.e., where do I leave off and where does the other person begin!?!
Should I now actively pursue gay activities, because this is what I really want to do or should I wait, because this is what my wife and children want me to do? Should I be personally revealing, because this is what my wife has told me she deserves, or should I keep my thoughts to myself, since they tend to be used against me after being expressed (even though she tells me this is not true)!?! I could go on ad nauseum with these diametrically opposing thoughts, feelings and urges, but suffice it to say that there ain’t no rule book when it comes to this stuff – and many times it isn’t fun. How far does one go to be authentic and true to oneself, particularly when those truths hurt “loved one’s” feelings? Quite the codependent dilemma! However, at times, this process ROCKS!!!
From the very beginning I was clear with myself and everyone else about one thing. I was definitely going to New York City Pride 2012. While it had only been a week since we buried our dear friend and even though I knew it would anger my family terribly, I just knew it was something that had to be done – and I did it! As stated previously, so much of this journey has nothing at all to do with being gay. It has to do with me finding and being who and what I really am. This trip was no exception. For the first time in my life, I needed to get on mass transit and go away all by myself – and, boy, what a place to start. With my horrible sense of direction, I chose one of the most complex cities in which to maneuver. Fortunately, a little iPhone app by the name of “iTrans NYC” saved my butt, in more ways than one, and aside from a little confusion in the village one night it served me well.
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The trip began with a ride to the train station, listening to ABBA’s Gold Album. I had to laugh to myself. Just how gay can one get!?! Getting on the train and heading out, I could not help but remember the scene in Funny Girl when Barbra Streisand is singing “Don’t Rain On My Parade” on a train, rushing to see Nicky Arnstein on that boat. I always loved that scene! (And I wondered about my sexual orientation! Really???) Once in New York and settled in my hotel, I set out to Broadway to see Ricky Martin in “Evita”. (BTW, I stayed at The Jane in the village. It once housed some of the Titanic survivors when they first reached New York. It was wonderfully quaint and quite hip. I need to extend a massive thanks to Brett Gleason for that suggestion!) After picking up my ticket for the show, to my huge surprise I was ushered to my front row center seat. I was so excited that I got on the cell and tweeted about it. To my amazement I immediately received the following tweet: “Believe it! Enjoy!” It was from Max Von Essen, the costar of the show – and one of my Twitter follows. I swear it felt like a sign from God, validating that if you dream, become very clear about what you want and launch your desires, they will come true. The show was wonderful and I am now an even bigger fan of Mr. Martin. Not only is he incredibly handsome (He was only ten feet away from me throughout the performance. So, I know!), he is also incredibly talented! Right . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Exiting the Subway on first arrival in NYC |
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After grabbing a quick meal and freshening up at the hotel, I set out for Greenwich Village to see the bars recommended by my Twitter bud, Derek Bishop. After working through a little (who am I kidding, A LOT) of directional dyslexia, I found my way to the Stonewall Inn, which, of course, is where the whole pride movement began in 1969. It was impressive to be there; and it was fun, but I was starting to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge (i.e., alone, looking through a window and watching everyone else having a good time). The feeling was uncomfortable, for it reminded me of adolescence when I was so humiliated at school. (One time when all of my supposed friends had been invited to a party, to which I had not been asked to attend, one of my “closest friends” called me during the party just to make sure I knew I had not been invited. I must say, though, I have had the last laugh, for now a lot of people pay a lot of money to have me in their presence. Suck on that Tim Stoner! HaHaHa)
Despite the emotional, I was determined to not allow this feeling to overtake me. So, I picked up and went to The Monster and The Duplex. The Monster was particularly fun, since one area was devoted to a rather large group of gay men singing show tunes with a (very talented & hot) piano player. While all of the bars were happy and gay (had to go there) they were filled with couples and groups of friends. So, I decided to take a leisurely walk to the subway and go back to my hotel. It was a spectacular evening and I was totally enjoying myself again when I was suddenly distracted by the loud music and laughter coming from a bar I was approaching. I was curious, but my reticence quickly took over and I decided to walk on by. Then it hit me, “What the hell am I doing? This is what I came to New York for. Turn your ass around and go in, you idiot!” And I did.
Despite the emotional, I was determined to not allow this feeling to overtake me. So, I picked up and went to The Monster and The Duplex. The Monster was particularly fun, since one area was devoted to a rather large group of gay men singing show tunes with a (very talented & hot) piano player. While all of the bars were happy and gay (had to go there) they were filled with couples and groups of friends. So, I decided to take a leisurely walk to the subway and go back to my hotel. It was a spectacular evening and I was totally enjoying myself again when I was suddenly distracted by the loud music and laughter coming from a bar I was approaching. I was curious, but my reticence quickly took over and I decided to walk on by. Then it hit me, “What the hell am I doing? This is what I came to New York for. Turn your ass around and go in, you idiot!” And I did.
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Left . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The curtain at Evita
Once inside, I was struck by the lights, the music and (most of all) the joyous crowd, that was being entertained by a person in drag, belting out a Katie Perry song. After adjusting to the lights and the loudness I looked around at a sea of gays all of whom were grooving to Ms. Perry. I was having a good time people watching when my eyes fell onto the most beautiful face I had seen in a very long time. I was mesmerized by that face, which was young, flawless and very sweet. I was transfixed, continuously glancing at him without allowing myself to stare. (The last thing I wanted him to think was that some old guy on the other side of the bar was perving on him.) I was doing okay, when all of a sudden it happened. He started to return my glances. While I was trying to convince myself what I saw was not occurring, his glances were now being accompanied by smiles. “Holy shit, this cannot be happening!” “What do I do now?” I thought. “Move closer to him, you idiot”. So, I did – and to my utter amazement he began to slowly respond in kind. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally met somewhere in the middle of the crowd, smiled at each other and introduced ourselves. His name was Louice. Residing in Iowa he was in New York for the weekend to celebrate Pride with his friends here. At that moment, our conversation was interrupted by the announcement that (what I now know as) their famous amateur striptease contest was about to begin. |
One by one, the presenter announced the contestants. I could not believe my ears when she called Louice to the stage. Apparently, Louice’s buddies convinced him to enter the contest. Blushing as he walked on to the stage, it was evident that he now regretted that decision. Despite his reluctance, Louice was a trouper and ended up stripping his little heart out (so to speak). However, while the other guys’ acts were rather vulgar (albeit highly entertaining), Louice’s performance was flirtatious yet very sweet. The crowd loved him. After he came off stage and had dressed, I handed him a ten dollar bill, as opposed to placing it in his shorts during the performance. He thanked me and smiled widely.
With the contest over (Louice did not win), another drag act was introduced and started to sing a Nicki Minaj song. Louice and I continued our conversation, but it was rather difficult to communicate with each other because of the speakers, that were so loud they were distorting the sound. Although this is usually a pet peeve of mine (I like loud music, but the speakers need to produce no distortion.), this time I did not mind. In fact, I preferred it. Because of the volume, we had to talk directly into each other’s ear. I never knew the slight touch of a lip (and the subtle warmth of a person’s) breath against an ear could be so incredibly intoxicating. At one point, we were so close that I naturally placed my arm around his waist and his non-verbal communication (I am a shrink, remember!?!) indicated his total comfort with this gesture. We talked off and on for quite some time and the experience was sheer heaven. Around 1:45 in the morning one of Louice’s friends came over to tell him their group was leaving the bar. He nodded and said he would be right with them. With that, Louice turned to me, placed both of his hands gently on my upper arms, smiled sweetly, thanked me, kissed me on the check and left.
It was perfection!!!!
For several minutes I just stood there in the middle of the (by now) extremely animated crowd, eyes wide in absolute awe. Another prayer had been answered. At a very deep level and for a very long period of time, I have been terrified that once I left my adopted tribe (the straight community) I would be looked upon with disgust (or worse yet shunned) by my native tribe (the LGBTQ community), particularly regarding anything have to do with matters of sex or sexuality. With God’s gift of this lovely, momentary encounter, I knew everything would be okay, that I could start being optimistic about my future. I wish this wonderful young man was aware of his importance that night. Since he is not, I wish for him all the treasures this world has to offer. That night I went to bed exhausted, but with a smile on my face. The trip had been worth it already – and I still had another day in the Big Apple.
Jay
With the contest over (Louice did not win), another drag act was introduced and started to sing a Nicki Minaj song. Louice and I continued our conversation, but it was rather difficult to communicate with each other because of the speakers, that were so loud they were distorting the sound. Although this is usually a pet peeve of mine (I like loud music, but the speakers need to produce no distortion.), this time I did not mind. In fact, I preferred it. Because of the volume, we had to talk directly into each other’s ear. I never knew the slight touch of a lip (and the subtle warmth of a person’s) breath against an ear could be so incredibly intoxicating. At one point, we were so close that I naturally placed my arm around his waist and his non-verbal communication (I am a shrink, remember!?!) indicated his total comfort with this gesture. We talked off and on for quite some time and the experience was sheer heaven. Around 1:45 in the morning one of Louice’s friends came over to tell him their group was leaving the bar. He nodded and said he would be right with them. With that, Louice turned to me, placed both of his hands gently on my upper arms, smiled sweetly, thanked me, kissed me on the check and left.
It was perfection!!!!
For several minutes I just stood there in the middle of the (by now) extremely animated crowd, eyes wide in absolute awe. Another prayer had been answered. At a very deep level and for a very long period of time, I have been terrified that once I left my adopted tribe (the straight community) I would be looked upon with disgust (or worse yet shunned) by my native tribe (the LGBTQ community), particularly regarding anything have to do with matters of sex or sexuality. With God’s gift of this lovely, momentary encounter, I knew everything would be okay, that I could start being optimistic about my future. I wish this wonderful young man was aware of his importance that night. Since he is not, I wish for him all the treasures this world has to offer. That night I went to bed exhausted, but with a smile on my face. The trip had been worth it already – and I still had another day in the Big Apple.
Jay
#3 - June 22nd 2012 - 'The Storm'
The email to my daughters and son-in-law was sent out at 2:46 p.m. on June 10th. Approximately 3 hours later (which seemed like three weeks), the house phone finally rang. It was my eldest daughter and her husband. While the response from them was not totally accepting, they were as loving and “together” as I could ever have expected. My daughter said that while this revelation would not change her feelings toward me, she would need time to adjust. Fair enough!!! My son-in-law agreed with my daughter’s sentiments completely and gave me complete acceptance. Prior to reaffirming our love for each other and hanging up, my daughter warned me that her sister would need more than time than her. Subsequently, she was encouraging me to give my youngest daughter a lot of space, at least for now. I vowed to heed that suggestion and to honor her need for time.
Less than an hour later however, my mobile phone started ringing. It was my youngest daughter. She too was accepting of my sexual orientation, but she was not nearly as peaceful with the overall situation as was my older daughter. Since this daughter and my wife have always been extremely close, she was terribly concerned for her mother and was therefore extremely protective of her. As a result she applied a significant amount of pressure upon me to slow up, slow down and stop being “so self-absorbed”. “This is not all about you, you know”, she proclaimed. I tried to empathize with her position and to respect everyone’s sensitivities, but at the same time I now realized (after six decades) that I could no longer abandon my own. Therefore, in an effort to find a level-headed balance I decided that I would take some of the pressure off of the gas pedal whilst no longer appling the brakes on my life. My reaction was clearly not what she had wanted (Why should it be? This was all new to her), she did not challenge me overtly. After reaffirming our love for one another we hung up. By the time bed time rolled around several hours later, I was emotionally wrung out – totally spent! However, I was hopeful that when I woke up the next morning the day would provide renewed hope and promise for us all. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Before leaving the house that next morning, the day had already gone to shit. Text responses from the girls reflected a rather dramatic mood shift – and one that was NOT good. Additionally, a text arrived from one of my closest friend's children, stating that my friend (her mother) was now on her death bed. She also revealed that all close family members had gathered at the hospital to help ease her mother into the other world. Given these revelations, I could feel my energy plummet almost instantaneously. All hope for my friend’s survival evaporated and the pain associated with that reality was overwhelming. At that compromised state of mind, the shame and self-loathing that has always accompanied my sexual orientation came rushing to the surface and I could not stop the tidal wave of dark thoughts and negative emotions that washed over me. However, at the same time I knew I could not allow these thoughts and feelings to overtake me, for I still had to face eleven hours of psychotherapy that day. (Anyone who believes we closeted gays are weak of spirit are full of shit!) I was able to suppress these feelings and to do my job; that is, until I returned home from the office and discovered (through an email) that my beloved ‘sister” had died two hours before that. Shit, it was going to be another night, sobbing myself to sleep – alone on the sofa. It was just so much loss at one time!
When others advise closeted gays to come out only (and only) when they are ready, they are speaking pure truth. I now fully realize that I could never, ever have come out any earlier. I simply was too dependent and self-doubting. It would have crushed me! That week I was able (at least able enough) to push aside those losses (and the feelings accompanying them) by diving into my work and taking care of others. By Thursday evening (the formal end of my work week), however, everything came back to me on my arrival home; and it came back to me with a resounding thud. It was made so much worse by the icy coolness I experienced upon walking into the house. My youngest daughter had come home for my friend’s (and her godmother’s) funeral on Saturday. The coldness in that kitchen where they sat was intense. I could feel my energy sinking again – and fast. So, I immediately changed shoes, turned around and went outside for a long, brisk walk. Thankfully, through that experience I was able to regain my center, at least momentarily. The next night, however, would be quite a different matter, for I, unfortunately, totally lost my shit.
Becoming tired of receiving (for what felt like) complete and unrelenting shunning, I could no longer stand it. As a result, I attempted to set a couple of boundaries. Wrong idea, for the tsunami that ensued from that rocket of desire was absolutely astounding! I think by the end of the “discussion”, my daughter had thrown at me every, single solitary judgment I had always heard from my father – and had always feared of hearing from my children. Among these critiques of my character included me being selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, needy, immature, insensitive, nasty, mean, misguided and pompous. The list went on and on. When I attempted to defend myself, I only made matters worse, for it only ramped up the attacks – and it caused my wife to look at me in total confusion. “Why are you being so intense”, my wife asked longingly, while my parentified daughter fought her battle for her. I attempted to leave on several occasions, but was told “There you go, running away again!” They had no idea I was fighting for my very emotional and psychological survival at that point. At that juncture I was too off kilter. So, I stayed, just like I have done since I was a child. In such circumstances, I default to backing down (albeit hostily), apologizing (begrudgingly) and waiting (albeit impatiently) until the “attack” is over. When it was over, I walked away and preoccupied myself with the things required in preparation for the funeral the next morning.
HOLD UP! STOP THAT BUS!
Now, before you get too far along in your anger toward and indignation of my wife and daughter, please consider this. I am NOT the total victim in this situation (much like Adele when referring to that now infamous breakup “I could be such a bitch!”, she admits. HaHa). On the contrary, over the years I have aided, abetted and helped to create the triangulation that has occurred and is now so deeply entrenched within this triad. Furthermore, my daughter had every right to tell me I have been selfish, self-centered and self-absorbed, for I have been all of those things over the years. However, I did not elicit those characteristics because of any personality disorder (I hope!). Rather, it was a result of trying not to be those things that created this condition. In other words, in an effort to not be selfish (so that I might obtain the unconditional love, acceptance and respect that I have never been able to give myself), I put everyone’s happiness above my own. In so doing, I became what I did not want to become and the people closest to me reacted accordingly. Nevertheless, regardless of these lofty analyses, that night in the kitchen and the four days which preceded it had to be the most difficult and heart wrenching ones of my life. So, if you’re listening, God, I have learned my lessons. Nothing like this has to show up in my life again. I GET IT! And to everyone out there, please always be who you really are (as you know it in the moment) and never allow fear to dictate what you need to do for yourself!!!
Jay
Less than an hour later however, my mobile phone started ringing. It was my youngest daughter. She too was accepting of my sexual orientation, but she was not nearly as peaceful with the overall situation as was my older daughter. Since this daughter and my wife have always been extremely close, she was terribly concerned for her mother and was therefore extremely protective of her. As a result she applied a significant amount of pressure upon me to slow up, slow down and stop being “so self-absorbed”. “This is not all about you, you know”, she proclaimed. I tried to empathize with her position and to respect everyone’s sensitivities, but at the same time I now realized (after six decades) that I could no longer abandon my own. Therefore, in an effort to find a level-headed balance I decided that I would take some of the pressure off of the gas pedal whilst no longer appling the brakes on my life. My reaction was clearly not what she had wanted (Why should it be? This was all new to her), she did not challenge me overtly. After reaffirming our love for one another we hung up. By the time bed time rolled around several hours later, I was emotionally wrung out – totally spent! However, I was hopeful that when I woke up the next morning the day would provide renewed hope and promise for us all. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Before leaving the house that next morning, the day had already gone to shit. Text responses from the girls reflected a rather dramatic mood shift – and one that was NOT good. Additionally, a text arrived from one of my closest friend's children, stating that my friend (her mother) was now on her death bed. She also revealed that all close family members had gathered at the hospital to help ease her mother into the other world. Given these revelations, I could feel my energy plummet almost instantaneously. All hope for my friend’s survival evaporated and the pain associated with that reality was overwhelming. At that compromised state of mind, the shame and self-loathing that has always accompanied my sexual orientation came rushing to the surface and I could not stop the tidal wave of dark thoughts and negative emotions that washed over me. However, at the same time I knew I could not allow these thoughts and feelings to overtake me, for I still had to face eleven hours of psychotherapy that day. (Anyone who believes we closeted gays are weak of spirit are full of shit!) I was able to suppress these feelings and to do my job; that is, until I returned home from the office and discovered (through an email) that my beloved ‘sister” had died two hours before that. Shit, it was going to be another night, sobbing myself to sleep – alone on the sofa. It was just so much loss at one time!
When others advise closeted gays to come out only (and only) when they are ready, they are speaking pure truth. I now fully realize that I could never, ever have come out any earlier. I simply was too dependent and self-doubting. It would have crushed me! That week I was able (at least able enough) to push aside those losses (and the feelings accompanying them) by diving into my work and taking care of others. By Thursday evening (the formal end of my work week), however, everything came back to me on my arrival home; and it came back to me with a resounding thud. It was made so much worse by the icy coolness I experienced upon walking into the house. My youngest daughter had come home for my friend’s (and her godmother’s) funeral on Saturday. The coldness in that kitchen where they sat was intense. I could feel my energy sinking again – and fast. So, I immediately changed shoes, turned around and went outside for a long, brisk walk. Thankfully, through that experience I was able to regain my center, at least momentarily. The next night, however, would be quite a different matter, for I, unfortunately, totally lost my shit.
Becoming tired of receiving (for what felt like) complete and unrelenting shunning, I could no longer stand it. As a result, I attempted to set a couple of boundaries. Wrong idea, for the tsunami that ensued from that rocket of desire was absolutely astounding! I think by the end of the “discussion”, my daughter had thrown at me every, single solitary judgment I had always heard from my father – and had always feared of hearing from my children. Among these critiques of my character included me being selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, needy, immature, insensitive, nasty, mean, misguided and pompous. The list went on and on. When I attempted to defend myself, I only made matters worse, for it only ramped up the attacks – and it caused my wife to look at me in total confusion. “Why are you being so intense”, my wife asked longingly, while my parentified daughter fought her battle for her. I attempted to leave on several occasions, but was told “There you go, running away again!” They had no idea I was fighting for my very emotional and psychological survival at that point. At that juncture I was too off kilter. So, I stayed, just like I have done since I was a child. In such circumstances, I default to backing down (albeit hostily), apologizing (begrudgingly) and waiting (albeit impatiently) until the “attack” is over. When it was over, I walked away and preoccupied myself with the things required in preparation for the funeral the next morning.
HOLD UP! STOP THAT BUS!
Now, before you get too far along in your anger toward and indignation of my wife and daughter, please consider this. I am NOT the total victim in this situation (much like Adele when referring to that now infamous breakup “I could be such a bitch!”, she admits. HaHa). On the contrary, over the years I have aided, abetted and helped to create the triangulation that has occurred and is now so deeply entrenched within this triad. Furthermore, my daughter had every right to tell me I have been selfish, self-centered and self-absorbed, for I have been all of those things over the years. However, I did not elicit those characteristics because of any personality disorder (I hope!). Rather, it was a result of trying not to be those things that created this condition. In other words, in an effort to not be selfish (so that I might obtain the unconditional love, acceptance and respect that I have never been able to give myself), I put everyone’s happiness above my own. In so doing, I became what I did not want to become and the people closest to me reacted accordingly. Nevertheless, regardless of these lofty analyses, that night in the kitchen and the four days which preceded it had to be the most difficult and heart wrenching ones of my life. So, if you’re listening, God, I have learned my lessons. Nothing like this has to show up in my life again. I GET IT! And to everyone out there, please always be who you really are (as you know it in the moment) and never allow fear to dictate what you need to do for yourself!!!
Jay
#2 - June 15th 2012 - 'Batten Down The Hatches'
Well, I have just come out (totally) to my wife. I have never been so scared in my life! While my intellect and intuitions knew that she was already aware of my sexual orientation, my emotions were running rampant when I sat down to have “the talk”. To more thoroughly understand that last statement, I have to go back approximately 21 years – briefly (don’t worry).
In 1991 I had been in counseling for quite some time. In therapy I was able to get in touch with the fact that I “may” be gay. At that time, I shared that reality with my wife. Of course, she was devastated, fearful and VERY angry. Interestingly, one of our very best friends, who also was aware of my struggles, asked her “Didn’t you know this when you were dating him?” She responded, “Yes, but I forgot!” While I found this to be a rather confusing statement, it did help me to know that she, at some level, had always know but chose to deny it – just like I had. It also somehow eased my sense of, for even though I had been a charlatan, she was a willing actor in the play.
Although I was drawn to exploring the gay aspects of my personality, the thought of abandoning my wife and two small children was simply too much to endure. At that juncture (in retrospect), I ramped up my eating, smoking and working. I also sought out (and received) my first prescription for Ativan, a numbing-out agent I continued uninterrupted until three months ago.
Fast forward to last fall. (I think this is the time frame, but I’m not totally sure.) In a discussion I was having with my wife in the autumn of 2011, the opportunity arose when I was able to confirm my sexuality; and I was able to reassure her that had no plans to do anything about it. (Damn fear will cause you to lie to yourself – and others every time!)
So, two weeks ago when I sat down (in my mind) to reaffirm my “gayness” to her, I felt rather pleased with myself that I had (at the very least) treated her with as much respect as I could muster (and at) each step along the way. Because of that belief I had hoped that she would accept this final verification gracefully. Wrong!!! Unfortunately, there was one variable I had overlooked - denial. I had suppressed the remark made by her 21 years ago - “Yes I knew, but I forgot.” She had “forgotten” again – and she was not happy. In fact, she was furious when I my surprise to her, proclaiming “You just want to believe that so you feel better!” Not knowing what to do next, I shut down and we both moved to our respective areas of the house.
The next day we learned that the mother of one of our very best friends had died. While our friend’s mother was almost 97 years old when she died, it was the second parent of his to die, which is always a difficult to experience for any child. Concurrently, we learned that our beloved “adopted sister” had suffered a stroke and was lying unconscious in a hospital in Ohio. While these were terribly painful occurrences, they did serve (at least temporarily) to divert our attention away from our own marital issues. Unfortunately for my wife the forward motion for a life of my personal authenticity had progressed too far and could, therefore, no longer be stopped. I simply had to keep keeping on. I could no longer deny, suppress, repressed, medicate, smoke, eat and work this energy any longer (sometimes to my frustration).
While all of this highly charged energy was swirling around me, I was at the same time working with Wayne at rucomingout to make the final changes to my first blog entry. Although I was scared as hell, I gave Wayne to green light to post my first article for June 8th. As you know, it hit the web site the following day. Originally, I had gone to Wayne (who is the most marvelous human being one can encounter) about this blog because I figured if I’m going to go through all of this fear and pain, I might as well make it worthwhile - and in a broader sense (beyond just me). In other words, if a young person can read about an old fart coming out even though (because of his age) he may be rejected by the very tribe that he is reaching out to, certainly a young, attractive person could do it. Additionally, if a 60 year old guy can toss it all up to the universe (i.e., let go) certainly, a 40 or 50 year old could do it. And, by the way, this journey is so much more than being straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual and/or transgender.
This journey we are all experiencing is about discovering and creating who you are and learning how to successfully grapple with the fears that keep us from doing just that. I once read a different definition of heaven and hell, which, to me, is so much more love-based than the ones I was given in my fundamental Protestant Sunday school. Instead of defining these terms as being places we are sent to after death, they are, conversely, places of being created in the here-and-now on earth. As such, ‘hell’ is defined as a state of being created by living a life commensurate with who you really are. ‘Heaven’, on the other hand, is a state of being when your life is an adequate reflection of who and what you are – at least at the moment. (It always changes and needs to be continuously updated.) Personally, if I can be of any assistance to someone on their own journey, my own experiences would be mad much more meaningful. But I digress!!!
Now that my wife knows that I am gay and that I will no longer suppress that part of who I am, it is time to share my reality with my two lovely daughters (who are 30 and 27 years old) and my son-in-law (who is more my son than an in-law). Coming out in my own time frame is the most important variable, I know, but it is not the only variable. I must also be sensitive to the feelings of others that I love the most. As such, I NEVER/EVER want to place ANYONE in that damn closet, for it is simply too painful. But how do I prepare myself for this fete? Remembering that one must first “get right” with oneself before any course of action is undertaken, I realized I needed to plug in my iPod and inundated myself with the law of attraction – and a lot of Rufus Wainwright. (I freaking love him!) Finally, I felt personally “centered” and ready to proceed – but how??? I wanted to do this face-to-face, but because of geography that was going to be impossible. Skype? No, that didn’t feel right either. After sleeping on it, I finally woke up with the solution – write one letter, email it to all three and immediately send out a group text, telling them about the email.
Heart racing, hands shaking and brain buzzing from adrenaline, I sat down at the computer and just let the words flow. After two pages and concluding that I had communicated what was in my heart, I started to proof and edit. (I’m a Capricorn, so things must be perfect.) I had only gotten through the second sentence when I though “Shit! This is my truth - raw and uncut (no pun intended). Stop altering it!” After the email and texting setup was completed, I sat there staring at the screen and (most importantly) the send button. The memories of other gay coming out stories came rushing to the surface. By extending my index finger and touching that button, I will change my life forever – and there is absolutely no going back. You cannot say, “Oh, I made a mistake. I’m not gay”. Nope, at that point the show is over, kids!
What came to me next was, “What the hell. If nothing changes, nothing will ever change!!!” The time has come. The hell with safety and ‘knowns’, for they have been killing me. With that, I took a deep breath and hit send. God, the silence was deafening and I don’t think I have ever felt so alone in my entire life, but the die had been casted and there was no turning back now.
Jay
#1 - June 8th 2012 - 'The Calm Before the Storm'
I sit here alone in my thoughts, about to make the biggest proclamation of my life. I am a sixty year old married man, who has two grown daughters and a grandchild on the way - and I now fully realize that I am gay! There I’ve said it. I am gay! Today marks the first day of my own personal coming out journey, at least overtly. (Covertly, the process has been going on for, oh, about sixty years.) I am scared shitless, for the future looks like a huge abyss to me, but I must enter the unknown if I am ever to find my joy. So that I might find deeper meaning out of this, I have decided to share my story publically. While I plan to be completely out some day, right now I need to do it gradually and with as much personal centeredness as I can muster.
Prior to working on my first rucomingout.com blog entry, I came across these words from Kristopher Raphael. “Expressing who you are and doing what you love is living an authentic life. Not only does living a life of authenticity attract wonderful people, situations and things into your life, it is the most fulfilling way of living you can do. So how do you begin? Begin by asking yourself, is this who I am or who I am not. Then choose to express who you are. In the beginning, you may not always know what is the authentic you in a situation. Or, you may find it difficult to express your authenticity. Do your best. As you begin to express your authenticity, even just a little, it will have a large positive impact on your life, and life rushes in to support you.”
God (literally), I hope this is true. I have been/am so many things, son, husband, father, psychologist, friend and business partner. (Have I mentioned that I am going to be a grandfather soon!?!) However, there has been one role that has always eluded me – being me, authentically me. Raised in a fundamentalist Protestant family (and community), I was taught to believe in the sanctity if what is right and wrong, good and bad, saintly and evil. Sunday school would serve to be my first and most impressionable acting class. Be this. Don’t be that. Do this. Don’t do that. And I was a very good student. I accepted the script I was handed and honed my “good boy” role to the hilt. However, the nagging feeling that I was different (and not in a good way) never evaporated, regardless of how dutiful I became. My father, who was the stereotypical 18-wheeler truck driver of the 50’s, made sure any residual “differences” (i.e., “sissy-ness”) were adequately highlighted and publically ridiculed.
Late adolescence and early adulthood were challenging and confusing times, but eventually my “straight side” won out; and by the time I was thirty, I had everything I set out to acquire– a wife, a child, a wonderful circle of friends, a thriving professional career, a house, two cars and a dog. But something was terribly wrong. Regardless of my accomplishments, I always ended up feeling empty, lonely, frustrated and angry. To deal with these unwanted feelings, I did whatever self-respecting psychologist would do – I got my ass into therapy. While the counselor was able to help me eliminate enough personal shame so that I could start seeing at myself for who and what I truly was, as opposed to what I should be, he did not have the ability to help me accept what I unearthed. (If he could have done this, I was probably too scared to take this guidance anyway. So, he did his best and, I guess, so did I.) At that point, in sheer frustration I quit therapy and turned to cigarettes, Ativan, food and compulsive working to avoid and to fill the huge void in me.
In many ways, life was good for a while and a lot of milestones were realized. Graduations, engagements, a marriage and ongoing professional success helped to divert and avoid personal heartache. Then something happened to rock my world. I quit smoking. Being (at least) a two pack a day smoker, I was able to numb out, suppress and just get by. Without the Salems I could no longer deny my emotions (or to suppress them) and they spontaneously and uncontrollably began to surface; and they were quite intense and very painful. One weekend when my wife was away on a trip to visit our oldest daughter and her husband, I watched the move “The Trip” and everything changed. One scene showed two young men (of my generation) falling in love – and it hit HARD. I finally knew experientially (rather than simply intellectually) who I was innately. I sobbed for the remainder of that weekend, which happens to be exactly four years ago, on another Memorial Day weekend. (I am writing this blog on Memorial Day 2012.) I have not stopped crying since that night in 2008. However, I chose to do this outside of anyone’s sight or hearing, which as an old way of coping I learned as toddlerhood.
While I have not been having a lot of fun over the past several years, there have been many positives; and I have done a lot of preparatory work that has gotten me to this point in my life. First and foremost, I have worked on altering my very negative view of God. I now see (at least an ever-increasing side of me sees) God in a much more loving way. I have done a lot of reading and have begun to support a number of LGBT charities. (The Trevor Project is the dearest to my heart). I also have become an active member of Twitter. This may, on the surface, sound like an odd contributing factor to my coming out, but the experiences I have had on Twitter have allowed me to learn how to communicate with other gay men and to observe other gay men communicating with each other. In the process (and in a strange way), I have grown quite fond of a few of these Twitter “friends”. Jack Hawitt, Richard Parnell-Page, Jeffery Straker, Brett Gleason and (especially) Derek Bishop are the openly gay male artists who have both inspired and taught me how to be this “new man”.
I also need to add another person to that list. His name is Steven and he and his partner, Steve, (no shit – “Steve and Steve”) have been my friends for many years. Only today he now knows that I bat for the same team as he, so to speak. I could not have asked for more love and acceptance than I have received from Steven. His support has allowed me to finally face myself openly, which has allowed me to contact Wayne at rucomingout.com and to commence this blog. I plan to let you all in on my personal coming out experience and as it happens. I have read so many accounts of what the process is like for men much younger than I, but I have never come across anyone in my unique circumstance, which has fostered so many feelings of isolation and separateness. Regardless of these factors I now know I must forge ahead, for to revert back to my old ways of doing things will most assuredly kill me, both physically as well as emotionally.
So, here I go! I am finally jumping off of that damn cliff. Now, I must face my wife and kids. Wish me luck! While I fear the possible anger, bitterness, and disappointment that may come my way from these three exceptionally important people in my life, I must move forward and thwart fear from my controlling every aspect of my life. I also want/need to do this for my future grandchild, for I want him/her to proud of “Grandpa” and to not be ashamed of his lack of courage. Nevertheless, while I am strong at the moment, I will undoubtedly need to continuously remind myself of those wise philosophers who have assured us that when we are very clear about what we want, the heavens conspire to give to us our greatest desires. Is this the law of the universe or a huge lie? Stay tuned. We will all find out together.
Jay
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