Heavy Heart

Dear Mom,

I wanted to respond to your other arguments. I wanted to point out fallacies and ask you questions in response to your claims. But I don't have the energy to do so. 

I have only one thought to share with you.

I am human. I am not what you want me to be. I am just me: imperfect, flawed, and messed up. I want to be sweet and loving, kind and caring, funny and full of laughter, and always there for you. 

I love you always.

Your son,
Heartbroken

Reasons

Mom,
 
You are a remarkable woman that stands as an amazing example to me and provides many lessons for me to learn. For that I am grateful to you. Your years of experience in life are ones that I do not doubt have a wealth of wisdom to guide me in life. I hope to have the opportunity in future years to continuously go to you for advice. But even with that said I know that you are not perfect and definitely no where near close to that definition, as I am not as well. 

You are my mother, a person I will honor all my life. You have taught me such lessons as the importance of moral decency, honesty, integrity, charity, humility, and compassion to those that need it most of all. You have taught me to trust, love, and work hard. You have instilled in my very soul the value of learning, of seeking truth and wisdom, of having fun, and of trying new things and stepping outside my comfort zone. I continuously strive each day to apply these lessons more fully in my life. 

Even though you do not like or approve of what I think and feel, I must still do what I think (and not just feel) is right. There is a difference in my mind between what makes me happy or feels good/wonderful/etc and what I consider to be right. When you accuse me of doing what makes me feel good/wonderful/whatever I feel that you are suggesting I am merely walking this path because it strikes a chord with some carnal or lustful nature within me. That couldn't be farther from the truth.  My decision is not based on some purely hormonal or emotional basis. To do so would mean that I am merely an animal and I do not believe you taught me to be that way. Let me ask you, have I ever been like that? I would think you would state that as emotional as I can get at times, I am also very analytical and a lover of knowledge and wisdom. I do not jump into most things without some forethought and consideration on the matter.

That it took me nine years after I realized I was gay to finally embrace this part of my soul should be evidence that I am very careful and thoughtful in my approach to such a serious matter. That I submit my new thinking towards religion and theism as well as atheism to rigorous contemplation and research should also be a sign that I am serious about what I do. That I am willing to discuss this with you and even invite you to help me believe should show that I am not some lazy creature that seeks the easy way in life. That you have chosen to do virtually nothing on your part to discuss this topic is not my fault and I am not to be condemned for acting as I find to be correct and right. You are still more than welcome to invite me to read articles, discuss religious topics, and especially to bear your testimony to me with all the energy and Spirit you can bring to bear upon me. I still extend that invitation to you for the remainder of my undergraduate schooling.

My decisions are based on what I think, feel, and have experienced as being right. I can do no more than that and in fact to do less than that would be a terrible wrong that I would then be committing. On my mission we taught the same thing to those people we invited to hear the Gospel. We invited them to pray, ponder, and investigate. When it came to deciding on whether to come out, I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before. I pondered deeply, investigated carefully, and, again, prayed while on my knees and while walking. I poured my heart out to know what to do. I begged and pleaded until I cried. I wrestled over this issue both in times of joy and depression. So I cannot help but repeat: I did not come to this decision lightly. I still examine how I am doing in this new mindset of mine. I submit myself to a question I investigate very deeply on a yearly basis, "Am I truly happy?" You would recognize this question as being similar in thought to the familiar scripture "wherefore by their fruits, ye shall know them" (Matthew 7:20). It is one standard that I use to determine through the course of my life.


You asked me to not mock your beliefs. I ask you to not mock or ridicule the process that led me to this conclusion. Mutual respect is essential if we are to accomplish the task of building bridges between us and respect is truly a two-way street. With that written, I apologize for mocking your deeply held beliefs. I was wrong in doing that and know better.

Another Day

Mom,

Our conversation on Tuesday left me feeling frustrated. I don't know what happened to the woman that was willing to discuss more openly about my "temptations" and my perceptions of the Gospel, but I would like for her to return. I want to be able to have an open and honest conversation with you. After all, I feel as though I should be able to come to you for advice and to be able to share what is going on in my life. Why is this so difficult for you and I to talk about? Perhaps I did something that shifted your openness to talk with me. Perhaps I have offended you in some way that I didn't realize. Perhaps it has nothing to do with me.

I'll confess that I feel like I don't know what to do next in regards to preparing you for what's going to take place in my life after graduation. But perhaps I was wrong in thinking I needed to prepare you. Maybe I should just let you face all that's gonna happen without my trying to soften the blow. Perhaps I was being selfish trying to talk to you about these things in advance. If so, then my deepest of apologies for doing that to you.

I feel as though I must surrender my desire to ease the shock that is likely to happen in the months that are rapidly approaching. I feel as though I've done all I can to help you but you are not interested in it. Please note that this letter has been written with heavy sighs and with a feeling of helplessness. I can only hope that somehow something will change in the time to come that will leave you more willing to talk to me. But I fear that pride, disapproval, confusion, or hurt will somehow turn you away from me. I know you said you loved me, and I love you in return, but I fear that you will still turn away from me and I must admit that that saddens me so much. But what more can I do? 

I won't do so in this letter, but I do want to respond in detail to your arguments and claims in our conversation the other day. For now, know always I love you very much and think fondly on you.


Your Son,
Heartbroken

A Return to the Past

Dear Mom,

Suicide.

That word conjures up memories staggering in pain and bitterness. This is a subject, Mom, that I realize will be difficult considering your history and the history of our family. Bear with me as you read this. It is of vital importance that you do so. 

I love you, as I have shared in the past, and nothing will ever change that. But what has changed is what I now believe to be right. My commitment to truth, courage, and love all remains the same. But what happened nearly a year and a half ago was something that could not have been foreseen. You could not have prevented it, so if you have any feelings of guilt, shed them now. The time had long before arrived when I had to take responsibility for my own actions, safety, and future. Though I shirked that responsibility, it was still mine and mine alone to bare. Understand that, please.

Back then, I was slowly succumbing to death in body, mind, and spirit. Everything that you knew about me was slowly fading, disappearing into nothing. I wish to share with you the entry that I had in a blog back then that captures how I felt. Please read and understand that things had truly gone wrong in my life at that point and everything that followed after (even now) are all attempts to change myself for the better.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

The Thoughts of a Fool

I wish I wasn't writing this but I feel I must. I think it's high time I discuss some of the other issues that I struggle with. I call it sorrow because I haven't been diagnosed with depression or anything (just General Anxiety Disorder). When I was a sophomore/junior in high school, I unfortunately began to perform self-mutilation on myself. I didn't use a razor or a knife (thought about it) but used a pencil because it was discreet. My parents never found out about it and I eventually managed to overcome my need for it by finding healthier ways to work through my problems.

It appears I haven't learned my lesson.

Unfortunately, after 5-6 years I have cut myself again. As I sit on the computer there are four angry red slashes across my right forearm. I cried and I cried today feeling like an utter failure (these feelings have not passed). It frightens me to the point that I don't know what to do. I feel utterly and completely lost and I feel like no one even notices.

It seems like unless I make a sound I am forgotten and not even needed. But enough on that. Unfortunately, there is something else that haunts me now. Over the past six-seven months, the usual suicide thoughts that came about once or twice every few months (or even a year) have become more frequent to the point of occurring several times a week. I feel emotionally taxed already alongside a bad ability to handle stress, worn out from constant school work and just working to find ways to solve my financial situation. I believe that the suicide thoughts are still at the stage of harmless but are alarming nonetheless.

I don't know what to do. I need help. But it feels like everything in my life is just falling apart...and I can't seem to stop it. I'm terrified that if this isn't crisis mode yet that I won't be able to handle crisis mode.

I apologize for these remarks. I feel like such an utter failure.

 I am glad that I have changed. I do not regret any of my decisions since then. I have thought through a lot and have come to accept and love who I am. But, I am not finished with this letter. I have a poem to share from October of 2008 that captured how I felt during my first breakdown that lasted for two weeks. You didn't want to understand what it was about when I first shared it with you. Maybe in light of the blog post, you'll be more willing to accept that I was falling apart?

Upon the Ground

Sometimes things break,
Shatter,
Fall apart.
Single unity once displayed
Becomes several parts of a whole,
Equal,
Separate,
Same.
The loss of the singular
Can devastate the holder,
Weeping,
Sobbing,
Clinging to the broken pieces
Like a child to a broken favorite toy;
Wishing for an impossible dream, and
Unable to stop reality
In its cold,
Merciless,
Uncaring walk over such shattered dreams.

Where is the answer that undoes reality, and
Brings back the fragile,
Frail,
Malleable,
Temporal elements that once gave form to
All hopes and dreams?
Perhaps the many can pull together and be
One,
Whole,
Singular again.

Like light fragmented,
Splintered,
Scattered by a prism,
But continuously the same,
Eternally,
Unendingly,
Unfailingly one in its purpose and
Course:
So too can broken things be healed,
Reunited,
Salvaged.

Temporal things are like fractured light:
Scattered for a moment,
Yet eternally one.
Weep not over loss,
Sorrow,
Pain, for they are scattered.
But in time, unending time,
Unity is to be not denied
Its domain.

Cry no more and gather,
Collect,
Reunite those broken pieces.
They cannot deny their
Eternal design,
Calling,
Purpose.

 Please, I'm begging you with all the energy in my body, understand what I'm trying to say here. I am not some selfish, sexual creature that cares only about what his hormones tell him. I am human, with thoughts and feelings. More importantly, I am your son and not some stranger. Read these words and feel the force of my emotions. This is not some game. It's life and I am doing what I think is right. All the sterile debates in the halls of academia and theology cannot measure up to the totality of experience, feeling, and thought in one person's life. See me for who I am and not what you want me to be.


I love you always,
Your son

My Bright Joy

Dear Mom,

The words I cannot speak to you in person, I write to you in pros with the hope that one day they will reach you and touch your heart. They are not capable of doing so now, this I realize, but it is my hope that time will soften your words. Let not my choices harden your heart against me but rather let a mother's desire to understand and love her child overtake you. That is my plea.

What words can I communicate to you now that have not already been spoken? How about the words that I dare not speak. Those words, if i were to say it, would spell out the fear that I cannot name: death. The darkness that I speak of is one that follows the long and slow descent into a depression that seals off the doors to optimism, hope, and a brighter future. The thief would strip me of all humanity and therefore deprive you of your son. That fear of mine is why I do not wish to ignore my self any longer. When I ignore who I am, I invite death to come closer, a death by my own hand.

How tragic. How utterly dismal an ending to this life: cut short by the one that is alive. I have stood on the brink of that darkness and even taken a few very dangerously slippery steps down that last of all descents. I can safely say that I do not ever wish to approach that darkness again. I became familiar with it, too familiar with it. I pitied it and grew comfortable with it all while fading away. Let not death come no more by my own hand. Rather, let life draw nearer.

I will never find joy down the paths that you think right. Hopefully by the time you read this, you'll understand what I know now. I am happy right now. I am happy with where I'm at and happy to know a fraction of what life has to offer. Dearest Mother, believe me. My heart beats for my own gender by some bizarre unknown that cannot be accounted for right now. But look beyond that and see how bright my happiness is and my hope. Is not that enough? Let not your desire to save my soul overtake your common sense and compassion. It is my hope to find someone to invite into my life forever and to be invited into his life forever. I hope to build a family with him and to share my life with him through all the many twists and turns, for better or worse, and for richer or poorer. To laugh and cry with. How can that be wrong? Perhaps, when you read this you'll understand that there was never a choice to abandon my "homosexuality" but rather a choice to live or die.

You cannot escape who you are forever. You can only delay the inevitable or remove the spark of life that lies inside of you. I chose to make that spark grow brighter and I do not feel guilty about that. Not at all. Not ever.

I love you, Mom,
Your Son

To Love and Be Required to Let Go

Dear Mom,

I want to share with you about some of the strange pain that I feel while at BYU. In keeping with the Honor Code, you know that I cannot date other men. I want you to know that I look forward to the day when this self-imposed prison is at last removed and I can stand in the full light of freedom. In those days, I will have already chosen to ask men out on dates with the purpose that one day I will find someone to spend the rest of my life with in service and love. 

But that day has not arrived. No, rather, today I am planning to return to BYU in the fall to begin what I expect to be my last year of undergraduate work. I will return to what has come to feel like the walk of shame. Each and every day I see couples walk hand in hand. They are beautiful couples and I smile easily when I see how happy they are together. I am happy for them. I am happy for all those couples choosing to make commits of faithfulness and love to each other. I wish them all the opportunity and chances to succeed in those commitments. But I know that if I were to ask for the same opportunity I would be denounced, hated, and verbally and emotionally spit upon. I know that they would not rejoice in the same way that I rejoice in their relationships. 

See, I may not be allowed to date while at BYU but that does not change the reality that I still develop crushes on other men. I cannot help the fact that my heart wants to feel and that I desire to truly be human. Such a shame, I know. I cannot seem to turn off my heart or shut away my feelings. Last school year, I developed a crush on another guy. I knew nothing would come of it but my heart still yearned as it does and I was helpless to do anything about it. My friends became worried for me; afraid I'd make the tragic mistake of getting involved with that man and thus screwing myself over at BYU. I am grateful for their kindness but I cannot remove the sting I still feel from that memory. But the cruelest comment of all came from one woman in particular. She once told me that she hoped that I failed in my relationships with men. I understood where she was coming from. Being gay was wrong, sinful. She hoped that somehow I would repent and come to God and the Church. 

I still wanted to cry.

When my heart skips a beat or my breath is stopped when the guy I like says something or stands close to me, the words of my friends and those around me echoes in my ear. My heart is twisted already by the yearning to love, to reach out in hopes of being loved in return, and the knowledge that such would only hurt me because of the school I am at. I feel hurt and confused. I honestly don't know what to make of this. I feel like I am taking a dagger to my own heart and twisting it.
 
Beyond that, there are no words of happiness anyone wouldwish to extend me. Will you ever speak words of kindness and hope that I find someone to love? Or will you express "loving the sinner, and hating the sin" syndrome? Let me explain to you this, it is the cruelest thing of all. I would rather have them hate me then mock me with kindness. I am a second class citizen to them. I am somehow subhuman in their eyes. The cruelty of their mockery is that it is wrapped in some kind of nicety. I want to vomit. 

It is the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life: to love another and know I can do nothing about it. My heart is bound by my own decision. For every love I possess towards another, I must ignore it with all my might lest I break BYU's rule of falling in love and being loved in return. No amount of words can convey the anguish that my heart feels and there is nothing, it seems, that can truly soothe it.

That, and that most of all, leaves me bitter towards BYU and the Church.


I want to love and be loved in return. I want to have the opportunity to mean something to someone and for someone to mean something to me. At the end of a hard day who do I have to turn to for solace and love? No one. If I had someone it would be equal to being expelled. How tragic...

So what will you do, Mom? When I am finished with school and am free to date, what will you say? Will you breathe the same insanity that I have heard here, "I hope you fail in finding love"? If so, spare me and just don't say it. I doubt I would ever be able to hold back the tears after you have so stabbed me in the heart like that. 


Your son always,
Hopeful

Your Children

Dear Mom,

I never realized how hard it is for you in all of this. A friend of mine helped me realize that you are still grieving over the loss of so much. What must it be like to be in your shoes? I have been so selfish these past couple of years focusing on trying to come to grips with who I am and wanting you to see this that I forgot what you are going through. I am a terrible for this.


I have never been able to fully comprehend the loss that you have felt and continue to feel since Grandma and Grandpa passed away nearly eight years ago. My relationship to them was never really wonderful and I was most definitely not close to them. I preferred to love Grandma and Grandpa with as much distance as possible between us. Grandma always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me want to yell at her and Grandpa was as warm as a stone in northern Alaska would be to me. But they were your parents and provided you with decades of support, advice, and love. You could always turn to your mom whenever something was going wrong. I remember countless times that you would call Grandma and I remember how she would do her mother-daughter bonding time (which was usually shopping). Grandpa was the fountain of advice that never seemed to cease. Whenever any of us kids were sick, you knew that you could always turn to him for advice. He, the only doctor in town, knew all the ways to cure our childhood illnesses. 

You have done everything you can to live up to the model that Grandma and Grandpa have shown by example. You have raised us with all the love that a mother could give. For each and every injury I had as a boy from running through the fields and forests to riding bikes and doing all the things that a boy can do to hurt himself, you were there with the patience and love to get me back on my feet. You let me play make believe and helped me realize that I could build cities, star ships, castles, forests, forts, and hundreds of other worlds in the family room. I love you, Mom. You have been such a powerful influence in my life. Yet I have smashed practically everything of value that you have ever tried to instill in me. Love. God. Politics.

But I am not the one that makes you cry at night, right? That will perhaps forever belong to my sister. She is the one that became a mother, to your chagrin and eventual joy, only to turn and throw it all in your face. It was she that cruelly destroyed all that you had hoped for her. Mother of two, and she decided to throw it all away and turn into chaos the lives of so many. I know that she wrenched out your heart and did so with such anger and fury that you are still stunned by it. Now she has come back into your life in an attempt to set things right. But your daughter of yesteryear is gone. She is full of such unyielding stubbornness (a family trait, I've noticed). What could you have possibly done more to help her be a good mother? Now your grandchildren's future is uncertain and that has to break your heart. Do you wonder if you have somehow failed Grandma's legacy? I know you haven't and believe that you have ultimately succeeded. But what do you think and believe?

Your oldest son divorced his first wife, left the Church and is seems bitter about it, and is now married to a non-religious and beautiful Japanese girl. He has come a long way but he was the first of your children to hurt you. Have you recovered from that at last?

Now what of your youngest son, my little brother? He should have done everything you ever wanted. But that didn't happen did it? And now what? Now he is married, having never served a mission, and you know that he will regret it. None of us could ever convince him to serve a mission first. He knew what he wanted and now he has it. What now? 

We have all not lived up to your hopes. Such is the nature of kids, right? It is my hope that you realize that you are not a failure to any degree. All four of your children are strongly independent. For the problems that we have inflicted upon each other, we have worked to amend and solve. Your daughter is trying to build a better life for her children. Your youngest and oldest sons are working hard to be good husbands to their wives and to work hard to build their careers and education. I am working hard to finish my degree and have high hopes that I will find someone that will be good and kind that I can love with all my heart and expect the same in return. 


I love you, Mom. You are truly amazing. I hope one day that you will see that with your grief you also have much to delight and rejoice in. 


Your son always,
Hopeful

Optimism

Dear Mom,


I write this letter to you in the hopes that in the future you will either stumble across this blog or that I will be able to feel comfortable enough to invite you to view it. A friend's mom recently discovered his blog and the result was extremely positive. It is my hope that that will be the same when the day comes that you read my blog. I love you and no amount of words (however fluent in the English language I become) will ever fully express the depth of that emotion and feeling towards you. Perhaps when you read this my heart will have broken because you cannot accept all of who I am. But it is my hope that you will take things as you did the night we walked together and talked of my growing disbelief in God.


That night - how strange it seems that only last week we talked - I walked with you not really expecting much beyond pleasant words exchanged and nimbly dodging topics of substance in our lives. Certainly that's how things began. Our conversations about people we knew and things going on in their lives was pleasant and nothing more than superficial. Sure, I love all those people, but I haven't talked to any of them in years with the single exception of Jo Ann.


That you should bring up the topic of my not holding a temple recommend was a wonderful surprise. When you did I tried my best to be careful and respectful of your feelings and desire to remain ignorant of all that was going on in my life. You have so many things on your plate that I didn't want to burden you with the knowledge that yet another one of your children was beginning to move away from the foundations you and Dad had tried to build for us.


Thank you for not backing away.


Your willingness to know, to really know, meant so much to me. Yes, I do have a hard time believing that there is a God in this whole wide universe. I have an even harder time accepting the notion that some anthropomorphic Being has done all that the Bible, Book of Mormon, and Doctrine and Covenants claims He has done. I read of so many inconsistencies and I hear so many contradictions that I cannot help but wonder what is really "true." But if anyone can truly help me see "the light" it will be you and Dad. You know my heart better than anyone.


I've seen the actions of so many Mormons from California and Washington state to Colorado and Wyoming and I see so many conflicting attitudes and views concerning doctrine and beliefs within the Church. I see the same disorganization concerning God as I do within Christianity. For now, Mom, I just cannot believe. It makes no sense to do so and it hurts too much. You know that now, and I thank you for that.


Perhaps in time I will change and perhaps not. But know once more that I love you and to me that's all that matters. I love you so very much. You have done so much for me and have been a wonderful mother. Thank you. I know that hard times are coming for us, all of us. What with your daughter still volatile, the grandkids' future unknown, your oldest son and his wife so far away and him struggling with some kind of depression, and your youngest son and his wife uninterested in so much.


Life is life. You cannot ask of it for something else. We must accept what is, change what we can, and deal with what we cannot. So, thank you for listening to me. It is my hope to write many more letters to you and that one day you will be able to read them and know of the love and concern I have for you as well as the optimism that I have for the future.


Your son always,
Hopeful

Chasms of the Heart

Dear Mom and Dad,


How do I even begin this? I have started this letter so many times that even as I write it now my stomach twists up in knots of fear and panic. You two mean a great deal in my life. I love you both beyond words. I ache so much to just tell you this in person, to walk with you somewhere (anywhere) and talk with you for hours. If it were in my power, I would talk until you understand where I'm coming from and accept me for who I am. 


As I write this, I realize that I have been trying to tell you this ever since the day I came out to you. Eight years later and the fact is that I'm still gay. Nothing has changed. My heart remains ever bound to the male gender as it did in the beginning. 

I am as scared now as I was then when I sat on your bed in the house on Gray Mare Way. My palms were sweaty then and I was so terrified to admit what I had come to realize. It was you, Mom, that I talked to first. I was too scared to actually ask to talk to you. I had to make you ask me what was wrong first. So when I told you and you didn't even respond I was devastated. It felt as though some chasm had opened up and I was falling down into a dark hole. But then I felt betrayed when days later I discovered that you told Dad and he never thought to share that he knew this about me. That knowledge hurt so much. My parents knew of the terror that was overtaking my life at the time but didn't think it necessary to talk to me about it. 

I stood alone then.

Now I stand here once again. I don't know how to close the chasm that I feel has opened up between us. I'm afraid that you don't want that chasm breached. But I have to do it. I have to cross over and reach out to you. I am your son! I love you guys more than anything in the world. I'm no longer afraid of who I am. I'm no longer afraid to walk through life as I am: a gay man. But I am afraid of losing you two. I know that I can't wait for you to come to me. You won't. But I will come to you. 

Stand with me. 

Love me for who I am. It's all I'm asking. I want more than anything to tell you about how my heart beats over a guy that I like. How I look forward to the day when I have kids with that special someone. How I ache so much to be loved and needed. I want to share with you my pain and joy. Not to torture and torment you. But as an expression of love. Let me have that with you. You have that with your other children. Why not me? 

I am the one that will happily care for you when old age has at last caught up with you. I am the one that will happily and willingly strive to make your life easier for you. I only ask that you do that for me in return. Be there emotionally. Don't pull back, please! We are a family and I want to do my part to be there for everyone. Why is it permitted to ignore who I am and then to lash out at me to be something I'm not? I love you and always will. 


Your son always,
Heartbroken