A little lonely

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
A long ways from home
A long ways from home
True believer
A long ways from home
A long ways from home

A counselor friend of mine told me, "Nothing is more traumatic for a gay man than the death of his mother." He didn't share his source, nor did I ask. Anyone have information on that one?

I know that we do tend to be very close to our mothers, and I was to mine for many years. And it is true that my desire to come out strengthened greatly after her death. I wonder why?

My mother is one who was always loving, accepting, understand. If she "knew" I was gay, she never said. Maybe she only suspected, or maybe not even that. I never had the chance to tell her, though I always felt she would understand (at some level) and still love me and welcome me home.

My father, on the other hand, has always shown strong signs of all kinds of bigotry, chauvinism, racism, you-name-it-isms. I always felt from him that I was never masculine enough, never good enough. Now, he has mellowed considerably in his old age (early 80's), and some of his opinions seem to have moderated.

Perhaps someday, I think, maybe, I could tell him. Maybe. His wife I believe would be understanding. (He's on wife number 3, and the best one he's found yet. She's loving, fun, understanding, just a great gal. And, she is much closer to my age than to his. Except for her taste in husbands, I can't fault the women).

I would have thought that the idea of coming out would have been more acceptable to me after my father's death, not after my mother's. It seems bassackwards to me, but then, often I go about things that way.

Now I am beginning to feel like that motherless child: no where to turn, no place to go, alone. I guess it's just this process. The thought of leaving what security I've got. The possibilities of poverty, loneliness, and darkness.

Guess today is sort of a tough one for me. Maybe tomorrow will be better. At least it will be another day. Thanks, Miss Scarlet.

Cheers, Joe.

Distractions

Twice now, it’s happened.  And within a year.  I can’t believe it.  How many times, in thrity plus years of driving have I filled the gas tank?  Thousands?  How many times have I forgotten to replace the gas cap?  Maybe twice.  Until this year.  And now I’ve twice forgotten.  Why?  Men.

A few months ago, it was a really cute guy in the convenience store.  He was inside working the register, and I was pumping gas, staring through the plate glass.  A little too much. And I drove off, leaving the gas cap on top of the pump.

Yesterday, I filled up at the cheapy gas station across from work ($2.67/gallon).  He was at the pump next to mine.  He was way beyond cute; he was hot.  Very.  I lost my concentration.  He spoke. Even though he finished filling the tank of his nice, big, red pickup and left before I finished, I was still distracted.  Nothing happened, no real flirting even.  I sure he was straight.  But I left my gas cap on the roof of the car.  

Twice.  In one year.  Men.  I’m not exactly complaining, mind you.

Cheers, Joe.

Schizo paradox

They don’t call it schizophrenia any more, it’s “schizo-affective.”

At least they have drugs for that. I am feeling very split between two very opposing worlds, lives, ways of thinking, ways of being. Not just different, but opposing.
A Queer in the Church.

Being queer and Christian has never been a problem for me. It’s the Church. And, it’s “Christians.” They are all driving me nuts.

So many GLBT folk have chucked the Church, and I really understand that. Not all parts of the Church are as condemnatory as, say the Southern Baptist tradition, or the “Focus on the Family” folk. But the majority of what one sees and hears and experiences is the rejection and condemnation.

And yet I am part of the Church. Granted, I am in a more liberal end of a more liberal denomination, but we are having our troubles with the “sexuality” issue. And it may bring us to a split of some sort, this summer.

And, being queer is so very antithetical to many Christians and most Churches, that I don’t even think I could begin to explain. It is really different, and I am trying to figure out how and where and what.

I have been reading Soul Beneath the Skin by David Nimmons, and I highly recommend it. Now that I have finally come out to myself, I am accepting just how different I am, and it is beginning to pervade my life. And it’s scary.

Can I continue in the Church? Can I continue in a leadership position in the Church? I just don’t know.

Part of the scariness of all this coming out business is the darkness: facing into the darkness wondering if anyone is there. It would be a lot easier to go out and find some guy to shack up with. At least then I would have someplace to go. Now it’s just darkness.

I had a bad cold this past week. Nothing big, just a cold. But the thought of being sick and alone was scary. I am afraid of that lonely darkness: no family, no job, no career, no way to support my children, old, sick, alone.

It is all a big paradox. Being marked as unacceptable by the Church, being jeered as unacceptable by GLBT folk who have no use for the Church. Leaving family to find . . . what?

But it’s like so many paradoxes: giving to receive, dying to live, and so on. Paradox often points to holiness; a place that makes no sense, but is nonetheless the only way. Emptying to be made full. Showing power by serving. Victory through defeat. Life in the midst of death.
Where will it end? Where will I be? And, how?

Slogging

Sometimes I feel like I am sinking. This past week the depression has set in, and motivating myself has become difficult. It's like slogging through mud. Either I lift my feet up out of the muck for the next step or just drag them along. One way or the other, it takes a lot of effort.

I have these competing emotions/feelings/thoughts of being very close to my wife, closer than we've been in a long time. Honesty will do that. Truly it is the best policy. But then I sometimes feel farther from her than ever before. Am I afraid of getting too close? I know I am afraid of hurting her, but I can honestly see how I am trying to keep from hurting me, too.

It has been nearly three months since we had our first talk, my final coming out conversation with her. Counselor has suggested we each (separately) devise a timetable of concrete steps for the next few weeks. And that was at least three weeks ago. He had to cancel the next appointment and we have neglected to make a new one.

And of course I have neglected to do any thinking concretely. . . . about anything.

Onward, upward, outward.

Cheers, Joe.

Dramatis personae

It has been way too long since last posting, and I've missed it. And yet, I haven't felt inspired to post anything. Sometimes the Spirit moves in the writing, and I write pages, and then say, "@$%*(+@!" and delete it all and start over.

Our road trip of the last post went well except for the actually road part. 500 miles of driving in pouring rain, thunder, and lightning made me ready for down-time in a padded cell. Please, just leave me be, in silence and darkness; just deliver the meals.

In my job, I come into contact with all sorts of people. Last week, I encountered a big, bearish man in an ancilary profession. Through our work contact we remained basically professional, but then there was that stare. I'm guessing I started it, but he stared right back. I held on just a little longer; so did he. Then, the prolonged handshake, and a bit of a wink.

Of course we both have wedding rings, wives, children. In our contacts over the years, I have always really figured he was gay. [My gaydar seems to work rather well]. But for some reason, we came on to each other, just a little bit. In a silent sort of way, we "outed" each other. But nothing was ever overt. I did not grab him and lick my way across his beard, though such things did cross my mind (and other places).

It feels so odd. I have always reckoned he was gay, but maybe something in me is giving off stronger signals. Maybe I made some move, some gesture that gave me away. Did co-workers notice? Who can say. It feels odd because I really enjoyed the flirting and fixated on him just a bit, for the rest of the day.

Making contact would probably not be in our best interests, but if he did . . . .
And what kind of contact; what words should be spoken. Typically, I want to go up to him (privately) and say, "Well, now that we have outed each other, what do we do?"

Yes, I want to jump his bones. I want to jump every guy's bones. But what about friendship without the sex. Is it possible, or will I sabotage it with acting out? Time will tell.

Somehow, I expect that when I "come out" publically, most people well may say, "It's about time." Enough for today.

Cheers, Joe.