So I imagine my facebook post brought
you here... since I haven't posted in this blog for ages... haha.
Anyway, not sure how to start this... I haven't exactly done this
before. First of all, I'm using the term “gay” rather than
same-sex attracted because I think that's a silly term. I've never
called anyone opposite-gender attracted.
Anyway... I've felt the need to do this
for a while now. So far with almost every single person I've told
the thought has come to me, “ya... I should have told them
sooner...” So I need to stop postponing and tear off this band-aid.
I guess I'll start with a nutshell version of my life, cuz... why
not?
So I've known I was different since I
was little. My earliest memories of recognizing same-gender
attraction go back as early as second grade. Of course, lucky for
me, I was too distracted by Batman, Dinosaurs, and Turtles of the
Ninja variety to dwell on anything for too long. Elementary School
was when I learned the Gay was wrong and that Gay people got made fun
of. If any of you knew me back then, I wasn't exactly the Brawny Man
of my class. I was twiggly, good at gymnastics, and probably
interested in too many “traditionally” girly things for society
back then. I was teased a bit. One group called me “Pony Boy,”
whatever that even meant... but luckily things weren't too bad. I
had friends. And like I said, I was distracted by other radical
things.
Middle School was a little different.
I still had friends, and I can't even explain how grateful I am for
them, but the teasing got bad. I think that's pretty standard for
that age group. But this was when I learned I needed to adapt. No
more letting people know I could do the splits. No more letting
people know I danced with a performing group that toured Disney Land
in elementary school. No more letting people see my sensitive side.
I was terrified of being called “Gay.”
Anytime I started wondering if I was
gay I would shut it down. No joke, there were times I would stare at
myself in the mirror and say, out loud, “You. Are. Not. Gay.”
(Which should have been a bit of a red flag... I mean, I don't think
straight people spend THAT much time wondering if they are gay...).
Of course I didn't want to be gay. The Church taught me that not
only was being gay bad (and no, they didn't ever differentiate
between feelings and acting on them, gay was gay), they also used
terms like “unnatural,” “gross,” “vile,” “disgusting,”
and “perverted.” So anytime I had any sort of temptation or
same-sex related feelings I quickly learned to hate myself. Hating
myself was the only way to cope. Any of those feelings I had were
clearly unnatural, gross, vile, disgusting, and perverted. Therefor
I was a sinner. Therefor I had to hate myself. Not exactly a
healthy pattern. But a pattern that continued well into my twenties.
In High School I finally figured out
how to wear a mask (for the most part). I discovered I needed to
have crushes on girls. So I would always find a girl that would be
my go to “crush.” But I always made sure it was a girl I didn't
have any classes with and hardly ever saw. I even decided that my
default celebrity crush was Shakira. I stand by that decision.
Fortunately my High School friends were
fairly strict Mormons and didn't date until 16. And then once you
finally turn 16 it was mostly just fun friend dating anyway. By the
end of High School when they were dating a little more seriously I
did it too. I wanted to date. I wanted to find a girl I could fall
in love with. I dated an amazing girl that made me feel great about
myself. She was kind, sweet, funny, beautiful and caring. Pretty
sure we dated for like... 5 months? I never even kissed her. Just
never had the urge. It made me mad I didn't have that urge. I
wanted to want to kiss her. She was amazing. I convinced myself I
must have just been too nervous. But I'd later discover that it
didn't matter who it was. The urge just wasn't there if it was a
girl.
High School was good though. I didn't
really get bullied. I had the world's greatest friends (which I was
careful to find platonic friends, they were more like brothers to
me). And I wasn't too worried about being gay. I recognized that I
had same-gender attraction, but I KNEW that God would fix me if I
tried hard and served a good mission. How could He not? The
scriptures say he fulfills the righteous desires of your heart.
Marrying a woman and starting a family was about as “righteous”
as it gets. Plus I found talks, pamphlets, and lessons that taught
that God could cure people with same-gender attraction. Through the
Atonement, I could be fixed.
So I served a mission and loved it. I
loved the Mongolian people. I loved Mongolia. I loved learning the
language and teaching English. I loved that my mission was one of
the rare few that didn't allow knocking doors. I had an amazing
experience. Were there trials? Well, yes. Duh. But I loved it.
And on the mission you don't really get to think much about dating
and marriage. So that was nice. Though I did start snail mail
flirting with one of my best friends back home (shhhh), figuring I'd
date her when I got home and things with girls would finally start to
click. She's pretty much the same person as me, you know,
hilarious... brilliant... talented.... psychedelic... you get the
picture, so I figured if I could make it work with anyone it would be
her. Long story short, she ended up being the first person I ever
told I was gay. And for the record, we are not married.
So, got home from the mission, and this
is when things started going down hill. I transferred to BYU and was
ultra-righteous. I'm talking count-how-many-steps-I-took-on-Sunday
righteous. I read scriptures daily. Paid full tithing and generous
fast offerings. Went to church weekly. Did Home Teaching. I was a
gold star Mormon. The First Presidency literally sent me a Gold Star
sticker to put on my scriptures. Okay that's not true.
And I dated as much as I could handle.
I started adopting the “fake it til you make it” approach to
girls. I figured if I constantly talked about how pretty girls are
and how much I like them and how they smell amazing and man oh man if
I could just meet Shakira someday, then I'd legitimately start
growing attracted to girls. I dated many girls with AMAZING
personalities that I had a lot of fun with. But there was never that
needed “spark.” I dated one that on paper should have been
perfect for me. But something was always missing. I later attended
her wedding, and when she danced with her new husband for the first
time as a married couple, I remember seeing how they looked at each
other. I knew right then, I could never have been that for her. I
could never have provided that moment.
As I continued to date, life got darker
and darker. I grew more and more hopeless. I had to get on
anti-depressants as I was getting closer and closer to doing
something stupid and harmful to myself. I grew to hate myself more
and more. And I got to the point that I wanted God to hate me too.
I remember staring at a hymn book, glaring at the song “Where Can I
Turn For Peace” and sincerely feeling like the answer was “no
where.” I prayed and prayed and fasted and prayed and got nothing.
God had forgotten me. God didn't care about me. Those were the
only solutions I could manage to come up with.
One day, this peculiar thought hit me;
“What if I'm SUPPOSED to be this
way...?”
I felt immediate weight lifted from me.
The next morning I was able to stop taking anti-depressants, cold
turkey, and never got back on them. A new wave of light and hope
filled my body. I felt like this was a part of who I am. And it
didn't feel like a bad thing. I didn't feel guilty. For the first
time in a long time I felt... good.
Since then I started the process of
SLOWLY coming out to people. Each time was terrifying, much like it
is right now. While I'm typing this my heart is racing, so when I
actually post this... I'm probably going to be running around the
house screaming into a pillow.
I've felt more and more prompted to
come out. It's been stressing me out for long enough.
What does this mean for my future? I
have no idea. I'm not one to shut doors. All I know is this doesn't
change who I am. I'm still the same ol' Jon you all know and
OBVIOUSLY love (winky-face). I know many of you have strong opinions
about homosexuality, same-sex marriage, etc., and I just hope we can
be civil, loving, and respectful no matter where we stand on these
issues. I also hope that if there is anyone else struggling with
this and feels they have no where to turn and no one to talk to they
always have a friend in me. It was Hell going through this alone. I
wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Well, that's all I have to say. Feel
free to ask questions if you have them. I'm trying to be more open
and authentic in my life. Thanks for reading. Peace.
