Author's note: Sorry to keep you hanging! I was recently rejected from my dream job (I want to write for an LGBTQ organization) without being invited to interview, and it sent me spiraling into depression. As part of the healing process, I decided to take a page from my own book and Take a Selfish by relaxing and practicing self-care.
I came out to my brother not long after my mother, and by using the same approach: telling him I had "feelings for guys." More than anything, I think he was surprised. If memory serves me, he hadn't really had prior experience with anybody in the LGBTQ community. Nevertheless, even if he wasn't overt in his support, it was there.
From this point, the details become a little murky. I think my mom's inability to unconditionally love me, combined with my delusion that God/god would "cure" me when I turned 21, made me very uncomfortable with the fact that she wielded such a potentially damaging piece of information about me. I otherwise had no support network; nobody with whom I felt comfortable discussing my sexuality.
So, what did I do? Rather than deal with my mother's social and religious views, I went back into the closet by telling both my brother and her that I no longer felt an attraction to guys. Thus began the loneliest and most depressing chapter of my life.
My brother and I still played bowling together, but the dynamic began to change. I don't think he ever fully believed I was "cured," and that fostered an awkward and tense atmosphere. Once he and his now ex-wife announced they were having their first child in 2000, he (through no fault of his own) had much less time to spend with me. Add to that the fact that I was immature and bitter that, in my mind I had seemingly lost one of my two best friends, and we drifted apart for years.¹
I continued to occasionally visit my friend Brandon for a few years, but this also came to a halt in 2000. One day, I had the brilliant idea that I would try calling his brother, on whom I had a crush, to ask him to hang out. He declined my invitation. He probably wasn't free that day (not to mention the fact that I put him in an awkward situation), but I took it as a rejection and used it as a catalyst to let my friendship with Brandon expire.
Are you starting to notice a trend? I had developed a martyr complex akin to my mother's. During this time, I was mentally and emotionally immature, something that would last into early adulthood and greatly impact my ability to maintain meaningful friendships.
Throughout the rest of high school, the only connections I maintained were through cyberspace. For the most part, I holed myself up in my bedroom, participating obsessively in unproductive activities: playing video games for hours on end (oh, how I wish I still had the time), watching various television shows on repeat and pouring countless hours into a web community I built surrounding one of those series.
Since I was now back in the closet and had set a date for God/god to "cure"me, I took full opportunity of my newfound freedom to explore the darkest corners of the internet to feed another obsession: watching porn. And, since I knew I would never be able to act on my feelings, I wound up chatting with various gay people online.
In 2001, I created a profile on Planet Out, a gay dating website. I was desperate to meet somebody local who I could open up to (among other things for which I discovered I was not emotionally ready). Through this, I met Rich, a closeted gay teen who lived just a few miles away. We fast became email pen pals and would exchange frequent emails about our lives and family troubles. I offered him terrible advice I picked up from countless hours watching television sitcoms and dramas, and he helped me through my problems with practical guidance grounded in the real world.
Rich and I continued like this for at least a year. Neither of us was ready for anything more, but I gave him my number in case he would like to communicate by way of phone. This step proved a bit much for Rich, who wasn't ready to develop our virtual friendship into something more tangible, and we fell out of contact.
After I "finished" high school,² I started taking classes at community college. This was a transitional period. For the most part, outside of vacations and church, it was my first extended time spent outside my parents' house - and further, outside a 200 square foot box - in years. And that's not to mention the fact that I had been deprived of meaningful in-person interactions with people for long enough to severely stunt my social, mental and emotional capabilities.
From this point forward, I viewed every step into adulthood I took as monumental. I had no yard stick to measure against, so even actions others would have viewed as the bare minimum effort for passage into self-sufficiency became larger than life. And starting college was no exception.
I saw this as an opportunity to wipe the slate clean. I stopped waiting for an unseen entity to "cure" me and decided I was going to live out my life as a straight person. I scrubbed the couple dozen three and-a-half inch floppy disks that housed my unhealthy porn addiction, closed my Planet Out profile, and deleted the email account that housed all my correspondences with Rich.³
Check back soon for part five! I think I'm getting close to concluding this miniseries, but it all depends on how many relevant memories come back as I chronicle this turbulent time.
Notes
¹ My mom may have also poisoned my mind. In her twisted way of protecting me from hurt, she had a habit of placing blame squarely on others, even when I had a role to play. I think she harbored anger toward my brother, because she believed he simply stopped caring about me.
² I never actually graduated from high school. My online home school provided the guidelines for completion, then suddenly tacked another course onto their requirements. The local community college did not require a high school diploma or even a GED for admission, so I decided to forego a high school diploma in favor of higher education.
³ This is one of my biggest regrets. Since I have effectively blocked most of my childhood memories, I remember little of my early conversations with Rich. And since he switched email clients during this period, his messages are also lost to the ages.
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