Coming Out to Ourselves

Balboa Press

Contents

1. Introduction.....................................................ix2. My Story.........................................................13. A Reward or a Punishment?........................................154. The Experience of Shame..........................................215. As Long as You Love Me...........................................296. Whose Truth?.....................................................337. The (Other) F-Bomb...............................................438. Take Care of Yourself............................................519. Religion and Spirituality for the Rest of Us.....................5510. Looking Back with Joy...........................................6111. The Gift of Change..............................................6712. Don't Take Anything Personally..................................7513. Why It Matters..................................................7914. The Next Chapter in Your Life...................................83

Chapter One

It can be very difficult for an only child when a sibling is born. We know the world revolves around us when we are young; but then all of a sudden, there arrives someone else for parents and grandparents to pay attention to! My twin brothers were born in 1963, but were very premature, and did not survive. Understandably, my family was devastated. I think I was probably sad, but also relieved that I wouldn't have to share my world with anyone else (although there would be no way in the world I would admit that).

My parents did the very best they could, working through their grief. But again, to a five-year-old, their feeling of pain and loss meant attention taken away from me. For years after, every Easter, we would go to the cemetery and I would stay in the car, while they walked down to my brothers' grave site, coming back with tears in their eyes. Yes, I know something bad happened, but I'm still here!

Two years later, when my sister was born, everyone was very happy. And I, of course, joined in. I helped out whenever possible in taking care of her, as well as doing chores around the house.

* * *

For those of us who are gay or lesbian, there probably isn't a date on the calendar that can be identified as the day we first knew. It was probably more of a feeling that we were somehow different, followed at some later point with curiosity, then questioning, and for many of us, then shame and terror. After all, what is worse to an adolescent than being called any of those horrendous names (and I'm sure you know the ones)? I believe I figured it out around the time I turned eight years old. I didn't know what to call it—I just knew that there was something.

Given the church's teaching of absolute damnation, plus the fear of not being loved (or possibly even being abandoned) since my sister was the "new kid on the block," a foundation of fear and self-hatred was created within me. If you really knew me, you couldn't possibly love me. So to avoid the world finding out, I became the best little boy in the world. I was always charming, always gracious, always anxious to help. I'll do anything you want me to, including abuse myself, or allow you to abuse me, as long as you love me. Several of the "friends" I spent time with were far less than friendly, but I settled for anyone I could get.

Food was a huge part of my young life, and I became overweight and then obese in grade school, and then in high school. It seems like I ate to get love and security from the food, but then also to give myself yet another reason to punish myself.

My father worked away from home in underground construction during this time; and while I can't recall the exact day and time, no doubt someone said, "You are going to have to be the man of the house, now." That statement, or at least that thought, played perfectly into my decision to be the best little boy in the world. I took responsibility for everything—if someone wasn't happy, it was no doubt my fault. If I take care of it for you, that means you'll love me and not abandon me, right? Because, as I said earlier, if you really knew the truth of who I am, you'd run in the other direction. It's heartbreaking to realize that as we try to keep others from abandoning us, we really are abandoning ourselves.

* * *

The interpersonal dynamics of high school were a pretty big shock. I had attended a Lutheran day school for grades 1 through 8, which is where I found some measure of attention and acceptance. I had been very involved in volunteer activities at the Lutheran school, in pretty much every area except athletics and music, and so most everyone knew and liked me. There was, of course, that increasingly nagging problem related to my sexual orientation; but I just kept that locked in the back of my mind, so no one knew. Since there were only about 150 students at that school, imagine my shock the first day of high school, where there were about 1,500.

I was absolutely not part of any of the groups of "beautiful people" (athletes, the very intelligent group, etc.), so I was able to just blend in pretty well. Except in gym class, that is, which was a disaster in a variety of ways. My two close friends were not part of the "in crowd," either. One of them, who was a year behind me, was pretty obviously gay. He experienced teasing and bullying in the locker room and other places. After finding out I was spending time with him, someone close to me cautioned me, reminding me that often people are judged by the company they keep. God forbid that people would see us together and think I was gay. Another nail in the coffin, where my sexuality, at the time, resided.

During high school, my church activities dropped off, slowly but surely. However, I was in continuous contact with God, begging and pleading that He would make me "normal."

After high school, I went away to college for a year. The independence of being away from home was liberating, but I found that college wasn't for me; so, I returned home and went to work for a bank. I was having a great time at work, and I think that helped give me the confidence and motivation to go on a food and exercise program, which allowed me to drop about 60 pounds. I moved out of my parents' house and into my own apartment. Although I was still in the closet, every once in a while there was a little light coming from the other side of the door.

The nibbles of independence I'd experienced made me want to take a big bite, and it was time for a complete change of scenery—some place new and different, where no one knew me. I found a job with a savings and loan in Los Angeles, and moved to the San Fernando Valley in 1978.

I'd spent some time in Los Angeles when I was in college, but that was pretty much always with my roommate or other friends. Being on my own in a new place was awesome! I was still too afraid to go into the candy store (if you know what I mean), but at least I could stand at the window (or drive by) and look. But then several weeks after moving in, I finally got up the courage to take a drive to San Francisco for the weekend.

I had actually ventured into an adult bookstore in Hollywood (gulp) and bought a book that listed places where men go to meet men, so I knew where I was going. At last, I had my first gay experience ... which I could only describe as...