Astrology and Idiocy

Dear Sentry,

I'd ask how you are doing, but at the moment, I really don't care. Please feel free to shrug off my indifference to your state of being and let me indulge in my thoughts for a bit. Yesterday was not a productive day as far as being a good student and studying hard. I dropped the books and traveled to Salt Lake City to go hang out with a group of gay men. It saddened me that a lady friend of mine could not travel with me but hopefully that will be corrected at another time.

The drive up was interesting. I enjoy watching how people interact with each other. Attraction is a fascinating thing to observe because, let's be honest, we are pathetic when we flirt. It makes no difference, in my opinion, what your gender or gender preference is. You'll still look like a dork to an outsider as you flirt. Those romance comedies, in my opinion, are so popular because of the fact that they spotlight human idiocy when it comes to falling in love. We say, talk, and do weird things. Sometimes it's cute, such as the physical connection of holding onto another's arm or the touching of a shoulder lightly. Sometimes it's awkward, say with a person being slightly intoxicated and touching the leg of a stranger or forcing hugs with a person they've barely met. Other times it's incredibly creepy, say like when a perfect stranger runs his hands down the arm of another stranger without any other communication while moving past them on the way to the bathroom or other location. Sure, you could argue this last one is more like an accidental bump, Sentry. But really now, have you ever considered how creepy it is to be minding your own business, unaware of the approach of this stranger, and then feeling his hand go from your shoulder to your elbow in a sweeping, semi-intimate touch. Not fun.

Attraction is interesting in how it drives a person to connect with another person. I think that we as people insist on there being order to the chaos in our lives. We insist that opposites attract, that straight men are in denial, that you must be a certain body type to attract the attention of your peers, that gays are an abnormality or perverse mental disorder or just plain odd, and that lesbians are always mere minutes away from pulling out their moving vans upon meeting a fellow lesbian. And while all this has a certain degree of truth to it (in some cases that truth is just simply wishing it were so), let's be honest, Sentry, there can only be one response to this: What the hell is wrong with us?

Now, for me, eyes are one of the most attractive feature on a person. In fact, eyes can be so compelling that they can make a straight man out of me on occasion (extremely rare occasions, mind you). Eyes can be brilliant or dull, Sentry. They can convey so much emotion or none. Basically, they entertain and fascinate me for hours. One example that comes to my mind almost immediately are the eyes of my "wife." I love her dearly and the thing that catches my attention the most is how expressive her eyes are. Her most vivid and powerful emotions are irritation and anger...so it's fun to get her annoyed. Now, she may read this, Sentry, so I should tell her now: you're awesome and I love you! Sending you love and lights always! *wink*

Another example comes from a guy that I saw last night. He had the most beautiful green eyes that I've ever seen. The green was distinct and clear and not cloudy or murky as my blue eyes can be. This, by the way, is not a slight on me, Sentry. Rather, his eyes were the most deliberate green I've seen and made me wonder if he were wearing contacts. They were mesmerizing, honestly, Sentry. Mesmerizing.

My final thought on attraction is on what governs who we like. This is something I've thought on a lot lately. See, sadly, I've been going about it the wrong way. I've always that I was attracted to people that are kind or compassionate, intelligent, and such because I find that personality intriguing and possessing of endless possibilities. Evidently I have been wrong in assuming that I am attracted to this because I find these qualities admirable. Last night, I discovered that the stars are responsible for this attraction. In my case, the moon has assisted or has some roll in determining this (I'm a bit confused on this point). So I say to that constellation (oh all right and the moon), Thank you. Can you provide me a man now? Yes, Sentry, astrology is what I'm talking about. No, I'm not joking, so please stop laughing or I will smack you later. I, being a Cancer (remind me to tell you an awkward story about that later), am evidently ideally matched with Pisces. Why? Cause crabs like fish? (That reminds me of another quite lame joke) Cause somehow our personalities work...

...

Anyway, I'm sure there are more meaningful and insightful explanations for the whys behind this...but I don't know them. And with that, Sentry, those are my thoughts on attractions and such from my experiences last night. Fun, huh? Oh, and a parting song at the end of this letter.

Your friend,
Traveler

Secrets

Dear Sentry,

Tonight I write on secrets, Sentry. I write about them as one who has not learned his lesson. See, shortly after I graduated from high school I was told I see the world through rose-tinted glasses. This came about when a friend was telling me that I had a crush on a pothead and wasn't seeing him for what he was. While I hope I have improved some in the six years since that event, I know that I am still a very naive boy.

I accept that I see the world through idealistic lenses. I've known this for a long time. I try to see the world just as it is, Sentry, but I fail so many times. I want the world to be this way so I pretend it is and than I am jarred back to reality when the truth of the situation or situations seeps back in again.

Sentry, the worst secrets for me are the ones that are about relationships. I hate when men that are married confess their unfaithfulness to me. I hate when women discuss their disgust in their partners and express longing for others. I am tired of knowing these lies and carrying them, Sentry.

Now, I know that couples are not perfect. Not all husbands and wives are faithful. Friends are not always honest. Moral individuals can be liars, leading double lives. Evil often is not committed through grand acts of show but in small, secretive acts. This I have come to understand a little more.

Over the past year I have met husbands that profess faith in their churches, love for their wives and children, but are unfaithful in their marital beds. I have met men and women in relationships that express love with a kiss on their lover's cheek or lips and then slip off to kiss another that is not their own. I have met individuals that stand up for so-called righteous causes but come the still of the night express their hearts in a different manner.

Secrets.

They intertwine with every aspect of the fabric of society, Sentry. I fully accept the fact that nothing that I have written is anything new or shocking. I accept that it is I who must change in this. I am wrong about the world around me. I am wrong in how I have chosen to perceive the world around me. Those that I have looked to as role models or even simply as people that I thought fit my model of a good person have let me down. This, Sentry, is to be expected.

So why am I writing any of this? I mean, honestly, gays are notorious for keeping secrets. So many of us hide our very identity from ourselves or masquerade it in word plays such as same-gender attraction, temptations, weaknesses, and so on. We play the roles that families, friends, religions, and societies try to demand of us. Some continue their secrets until more lives are entangled in it. Sometimes we hide from the truth for decades and decades. But as always, we have our secrets. And we are not alone. No one person is somehow immune to this. I have my secrets.

So why am I writing this?

I am writing this because it breaks me heart. My idealism tells me I should be honest about how I feel and think. I should be honest towards others. People should be honest towards me and others. But we are not. We cannot. So, Sentry, I accept that reality is not as I wish it to be. I accept that I am the one that must change. I must yield to reality.

But know this, Sentry, I am tired. I have learned one thing in all of this, one tiny shred of learning: I want to one day marry a man that is honest.

So for now, Sentry, what do I do to accept this real world. How do I find a way to live in this world where secrets intertwine with so-called reality? I already know I am a coward and weak. But these two things do not help me to cope, adjust, and find a way to live in such a way as to accept the world around me and try to do what I think is right.

So I ask, Sentry, what answers can you give me?

Your friend,
Traveler

P.S. I feel like this song is most accurate (from Jekyll and Hyde):

Intolerable

Dear Dad,

As goes without saying, I love you. You have taught me many things in life and I am grateful for that. But I write this letter out of frustration and it is directed at you. Seriously, Dad, grow up. While I was watching the first episode of Glee, you walked in for perhaps ten seconds, watched a clip and made a comment that irritated me. Here's the clip, in case you forgot:

You made the comment, "I don't want to watch any show where a girl sings 'I kissed a girl.'" Why did this frustrate me? Because you speak out of ignorance. Yes, you have the right to listen to what you want and believe what you want, however intolerant or stupid it may be. But had you watched the rest of the show, or even another episode, you would have discovered that girl is straight and just loves to push the boundaries. But no, you had to make your judgment based off of whatever moral standard you think is right.

Now on to what lies beneath your bigotry. I am tired of hearing you spout phrases and comments from Rush Limbaugh to defend an ideology I am so certain you have barely thought through. How is it you can comfortably say that the government has no right to lay claim to your money or make laws that protect the rights of others from your views and your opinions? How is it you can believe that Democrats, gays, feminists, and so many others are evil, misguided, and full of hate when all I ever hear from you is bitterness, anger, and frustration? How is it that you believe the government has the right, that you in particular have the right, to intervene in the life of a pregnant woman and tell her what to do with the baby? How is it that you can tell gay men and women that they are second class citizens in this country, undeserving of the most basic of rights? How is it that you can claim that the real victims in the United States of America are white Christians? I am sick of this.

Let that girl, or any girl throughout this whole wide world, say that she likes kissing a girl. Let her. I am not particularly interested in this or even find it attractive but I don't recall thinking that what I think or want matters to that girl. She doesn't care and that's perfectly fine. You, Dad, are permitted to like Mom because society agrees that their opinion doesn't matter in this. They simply support a union forged in love and commitment to each other. Never mind that your beliefs are repulsive and blasphemous to fundamentalist, evangelical Christians. Never mind that your political views are laughable to nearly half the citizens of this great nation. Never mind that your words, spoken with flippancy, have hurt those around you. Never mind any of that. It doesn't matter. That a girl could like a girl causes you to speak with such disgust and hatred is what frustrates me. Grow up and get over it. We're different and that's that.

What will you say to me in the future? I am gay and proud of it. That has taken me years to reach this point that I could even state that. It has taken me years to even look myself in the eye in the mirror and to even be comfortable in my own skin. Why? Because people like you have taught me that I am evil, selfish, and unwanted by God. You have sought to set at naught the very teachings of the God you believe in and that disappoints me. There is already so much cruelty, despair, and hopelessness in this world. How dare you add to it.

If she were real, I'd say push boundaries. Let all society enter into the debate on whether what's being pushed is good or not, without the employment of hate. We as a nation have never achieved perfection. Our greatest moments in history are not the pinnacles of our achievement, merely a point to reach on our continuous upward climb to a better society. That's what we as Americans are engaged in: a social and political experiment. I am so sick and tired of the bullsh*t that you spout. It's sickening how you think you are obligated or permitted to tear down others just to make yourself feel better. Whatever happened to the dad that I grew up with? Did I imagine a father that was more interested in the affairs of his family over what politicians on the other side of the nation did or said? Did I imagine a father that would read his scriptures, share his testimony, and talk to his children about what mattered in their lives? Perhaps...

I will let you rant and rail in my presence for as long as you feel necessary. I have my views and am no longer interested in giving heed to what you say until you can meet the most basic of my requirements for discussion. But what I will not tolerate is if you attack my friends or, someday, the person I love based on their political beliefs, religious beliefs, personal beliefs, or even their sexuality, race, or gender. This, is a warning in advance: you will never be permitted to speak rudely of the person I love. You may speak of concerns you have. But if you mock or belittle a boyfriend or my future husband on the grounds that he is gay or acts not as manly as you wish, then we will have words. Cruelty is intolerable. I will not permit your bitterness to inflict wounds upon those I love.

With that said, allow me to share things that I think are good and wholesome to me. They will likely be offensive to you. But I find Rush Limbaugh and most of your well-liked political pundits repulsive. Yet still, I sit through their hate-filled rants when I am with you and am willing to express love to you and a desire for a better world around me. You don't have to like or even watch these videos but know that they carry the message that means a lot to me: we, in all our variety as human beings, are equal to each other.

Merry Christmas, Dad. My hope is that you will find what is promised in this song below and remember what it is teaching. Christianity is not a warrior religion to me. It is the religion of the fallen, the hopeless, the forgotten. It is the religion of healing and forgiveness. It is not the religion of utterly crushing your fellow man or of utter humiliation over your opponents. It is not the religion of pride or of arrogance but of humility, of meekness, and of love.

Your son,
Frustrated

Cowardice

Dear Sentry,

I have learned something most grievous tonight. I have hurt another individual. Such a realization saddens me deeply.

So tonight, I wish to discuss an aspect of my character with you: my cowardice.

I speak such words without any attempt to elicit sympathy, pity, or forgiveness. Let us look at this calmly and with reason. You can substitute the word "cowardice" with "pathetic" if you wish, Sentry. For as the days go by I am increasingly aware of my cowardice. I see it in the little things I do and in the words I say to my friends. It fills my eyes with tears. I am no great angel of mercy in this world. I am selfish, petty, and weak.

Tonight, a friend told me that he regretted hanging out with me one night because I had made him feel horrible. I did this, Sentry. My heart is filled with such anguish and my head is hung with shame. I told this individual how truly sorry I was for what happened. In that moment, I could feel this cowardice in me become revealed. How truly, pathetically human I was, as my friend showed me. But worst of all, Sentry, he blames himself for it. He tells me that it was his fault and that I am not to blame.

That is not the case.

I am to blame. For years I was afraid to really look myself in the eye in the mirror except to put contacts in. All I could see was this pitiful creature attempting to exist, an existence down right wretched at times. The previous sentence is charged with emotion, Sentry. I recognize this. Let me take a step back and examine things. True, I have improved a lot of the past couple of years. I have shed much of my childishness. But I do believe that on some level I recognize how much cowardice still remains within me.

When I run and hide from all the stress in my life, that's cowardice. When I run and hide when someone tells me they like me, that's cowardice. When I take advantage of another, that is cowardice. So, in summation: I am a coward.

About a month ago, Sentry, I hurt a dear friend of mine. I used her without pause for consideration of her feelings. I took advantage of her. How pathetic on my part, Sentry. That she forgave me says far more about her character - merciful and kind - than it does about mine -cowardice.

A friend of mine, over the summer, expressed outrage that I belittled his friends and family members through the use of degrading labels. He showed far more courage and decency in that moment than I ever have. I am a coward.

The coward in me is a glutton, a sloth, and an idiot. He hurts people without care, Sentry. Such a loathsome creature, indeed.

Again, Sentry, in my defense, I am trying to improve. I wish such changes would occur over night but it seems I am doomed to remain the coward in slowly decreasing amounts. It saddens me that I am such a way. I am a coward because I am afraid to recognize how I should be and ignore the great need this world has for strong people.

Without attempting to invoke the phrase "the grass is greener on the other side" argument, I state this: my friends are strong. I am not. I have much to learn, Sentry. Forgive me, I ask solemnly, for this weakness within me.

Your friend,
Traveler

Introspection

Dear Sentry,

I have never questioned the reality of my many imperfections. Like so many others, I accept my flaws and then seek to magnify them tenfold, hundredfold, and so on. I find that my battles are not with outside forces but myself. I already carry the darkness that seeks to overshadow whatever bright hopes exists within my so-called soul. Doubt, shame, silence...characteristics that insidiously tell me what I can't and shouldn't do.

I am always afraid to work through these aspects of me. Why? Because I really am afraid of my potential. What if I am all that people claim I am...or worse, even more than that? I don't mean that with any form of arrogance or narcissism. I write it as one that is attempting to reconstruct his mind after such damage has been inflicted on it.

In my heart of hearts, I believe - in error that everyone but me deserves happiness. I truly do hope for happiness in the lives of my friends. I am always eager to learn of a new love interest, a new joy, a new friend. I want to believe in a happy ending for them. They deserve such happiness. But when it comes to me, I just don't believe it. I see every flaw, every falsehood, and every sickening thought that I hold within. I see my failures, unnecessarily huge in my sight, and wish to retreat and surrender. My skin is thick as well, for no amount of persuasion from friends can make me think otherwise. And, in keeping with honesty, I have always felt that the line from Beauty and the Beast applies to me, "For who could ever love a beast?" I am that beast and no amount of watching that movie through to the end can connect the beast at the beginning with the prince at the end. They are two separate beings to me. I fear that I will be alone all my life and yet feel as though I will have to accept this reality and make do. There is something rather disgusting about that attitude, don't you think, Sentry?

So yes. I do not believe I deserve happiness despite the fact that in contradiction to that belief I still strive for it. I still harbor the descendant of the view that I am somehow hideously ugly. But what about those that say I'm cute? I anticipate you're responding with. I never know what to do about those compliments, I admit. I alternate between thinking they are teasing me to just being nice. For example, "How are you?" is a phrase people say because polite society demands it but it's an empty phrase, it seems. The polite response is "Good" regardless of how you really feel. This is how I see it for the benign side of people telling me I'm cute.  And that is rather insulting, no? I reduce, arguably, genuine compliments from what they are - truthful - to lies veiled by a smile. Is my view of humanity so tainted? Am I really that cynical, Sentry?

I know that I am fragile and weak. I will stand mightily by my friends' sides and defend them till the bitter end. I will soberly take note of their many triumphs and mistakes. I will bolster them up when they are feeling down and give an outpouring of love towards them on days of sadness and days of joy. Why? Because I think people need to be reminded that they're not alone and that people do care about them. I'm a hypocrite, aren't I? Because in that same thought, I will proceed to deny my very friends the opportunity to help me. After all, I'll think to myself, I'm beyond help.

I will take verbal abuse and pretend not to show it (unless they know just exactly how to pierce that thick skin of mine). But come the end of the day, when no one is looking, I will still drop to my knees and let slip the tears down my cheeks. I have noticed that in coming out of the closet, I accepted the reality that I am emotionally vulnerable. That by allowing myself to feel, I have to actually feel. Such a funny situation, really. I used to put my most vulnerable feelings far away from where they could get hurt, psychologically speaking. But I have learned that in order to truly feel and truly allow myself to love, laugh, and care I must allow myself to be vulnerable, allow myself to be hurt. What I mean by that, Sentry, is not that I seek to start blubbering in front of people at the first mean comment thrown my way. Rather, that I become emotionally available to myself and capable of giving 100% to situation, be it amorous or amicable.

I'll be honest, even though I have shattered much of my past attitudes of how ugly and stupid I am, I still harbor those fears that I am those things to some extent. Ugliness has just shifted to the view that I am a slob and fat. Stupidity has just shifted to believing me to be lazy, not smart enough, and drearily dull. These, thankfully, are weaker than their predecessors but they still hurt. What is most interesting throughout all of this is the disgust that I possess that I am weak because of these attitudes. That is most certainly true, Sentry. So long as I see myself in such a negative light, I am weak. That weakness, though, translates into a not-so-strange phenomenon that I must rely on myself to deal with problems even when those problems drive me to my knees and cause me to do things that I will later regret. For example, I may not cut myself as frequently as I did in the past. But the temptation, however slight, remains and I have given into it before...but that's a topic for another day, Sentry. My only point is that we find ways to cope and some of those coping mechanisms are not healthy or wise to engage in. I am no different in this with how I cope.

Really, in utter honesty, you must admit that I am pathetic to some degree. I am a quarter of a century old and I still act like a child. I possess all the understanding of romantic relationships as a four year old does. I am rather stupid on that, as on so many other subjects in life. I desperately want to be done with school but I have no plan for what to do after school. I believe I am nothing special. One must accurately admit that my need for protection stems from a false view of my being weak. That desire is ultimately undermined by the need to prove to myself that I can be strong. Ah, how funny the mind works!

So, Sentry, I suppose this letter to you really qualifies as a self-examination. But that shouldn't surprise you. I am incomplete and flawed. I would love one day for my knight-in-shining-armor to capture my heart. But I think my knight is as real as any mirage in the desert. This world is full of flawed people trying to make do with what they think is right. I am no different. I can only expect from another what I expect from me. So, you cannot blame me when I admit with frustration that such expectations are paradoxically low and high since that's how I see myself.

I have much to learn, Sentry...

Your friend,
Traveler

P.S. After reading over my letter to you several times, I feel a sense of relief and peace. Relief at accurately expressing my flaws and admitting my knowledge of their flaws. Peace at expressing them and hoping that I might change and be truly capable of expressing love.

God

My friend,

I have more to say concerning our conversation of earlier and I will repeat segments of our conversation for the sake of this blog and for recorded memory. I know the path I am about to descend down and I want to cry right now. My atheism is a statement or condition of a crisis of faith. It is not some permanent condition though it is part of an effort to rethink the world and to find happiness.

But, please, imagine for a moment me as a small child. I wanted so badly to feel loved by my parents and by God. I felt like an inconvenience to all those around me. I just wanted to be hugged and held by someone when I was younger. I wanted so badly for that to be the case but I always felt forgotten and unwanted. When I was young, no more than eight, I knelt down one day and prayed to know if God loved me. I remember how I felt so ashamed to even ask that question of Him. I felt like I was wasting His time by even bothering to speak to Him. But still, I wanted to know. I had to know. I had to know if God loved me for I felt ugly and unwanted.

I received no answer to that prayer.

I felt as though I had annoyed God and prayed for forgiveness. How silly of me to have wasted his time to even condescend to answer such an unimportant question. God had more important things to do than waste his time on such a pitiful thing as I. I knew it even at a young age that I was some kind of accident in the eyes of God.

When people spoke of the love of God in Church, I understood it intellectually but never believed it applied to me. God's love was for people that he actually liked. God did not even want to acknowledge me but had to because he was God and I was some accidental creation surely. As a teenager, I strove to understand the scriptures and to be a good Mormon boy. I just hoped and prayed for some confirmation that I was loved and wanted.

When I learned that I was gay and that it was evil to God, I felt so low. Surely this was a sign that God didn't really want me. I was truly ugly to him and unwanted. But still, surely I could somehow gain some level of at least God tolerating me. So I still studied and I still learned but I hated myself and hated all that I was. I hid that part of myself until I could no longer hold it inside. I sought for acceptance and love from others. And when I sought for help, support, and love I found it outside of my family and far from God. I felt abandoned and lost beyond words. Beyond description.

God had marked me as something to be avoided and despised. I never felt like I could ever reach even the basic level of God's love. On the mission, I never felt like I could receive inspiration or the Spirit because I just simply could never be worthy enough in God's eyes. I was also too wrong and too evil to even dare approach God's presence. But still I felt I had to, that I was commanded to. I just would ask for him to forgive me for even daring to ask for help. As I think back on those memories, I cannot help but cry. I felt that even my praying was a great evil before God but since I had to obey commandments I had to pray and that I just had to ask for forgiveness for offending God with my pleas.

I knew I was an abomination to God at the beginning of my mission. I was something that clearly did not deserve God's love. I wept then. I had spent three years before that hating myself for something I could not help. I hated that I liked boys instead of girls. I hated that every desire I had had ultimately, through that development, been rejected by God. I was so very ugly in God's eyes.

Why would God ever want me?

So, understand, then, that believing such a Being does not exist makes me feel happy. It is as though a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. No amount of pleading in prayers to know if God loves me has ever yielded the answer that such is the case.

That is my answer to you.

Sincerely,
Your friend

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.