A Tough Week

As many of you know, I had a tremendously hard week emotionally. Several factors contributed to this.

1. Going to Pride and feeling unattractive and uncomfortable with myself made me feel like I was back in the closet again. While at the event, an announcer said "Aren't you proud to be gay?" My heart screamed NO. No, not at all. I am terrified and ashamed that I was still unhappy with being gay. This could be a post unto itself, so I'm going to move on.

2. I've been averaging 60 work hours a week for the last 8 weeks. This is taking a heavy toll on the following:

3. Physical well-being--It's harder to eat well and find time to hit the gym when you're always at work.

4. Emotional well-being--I have to be diplomatic and focused for long long stretches, which requires you to repress emotions to maintain professionalism.

5. Social well-being--I think I've gotten about 2 visits from a friend (not counting a trip to the moho party) in this 8 week period. I also haven't been able to go on my second date with Damian because our schedules keep conflicting.

So basically, you can imagine that I am worn pretty thin. I've also noticed that these bouts of depression seem to come at about 4-5 week intervals, which leads me to believe it may be a bio-rhythm as well.

Well, I wrote some pretty scary things on this blog. I'm sorry for scaring you. I feel bad that I don't always know how to reach out and get the help. It's embarrassing to me that I'm so far along, so "out" and yet I'm still so ashamed of myself. Self acceptance for ANYTHING has never come easily to me, and certainly not for being gay. When everyone else seems to be so much more comfortable, or at least putting on such a better face than me, I feel inferior.

My friend Brett moved here from Peoria, IL and is interning at a late night show here in LA. He's only been out 2 months or so, and he's just so confident and cool about it. He's already gotten some dates in just the week or two he's been here. He's not any better looking for me. He's not in better shape than me. But he clearly has the confidence and presence to attract cute guys. It makes me feel so envious.

On top of all this angst-causing bullshit, my Los Angeles BISHOP called me out of the blue because he wanted to "meet". I told him that I was fine and didn't need to meet. It made me feel angry and I wanted to scream "I'm a fucking faggot! Leave me alone!" But I didn't.

I was feeling pretty shitty--but this time it was different than other times--I was too calm, and that made me nervous, because with the calmness it made me feel in control, when I knew I wasn't. I was so alone, and I needed help, but was too proud, and too ashamed to ask. "I don't deserve help," I reasoned.

And yet, despite my efforts to push these people away from me, they wouldn't leave me alone. They checked in on me, expressed their love, called, texted, e-mailed, and undoubtedly prayed for me.

Thank you (in no particular order) to

Clint M.

Michael W.

Cam W.

Alan W.

Drew S.

Grant H.

Troy D.

MohoHawaii

Bravone
Frank S.
Ned J.

Greg V.

Canyon E.

Scott N.

Sarah N.

Sarah T.

My Mom

If I've left anyone out, please know I valued you reaching out to--I was literally taken aback at how many people cared enough to say something to me, or listen to me rant, and so I might have forgotten someone in the flood of concern and love.

I wanted to keep this short, but this post's chance at brevity is long past, so I'll forge ahead.

Everyone said things that were helpful, but I wanted to share two quotes from Clint and Scott.

Scott: There will never be a time that you could suicide and *not* cause people pain and trouble. I love you, and losing you will hurt, even if it's 80 years from now and due to natural causes. Mostly I just wanted to let you know that I love you

Ezra: I don't even know what to say anymore. I feel undeserving of the friends I have. God knows I wouldn't be friends with me. I'd run like hell in the opposite direction from this train wreck

Scott: It isn't up to you to decide who's friends with you. I get to choose who I'm friends with, and I like you. You can choose whether or not to reciprocate that friendship, but you're getting it from me either way. And I'll always count myself lucky to know you.

Ezra: I'm 22 and I'm giving up. How fuckin' pathetic is that? You'd be crazy to want to know a loser like that.

Scott: I like you just because you're *you*. Because I like *Ezra*.

----

Clint: If you were [a selfish asshole], then people wouldn't care. Trust me. I've had friends who were/are jerks. I don't call them and I don't call other people to check up on them when I can't. You think trying to make other people hate you will make you feel justified in hating yourself, but it won't. We think you are someone worthwhile. You may not think that of yourself, but might have to trust us to not be complete morons. You don't have to start loving yourself before other people can love you."

My mother probably put it the most succinctly. She said "Be nice to Ezra, I like him".

It's funny how sometimes a slight change in semantics can cause a paradigm shift. I realized that if I saw a friend treating someone I cared about the way I treat myself, I'd not stand for it. It's hard for me to do things for myself--maybe it's that self-flagellation that I've been performing for so many years. But I love to serve others--and I am fiercely loyal to my friends. And my friends are telling me to stop being so hard on myself--so maybe I can do it for them. It would hurt me to see one of my friends treated this way, so I can imagine the distress it must cause them to see me so abusive and not be able to intervene because it's inside of me.

Sorry if that's a bit "out there", but it's true. I am trying to see this from a new perspective.

I've also committed myself to visiting a psychotherapist on Monday, and presumably if I feel a good vibe off of him (I already do) will begin seeing him regularly. He comes recommended from a gay co-worker, and Dr. Tony is "family" which is nice, too. Hopefully you folks can rest a little easier knowing I'm seeking help.

And a few cool things are happening this weekend--Saturday is the Affirmation Pool Party here in LA! It's a completely new, non-blogging group of gay mormons to meet! I'm super excited.

And I finally scored my second date with Damian. We're going to see Up in 3D. (Is it still chauvinistic to want to pay for everything if you're both men? I just feel like I want to pay since I've been doing so well... Thoughts?)

Anyway, thank you all again for being a special part of my life. I love you all very much.

*apologies to initially leaving Ned and Frank off my list.

Ezra is MORTIFIED

In case you weren't in the Bay Area on April 17th, here's an audio recording of my performance. I recorded it with my digital still camera, which was sitting behind a booth. If you find it hard to hear--tough cookies, If I could have gotten a board feed I would've!



For those who might not want/care to listen, you can download a PDF of the piece, here. But trust me, it's more fun to hear me read it and hear the audience reactions.

A Super Gay Sunday

So here's my long version of my teaser post from monday.

I'm been working A LOT this past week or so, (yesterday I worked 19 hours!) so I've let blogging fall by the way-side.  It also doesn't help that I don't have internet at home--though now that I think about it I could have written a post offline and then brought it in to work to post instead.

But I have some downtime while I'm waiting for a tape, so here's the deal on what I'm calling my "Super Gay Sunday".

The day started off with me waking and making a "Funfetti" cake for my roommate's girlfriend.  It was her 22nd birthday, and I wanted to do something nice for her, to dispel any remaining idea that I don't like her or don't approve of her.  Early on in their relationship, I think I was a bit stand-offish because they seemed to me to be a bad match... but with time I've come around to see that they actually are a great couple.

In addition to the cake, I went to the grocery store and bought a bushel of balloons.  While the girl filled them, she asked me "are these for a boy or a girl?" which I like to think was a creative way of asking me if I was gay--so I told her the story about my roommate's girlfriend, and that as a gay man I don't have a girl, or a guy, for that matter, to give balloons too.  She was really friendly and assured me that it just takes time.  She seemed suprised that I was only 22...

Anyway, while the cake baked, I wrote to a strictly platonic craigslist ad for a guy looking for a "witty, dry sense of humor conversationalist".  I thought that was intriguing, so I e-mailed, and we sent a few messages back and forth, before it was time for me to head down to Lawndale CA for my lunch with Spencer.  So I asked him to call me while I drove, and he did.

So we talked about this that and the other until I got to Lawndale.  An enjoyable time, but I had to say goodbye when I arrived at Spencer's house.

Most of you know, from my post "Another Amazing Happenstance" that Spencer is the guy I met on OKcupid who's best friend caused me so much angst when he rejected my invitation to get to know me.

Well, after essentially standing him up this Tuesday because I got stuck at work, I readily agreed to reschedule our meet-up for a Sunday lunch.

Now, a funny thing about Spencer is that he's 6'8".  Now, I know this, and was fully expecting tall--but when I knocked on his door (not realizing that there was a step up to get into the front door) and he answered, I was literally taken aback.  He was a good 14 inches higher than me as a result of the extra step... it was pretty crazy.

Anyway, after the initial surprise wore off, we headed towards Hermosa Pier, and decided on a Greek Tapas place.  SO GOOD.  We ordered a bunch of little dishes and ate and talked.  Spencer is so much like me it's not even funny.  I observed the language that he used, the playful and friendly manner in which he addressed the waitstaff, and was just happy.  He playfully chided me for standing him up, and at one point said "Jesus Christ" and then said "I should have said Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints", directly referencing one of my initial reasons for writing him in the first place.  His memory of the little details made me happy--he made me feel like he was glad to be spending time with me--I was certainly happy to be spending time with him.

I'd brought along a rather challenging puzzle-based Geocache for us to do after dinner. (Click the link if you wanna see what I mean--it's a puzzle requiring you to solve a number grid and then use the solution as your "road map"--looping you around through "senic" Lawndale, CA).  Spencer apparently loves puzzles, so he was very excited to solve it.  This made me happy, because so many people are sort of blase about Geocaching, and it's something I think is totally awesome.

The bummer part of this story is that he's moving to Sacramento in mid-may, and so the whole time we're hanging out, I realize that there's a good chance I'll never see him again.

The cache is in this picture... can you spot it?

The cache is that pipe of conduit bolted the the pole!!!  It was so cool I was practically giddy with delight.  I hope I didn't seem crazy--but I was thrilled!

Well, I dropped Spencer off at home so he could get to work.  I drove home, thinking about the fun time I'd just had, and bumming out that it wouldn't happen again, most likely, before the move.

So in an attempt to distract myself from loneliness, I called the craigslist guy and asked if he wanted to hang out and maybe go to a park and walk around or something.  So I picked him up and we went to Woodley Park and visited the Sepulveda Dam. (below)

This dam is awesome, and since it's for flood control, it's always a blast to visit and run up the dry spillways.  Stephen was a nice enough kid, but there wasn't any chemistry, and the difference in how I felt and spoke around him and how I felt and spoke around Spencer was like night and day.

So I dropped Stephen back at home after the park, fully intending to never speak to him again, because with my extremely limited free time, I've got people who I care about a lot more (like friends) than to hang out with someone I'm "meh" about.

Anyway, I got home and decided to call my friend Brandon B, who is the first guy I ever dated. (Granted it was just a coffee date.) and asked if he wanted to grab dinner.  He obliged, and we met at Bossa Nova on Sunset Blvd.  We chatted and caught up, and somehow he suggested that we go to WeHo together and visit a gay club--so we did!  Now granted, we went very tame, and it was a Sunday night, but all told, it was a very interesting experience to see men in such numbers holding, kissing, laughing and talking.  I mostly just stood chatting with Brandon and absorbing the vibe.

Oh, and a forty year old drunk man talked to me and Brandon for a while, extending the generous but undesired offer of his cock to suck.  He also groped my man boob and kissed my neck.  Suprisingly, I was not threatened by this, and was more amused than anything else.

Anyway, I finally took that step and got over that fear, and it wasn't a big deal.  I also had a sip of Vodka Tonic, when Brandon offered me to taste.  It tasted like NyQuil... there was little temptation to drink more.

That night, after all visiting the clubs, I returned to my home at 2am, overly weary (big mistake) for the intense week we had ahead of us at work.  But I hoped online and found that Spencer had invited me to his going away party in WeHo in a couple weeks.  Well, it made me glad that I'd gone to get over the fear so that I can say yes to his invitation.

The other funny thing, is that Spencer's friend Brandon, the editor friend, who I blogged about getting rejected by in my "Creepy Stalker" post, will be there... so he'll get to see exactly how awesome of a guy he ignored!

Anyway, today's been super hard, so I'm going to pass out--I've had a cap of NyQuil and I'm hoping that this is coherant when I read it back tomorrow.

Oh, and I have a date for this weekend.  He seems nice, and pretty cute, but not sure if he'll be my type---more on that when it goes down. Night!

And There's The Problem...

So it's official. I'm not gay enough.

I'm in the Castro blogging from my phone. A little while ago I had lunch at a little restaurant here called "home". They had an amazing meatloaf sandwich that knocked my socks off. But I digress.

When I got my check, I asked my (gay) waiter what I should do or what was a must see. He directed my that if I as going up towards this one area that there were a bunch of bars and strips clubs "like I think there's a Hustler strip club up there.". Yeah then I directly asked what to see and do in re Castro and I got told to check out the Castro theater because they show classic films.

So even in the heart of the Castro people don't even ask if I'm gay because it's apparenty not even in doubt. Now granted, I realize that maybe he just wanted to air on the safe side, assuming that straight people can get offended when their sexuality is questioned, and many gay men would be merely amused or flattered by the assumption that on is straight. But still.

I do not feel like I fit in in any community anymore. I'm pretty much done with
Mormonism and I'm still not comfortable with myself and don't identify with the gay community. I feel sick to my stomach.

Anyway, Mortified is tonight and if I'm lucky someone will invite me out with their group so I don't feel like a total loner lamo.

I feel like in many ways I like the person I was when I was in the closet a lot better. I feel less confident and more reserved an shy than ever. Sigh whatever I just am really lost.

Sad Strangers

Yesterday I was driving home from the gym, talking on my (wired!) headset to my sister in Maine.  We try to talk at least once a week.  When I was about 2/3rds of the way home, I received a text message from Andrew, a college friend who I'd committed to pick up at the airport.

Blast! I felt silly having been heading in the wrong direction for that whole time.

(I'm not going to turn this post into a commentary on that last sentence and the deeper truth that lies within it, though it's very tempting. I think my readers are smart enough to feel where I might go with that)

So I swung all the way around--north, then west on the 101, then south on the 405 to Century Blvd.  Andrew is gay, and now that I am more comfortable and "out", I get special delight in re-visiting my old gay friends.  I used to be somewhat uncomfortable around my gay friends, because I feared that they, being gay, had some special sixth sense, and would quickly figure out my dark secret.  I feared I'd be outted by them--not directly, perhaps--but maybe people would notice the similarities between me and my gay friends and come to a (correct) conclusion that I, too, was homosexual.

Well, all that crap is in the past now.  When I got to the airport, Andrew and I embraced in a way that seems exclusive to homosexuals and close family--that great big unrestrained bear hug of joy at seeing someone you care about after a long absence.

Mind you, I've no interest in a relationship with Andrew, but I love hugs and I do care about my friends very deeply.

We drove towards where he was staying in Sherman Oaks, and we stopped and got In-N-Out for dinner.  (I limit myself to no more than once a week, because I literally get giddy when I eat In-N-Out, it's just that good.  It makes up for the lack of decent pizza out here).

While we were talking, I noticed a guy sitting alone on a stool at the bench.  He looked to be in his low to mid 20's (I'm a terrible estimator of age) and slender with a jacket and a cap, five-o-clock shadow, and moist, sad eyes.

I couldn't help but watch him.  He looked as if he was really upset, yet didn't want to show the world his pain.  My heart reached out to this guy, and I really really wanted to go over and ask him what was wrong.  We made eye contact one or two times, but I didn't get a read on him.  I hesitated, minutes slipping by, trying to talk myself into going over and asking "is everything ok?"

But the moment slipped away.  He muttered something to him self, got up, dumped his trash and left.

Earlier this week I'd been reading articles about picking up a guy, and I'd committed myself to at least try striking up a conversation with someone I find attractive.  Why didn't I do it?  A wasted opportunity.  I feared that maybe he just wanted to be left alone--there was a reason he wasn't letting his tears flow--and maybe if I approached him, he'd be angry with me for not minding my own business.   But maybe he would have been grateful that in cold, uncaring, "blade-runner city" LA, someone at least tried to reach out.

But I still feel cheap, because my motivation wasn't 100% altruistic.  I thought he was cute and wanted to talk to him.  Eh, what are you going to do.

We're all sad strangers, walking the streets alone at night, staring up at the stars.  Wondering if somewhere out there your other half is looking at those same celestial bodies, questioning if he'll ever find his.

*sigh*

The Follow-Up: More E-mails From Mother

I know some might be wondering what kind of follow-up e-mails I might have received from my mother. Since there has been a little back and forth, I'm just going to contextualize and share some highlights.

I did not respond to her initial message, since she had said "more to come". So eventually, on Monday the 19th, she wrote back [excerpt]:

I am sorry that you had to wait so long, and I feel I must have failed you in some way that you couldn't tell me sooner. I am sorry I didn't earn your faith and trust. I'm not perfect either!

Have you told your dad? Sarah? David? Katie? My mom? etc? You didn't say not to say anything, but I haven't and won't until you say it's ok. It's your life to decide who know and who doesn't. But I'd like to know... not that I'm going to call or write to any of them and 'talk' about you... but sometimes something like that comes up in a conversation, you know..'

And then there is [My seminary teacher] She's going to be devastated. She told me how she felt she'd be held accountable if she accepted Brandon [Her gay son] the way he is- which I guess is gay from what she said. But I don't agree, you raise up your children as best you can, and then they make their own choices, or go their own way, and you love them even if they become an ax murderer. But from what I gathered talking to her, she can't except him as he is. She didn't say this but the impression I got was he can't come home until he 'cleans up his act'. Sad.

Are you going to tell her?

Well, aside from receiving the same love as an ax-murderer, this e-mail was much more satifying and I think she just doesn't really get that the way she's describing her feelings can be taken in an offensive way.

I told her that she was the last to know, and that I had told my Young Men's leader back in Virginia a while back, but really I wasn't sure about telling anyone from church from my past, (not that I intend to hide, either). She has asked if my roommate was more than just a love interest, and I told her no, that I hoped she'd think I could do better than that--no offense to my roomie. She replied:

Well, actually I had hoped [he wasn't your boyfriend], but if I was wrong, I wouldn't want you to think I didn't like him, I do he's a nice guy... is he straight or gay? I assume he knows. Do you have a 'love interest'?

Then she offers some motherly advice, which I find a bit revealing about why she might have never been able to remarry...

And I'll tell you the same thing I would no matter what sex prefernce... Don't have sex lightly... I think... I know from hearing it, that masterbation is a big no-no, but I think 'self service is better than getting involved in a relationship based on lust. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you about STDs. A good rule of thumb in finding 'the one for you' is... make a list of the 10 things you must have... and the 10 things you just can't live with. For me I couldn't live with someone I can't talk with.. or who loves Country western Music or the Beatles..... and hates what I love in music... I can listen to some for a little bit, but I've got to have my stuff most of the time, I need someone who can love most of what I love... I'm sure that sounds shallow But you've got to know what you can live with. Someone who is never on time? always? mellow ? compulsive? honest? sloppy neatnic? Politically inline with you? etc.... if you can really make the two lists... and in talking to the person who you are interested, you can steer the conversation around to these topics with out being obvious...you have a better idea of if it can be a long term relationship...

And wrapping up one of her messages she reiterated

I am sorry you felt like I would have dissed you. I thought I had expressed that I loved you no matter what. you know... unconditionally......

I guess when I really think about it, I have a really wonderful mother. I hope she and I can become truly comfortable with everything. My prayers go out to the parents of all my fellow moho's who might not have as easy of a time with their folks. Good luck, it feels good to be "out".

CRASH!

I've been up since 4:30, when I was awoken by the sound of a woman screaming.

"Help, help us, somebody help!"

It was one of the most scary things I've ever heard. I jumped out of bed and ran to my window, opening it, trying to assess if it was safe to go investigate. My worst fear was that this woman was being attacked, or raped.

It was a car wreck. My roomate and I both ran out as his girlfriend dialed 911. "Grab the first aid kit", Joe reminded me. I ran out, and the pictures tell the tale. An SUV had hit a parked car flipped, and the passengers were trying to crawl out. Other men had gotten out just before and got the first woman pulled out. Coolant was on the ground, and radio music poured from the speakers.

I did not smell gas, thank God. I held the driver door open as a man who'd climbed up on top of the vehicle pulled the the four occupants out, one by one. I told the man on top to reach in and turn off the ignition and I turned off the headlights. Like I said, I didn't smell gas, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.

No one was badly injured. The driver had a cut on the bridge of his nose, and had blood in his mouth. I put on my latex gloves and wiped his blood off with gauze, then used alcohol to sterilize the cut that was visible. I wasn't sure what to do for the inside of his mouth. (He'd probably bitten down on his cheek or tongue when he impacted.) By that time, the fire department and the police showed up, and they took over. I was glad to have helped, and one officer even told me thanks for my help.

I don't really feel like I did anything major, but just having someone care for you in an incident like that probably was helpful in keeping him calm. I made him sit down while I cleaned him up.

Anyway, it's weird to think that my whole building ran out to help. Northridge hit Southern California at the same time of morning--I can only imagine what that must be like after an experience like this.

BTW, if you want to see the car being uprighted by the tow truck, click here.

The Difference Between Courage And Cowardice

While in therapy yesterday, I was explaining that since coming out, I've become more active and vocal regarding GLBT issues, because I feel it's my duty.  It would be selfish and irresponsible for me to let others do all the work for my equality, freedom and dignity.

But I never wanted to be a fighter.  I never wanted to have to stand up and defend myself.  I never wanted to make a statement.  I just wanted to live my life according to the dictates of my own conscience and be done with it.

"But", I said, "I force myself to do the things that I'm afraid of.  Because it's only by facing them that I can overcome the fear, and move towards being truly comfortable and at peace.  I guess that's the difference--".  At this point, a little switch clicked in my head.  I started crying. I paused as I let the words that were on the tip of my tongue roll around in my mind. "--the difference between a coward and and a courageous man, is action."

My therapist smiled--she saw the door opening, just a crack--and light of truth flooding around the frame.  I smiled, too.

"I know that both the coward and the courageous man are scared shitless--but the courageous man does what is right and true anyway."

I laughed and looked to my therapist. "So why don't I believe it?"

Emotionally Heightened

This morning as I was driving into work, I was listening to NPR.  They were doing a whole series of stories about Barack Obama and the activities and stories leading up to the inauguration tomorrow.

They started off with a story talking about how Barack Obama was taking today to visit people thank them for their service, and asked all Americans to take MLK Day as an opportunity to re-dedicate themselves to service.  This touched me, because just the other day I had decided to look into reading to children as a way to give back to the community.

Then they went on to report that Tuskegee Airmen (African-American fighter pilots from WWII) across America had been invited to have front row seats at the inauguration.  These men had been placed into a program that was designed to fail--they wanted to "prove" that African-Americans were incapable of piloting planes.  But they fought hard, and won the respect of many.

The man they interviewed had flown over 140 missions in WWII, and when he returned home to Los Angeles, he faced discrimination in his efforts to procure a home.  But he persisted, eventually becoming the cities first African-American realtors.  He's old and frail now, but listening to this man speak, I became overwhelmed with love and gratitude and joy for him.

I was driving southbound on the 101, heading into work, tears pouring down my cheeks.

He had to fight his entire life to get things that most people took for granted--but he stood his ground, loved his country and served others.  And thanks to sacrifices of thousands of men and women of all creeds and colors, we're going to be swearing in an African-American President.

I'm beaming with pride because I feel really optimistic about Obama.  Sure, he's just a man, and undoubtedly will make mistakes.  But he seems genuinely interested in listening to both sides of each issue and making the choice that he feels is best for the nation.  And most important of all, he's bringing America hope--hope that "Yes, We Can" build a better tomorrow.  And in the end, as Harvey Milk said, "you gotta give 'em hope".

Of course, I was immediately drawing parallels to the struggles the GLBT community.  When I consider how dramatically the world has changed in the last 60 years, I realize that I need to relax--we are on the right side of history, and I pray that before I'm an old man our nation will have learned to treat all it's citizens with dignity and respect.  That we will not be judged by the gender of our spouses, but by the content of our love.   That our nation will live up to the promises of it's most holy writ--the bill of rights. 

Yesterday, I passed the Hollywood Lutheran Church.  They had a huge banner outside their beautiful sanctuary that proclaimed their "No on 8" stance, and that they would continue to fight for marriage equality.   I pray that the first and most sacred amendment to our constitution, which proclaims that "congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof" will finally be respected.  Here is a church that welcomes, supports, and marries gay and lesbian couples--yet the force of law prevents them from having their unions treated equally under the law.

Anyway, I have been moved to tears multiple times today, and it's time I get back to work.

I'm very excited for tomorrow, and for the future in general.

And Here's The Response

So this is the response:

Hi Sweetheart, this will be short because the computer keeps crashing every few minutes...
I'm glad you told me and that you are at peace with yourself. Does that mean Joe is more than a roomie? Just wondered. Anyway... Gotta end before it crashes again... will get back to you. Just didn't want you to wonder if I'd gotten this.
Love Mom

No mention that nothing has changed. No mention of support or rejection. And considering my mom is online ALL THE TIME, this seems a pretty weird/lame excuse. She could call me, I even suggested it in a PS on my original e-mail (which I left off of the previous post).

She hasn't called. The two people in my family who've had the least to say about my coming out have been the two that are still most deeply entrenched in the church. I know that this is because they are following the adage "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". I realize she will need time to process, but I know that the reason she can't be immediately responsive is because she can't lie to herself or to me and tell me she's okay or that she supports me and that "nothing has changed"... because stuff has changed. I just threw a major kink into her vision for her children's future. And as an active memeber, she probably believes that my sexuality is a choice, or something she did wrong that caused it.

Frankly, (and it's going to sound cold to say this) I'm not going to let my mother worry me. I've extended my arms open to keep her a part of my life as I move into this new direction, and at this point the ball is in her court. She can either shoot the hoop or walk away. Who knows that that means, but the point remains. It's in her hands now.

I am sad she didn't call me, and I'm worried for what she might say in a longer e-mail.

Yikes.

Anyway, I'm lonely again on a Saturday night. *sigh*

The Letter's In The Mail

So I just hit send on my message to my mom. I felt like sharing it.

--------

Hey Mom,

I realize that it's been a long time since I wrote you a message of any major substance, but to be perfectly honest, I haven't really felt like talking to you much ever since you failed my litmus test.

You see, way back when I posted to my blog about the church's direct involvement with politics here in California, you responded by calling me a rebellious teenager, dismissed my questions and my invitation to discussion and understanding. I call this a litmus test because I've been filled with dread at the prospect of telling you something important.

I'm gay.

That's right, I like guys. I've known since I can remember, but I ran from it, fought it, prayed for it to go away, to change, so that I could be a good little Mormon and marry in the temple and go on a mission, but God has not seen fit to heal me.

I think that's because I'm not sick.

I've spent the best years of my life hiding, and being ashamed, and I'm not going to hide anymore. I'm slowly coming to accept and be at peace with myself as I am, and I hope you too can be at peace knowing that I love you and want you to be a part of my life.

I want to make it clear to you that this isn't anyone's "fault". You did the best you could raising all of your children--and I'm very blessed to have been sent to this earth to be in your care. I think of all the amazing things I was able to accomplish because of your unconditional love and support--my TV show, my radio show, plays, activities, etc. All because you chose to be a full-time mom.

You probably understand, better than most, the pain I've gone through in my life--you too had a vision of how your life was "supposed" to play out--you'd be married to a man for time and all eternity and raise many beautiful children who'd serve missions and have families--etc. And yet, something outside of your control sent you down a different path. I too grew up firmly believing that I should go on a mission, marry a woman in the temple, and have many children--and I really wanted that. But something outside of my control has sent me down a different path.

I wanted to tell you this in person, but I don't know how long it might be before I see you in person again, and I am tired of waiting to tell you.

Your loving son,

Ezra

May 21st, 2001

But I could only go two days.  It makes me cringe--I couldn't even write the words.

Dear Journal,

Today I had a major setback-recession if you will.  After a weekend of abstention, I did two P’s and 4 m’s—oh man, this is not cool at all.  I read an article in the newest issue of The New Era, and there was a short article on passing the sacrament by.  It made me feel funny because I have to do that.  Hopefully I’ll have the courage to talk to the Bishop about my other problem. [gay pornography/being gay] I love Jesus Christ and his plan of repentance.  It lets me make mistakes without condemning me forever.  Goodnight.  Ezra Horne.

No, but I condemned myself.