12 posts tagged “family”

This is a long one, mainly because I’m at home and have nothing else to do. Enjoy!

This past weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with my parents, my brother, his wife, and their daughter. It was really a great weekend. My brother, Rusty, is a very busy guy and we’re often separated by both distance and our own schedules, so it’s nice to get to spend some time with him. I used to see him all the time. Even after he moved away from home, he still worked at the high school that I attended, so I saw him every day and he was right there with me as I grew up. Because of this, we’re incredibly close. He’s much older than me, so in a lot of ways he’s like a second dad, and that makes me feel very blessed to have these types of mentors and guides around.

My close bonds with both my father and brother are mainly what has turned me off to the assertion that homosexuality is caused by a stunted or immature sense of masculinity. These guys have always supported me. I take the bonds I have with them, as a son and a brother, very seriously. I’ve always been assured that I was a man, even though I’m more artistic and gentler and stereotypically “feminine” than most guys. They’ve always been there for me. In fact, on the list of people that I felt comfortable “coming out” to, my brother and father were right at the top. Even after I’ve come out, they’ve continued to support me. It hasn’t changed our relationship at all, and in fact we’ve grown much, much closer.

Still, I am the youngest son and the little brother. I don’t mind those roles, of course, and I couldn’t help them. At the same time, it’s a little irritating to be the smallest. I don’t consider myself immature, nor do I see my sense of masculinity as such, but I still am young and so I still need advice and support every now and then. It’s nice to know that people have my back, but every now and then I want to know that I can have someone else’s back, and more importantly, that someone else needs me to have their back. Yes, I have my father and brother’s backs, but let’s be honest here: they don’t need my advice or opinion on much, since usually that type of advice is shaped by what they’ve raised up in me.

So, among my friends I’ve usually seen myself as a “big brother” type figure. I try to be the guy that has other people’s backs, who can spout off good advice and that people can come to when they just need someone to talk and listen. I think some people add this to my somewhat “feminine” nature and think that I’m being motherly, which is fine by me because it’s led to some good jokes on my friends’ part, but it’s not what I’m going for. I have a natural urge to care and look out for people, because I’ve always been cared and looked out for and I want to give that back. I just want to do it in a way that is distinctly brotherly. I think that requires a bit more personal space than mothering done. A brother looks out for you, but mainly he only does it so you can look out for yourself. This is also, incidentally, I think one of the main reasons I want to be a teacher.

Being a generally brotherly figure is something I try to do, then, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. Most guy friends are seen as being brotherly anyway, even when they’re being friends to girl (I have a lot of sisters out there, I guess). I was surprised, then, when one of my close friends recently took to calling me “brother” and “big bro.” Usually, the only person I address as “brother” is my actual brother, Rusty. He calls me the same as well (in English or in Spanish, which is kind of a weird quirk we have). It’s kind of an exclusive term, to the point where I don’t usually like when other guys call me “bro” (even in a Christian setting. I know we’re all spiritual brothers out there, but come on now).

Anyway, this friend is named Shane (well, not really, but for the purposes of anonymity he will be). He’s not the kind of friend that I would have expected to have. He lived in the dorm where I work, so that’s how we met. He’s a Buddhist, and also gay. We don’t really have much in common, but we became friends anyway. I was dating Hitch when we first started getting to know each other, and through that situation I explained to him my views about sexuality, religion, and celibacy. He didn’t agree, of course, but he was respectful (I’ve found that to be the case with most gay guys, actually. It’s a lot of my Christian guy friends who have problems for some reason). When Hitch and I broke up, he was there for me, even though I was doing okay and realized that dating Hitch probably wasn’t the best decision I could have made to start with (even though I don’t regret it because it taught me a lot of important lessons).

Now Shane had had a pretty rough year that year, mainly because he, like so many other freshmen, had come to college and decided to be a little too rebellious since he was finally away from home. He made some bad decisions, in both academics and relationships, and through it all I tried to give him the best advice I could, while being there to help him when he stumbled. It’s not quite the same situation as helping a Christian friend, because a lot of the beliefs and views are different, and thus solutions are also different. But still, I did what I could, and always showed him that I was there for him if he needed me.

We’ll be roommates in my apartment next year, and it should be interesting. Shane says I can be a little annoying sometimes, but he says he knows I care, which is why he started calling me “brother.” I call him the same thing, and it’s the first guy that I’ve actually felt was worthy of the title. My relationship with him isn’t totally based off helping him, of course, because he can put me in my place quite often as well. I haven’t made any headway into helping him become Christian or renounce gay sex, but I’m really trying to leave those particular things in God’s hands. He knows what I think, so I’m not going to pester him about it. That really would be annoying of me. Just knowing that two people who are so different can call each other brothers is quite a jump in itself, I think. Maybe a brotherly approach is something Christians should use to reach out more often.

Whew, that was long. Peace out, everybody.

If there's one subject that SSA-strugglers seem to write about a great deal, it's loneliness. I suppose when the potential for a spouse and children seems dim, people tend to put a great deal more worry into whether or not they will end up alone. This certainly isn't exclusive to SSA-strugglers. I have several straight friends (my age, even!) who, for one reason or another, worry about ending up alone and unloved. Worrying about loneliness is simply a human problem, and sometimes very bad decisions come out of a desire to simply not be alone (if you've ever known anyone who can't go two weeks without being in a relationship, you know what I mean.)

I've often heard sound Christian advice given to those who deal with loneliness (of all orientations and walks of life.) It usually goes along the lines of, "Let Christ be your companion in lonely times. Let Him fulfill your desires for intimacy." Now, like I said, that's very good advice. When one feels lonely, instead of turning to despair and cynicism, they should turn to the Bible and meditations on Christ instead. That sounds a lot simpler than it really is (trust me, I know!), but if the advice is truly taken to heart, it works. However, there are other ways to let Christ be your companion, and they don't all involve sitting at home with your Bible in hand.

Over Spring Break, I spent most of my time at home. None of my old friends from high school were on break at the time (and I seriously fault the UNC system for not synchronizing the Spring Breaks of its many branches.) My parents were in and out, and remember that I live in a very isolated neck of the woods, about a mile and a half from the main road on an old farm. Needless to say, I was very lonely and bored.

I realized that my grandmother, who has been widowed now for more than a year (from her husband of 60+ years), might want some company. I visited her, and I have to say I really enjoyed the experience. She's a very tough old woman, but she's sad and lonely for the most part nowadays. Yes, she gets regular phone calls and visits from my mother, father, aunts, and uncle, but apart from that she spends her time alone in her old house, attending to daily chores that she's performed for years and years. I can relate to that type of loneliness in some ways, because I've imagined (in moments of fear and doubt) that it could happen to me. However, can I say I've actually experienced it? No. Not at all.

So I visited with my grandmother and tried my best to ease some of her loneliness. At the same time, I found that my own fears and doubts about ending up old and alone were calmed. The thing is loneliness is a fact of life, at least for those who grow old. You have to deal with it, and I think one of the best ways to deal with it is to find others who are also lonely. It's an elementary solution, if you think about it. I'm sure any Christian knows that helping others often helps the helper as much as it helps those that were helped (enjoy that sentence, why don't you?)

But you can't just sit around and wait for people to find you and fill your life. Sure, my grandmother doesn't get out much, but at the same time she's elderly and many of the people that she would visit have passed on. If I'm lonely, however, there's nothing stopping me from calling a friend or family member. There's nothing stopping me from being there for someone else when they need me. Whatever you do, it will be done back to you. So, if you don't want to end up alone and unloved, then you had best get to easing the loneliness of others and loving others.

To be fair, these ideas aren't all mine. Hitch was noticing my slightly reclusive nature and, frankly, was getting a little annoyed by my constant worries about the future. There's only one future, though, and that's the one I make. I can't whine about being lonely when I'm sitting home alone, unwilling to go out and visit people. He was right there, and I hope to take his advice to heart and spread it around. Take care, everyone!

I realized the other day that "musician" is one of the words that I use to describe myself in my Blogger profile. However, I've never really clarified what I mean by "musician." At the time I wrote the profile, I was learning to play guitar, and I assumed that by the end of that year I would be fairly good. That, I'm afraid, was a poor assumption. I simply did not have the time to continue practicing guitar, and I did not have enough passion for the instrument to make time to learn it.

However, I still consider myself a "musician" in some ways. I come from a very musical family. My dad actually is a musician, and music of all types could always be heard in the atmosphere of my home. I'm always listening to something, singing something, or humming the tune to some very random, off-the-wall song. I don't know how well I can sing in comparison to other people (although I do know that I can carry a tune), but I know that I certainly like to sing, and that's enough for me.

Anyway, this love of singing helped me sign up for a karaoke competition that my college is doing. In a knock-off of "American Idol," the contest held auditions in each of the dorms and apartment complexes across campus. One contestant will be selected from each area, and later this month all the contestants will sing a song, karaoke-style, in front of over 1,000 people. There's a pretty nice prize for the winner, so I thought it couldn't hurt to try out.

I auditioned last night. There were only about seven people from my apartment complex signed up, so the competition wasn't too large, I suppose. I sang Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Oddly enough, I wasn't nervous at all going in. I am rarely nervous, actually. However, as I was singing my heart started to flutter, and my voice cracked a little about halfway through the song. I finished the best I could, and left a little embarrassed. At least I had fun hanging out with the other contestants while I was waiting for my turn!

Anyway, I doubt I'll win my area. Some of the girls that were auditioning could really sing and took voice lessons. Either way, I'm surprised that the thought of winning, which means I'll have to perform in front of a huge crowd, doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I'd really like the opportunity to perform in front of a huge auditorium full of people. Isn't that strange for someone who, in a lot of ways, considers himself shy? Perhaps performing is different than normal social situations.

I'm certainly a quiet person in my day-to-day life. I'm involved in tons of stuff and try to talk to everyone, but I don't really say much of substance, if you know what I mean. I'm a bit plain, even though I'm involved. That's fine with me. It's my personality. It's just not exactly the kind of personality that one would expect from someone who likes the thought of being a performer. I mean, I'm applying to be on the next season of "Survivor," yet I consider myself quiet and plain.

Am I just a little delusional, or is it really possible to be shy, yet at the same time willing to show your bare essence -- whether it be through stage, music, writing, or television -- to groups of total strangers? It's weird. I guess I just have a tendency to wear lots of different personalities and hats, depending on the situations and company. Maybe I have a split personality. :)

Well, thanks for reading this random introspection. Hope you all have a great day!

Well, Thanksgiving Break was a nice time for me. I got to see my family, some friends, and eat a lot of good food. It really was a blessing to be around all the people I love, but that's not what this post is about, and I'm sure you guys know that.

Over break I found an opportunity to finally come out to my parents. I was nervous as heck about it and had to pray a lot beforehand. I also had some friends who knew I was about to go in for the kill and they prayed along with me. They know who they are, and if they're reading this, thanks again guys! You're a blessing.

I won't go into all the details, mainly because I'm sure a lot of the conversation (which lasted for four hours) is something that many of you have heard before. Yes, there was a bit of denial going on with my folks. Remember, they're in their mid-60s, and they're a little naive about what "gay" even means. They went from thinking that I simply was reacting against bad experiences with girls (experiences that I tried to stress were bad because I was gay), to thinking that I simply had not met the right girl, to thinking that I had been influenced or indoctrinated into thinking I was gay. I suppose those reactions happen even with the most liberal parents. I'll admit it hurt a bit, but other than that the tone of the conversation was pretty mild, like any of our other arguments about politics, religion, or philosophy.

I had started by telling my parents that I was celibate. Then I told them I was gay, then I told them about my boyfriend. It was probably a little too much to take in for one night, but I was just so excited to get things off my chest that I probably wasn't thinking too clearly. The good part is they understand and accept my celibacy. They also think that everyone is somewhat bisexual (remember, they're hippies), and that I'm too young to say I'm "one way or the other." I'll give them that, though I will say that some people are more bisexual than others. ;-)

At the very least, there was hugging and many repetitions of the phrase "I love you." There was even an unexpected high-five from my mom when I told her some of the compliments that Hitch has given me. I have a feeling high-fives don't happen often in coming out stories. The day after we went to church and visited my grandma and life went on like normal. I understand that everything takes time and eventually my parents will understand who I am a bit more. Right now they don't, but that's okay. They don't have to understand completely. In fact, it would be nearly impossible for them to understand completely. They are my parents, and they are there to love me. They still do, and they stressed that. I will always have a place in our family, no matter what. I'm so grateful for that. After all, home isn't the place where you are the most understood or even the most loved. It's the place where, if you have to go there, they have to take you in. I'm still fortunate to know that I have a home.

Also, now that my parents know of my sexual preferences they just might look at my Internet history. If they do, they might see this blog (and if you're reading this, hi guys!) So, if I go offline or something, you'll know why. I'm seriously not expecting that to happen, though. Do remember that I maintain two blogs with the exact same content, though. Happy trails!

Okay, I wrote about this a year ago and nothing has really changed. I really am ready to come out to my parents. I'm out to pretty much everyone else I know and I'm loving it, because it's just nice not to have to pretend. It's nice to know that the people you care about know a bit about where you're coming from, and aren't assuming things about you that aren't true.

That being said, I had plenty of opportunities to tell my parents this weekend and I... just... couldn't... do... it. The words got stuck as they were about to pass from my lips, and if they had blurted out I probably would have had a heart attack. I really was that anxious about the whole thing. The worst part is I don't know why.

Like I said before, I am confident that my parents' reactions won't be that bad. I guess I'm just a little scared because my mind always seems to jump to the worst possible reaction. I know guys who didn't get the chance to come out. They were dragged out by parents who couldn't possibly accept the fact that their sons were gay, and who essentially kicked them out when they found out the truth. I am blessed to know that my folks won't even consider doing something like that, so what am I scared of?

I had a good opportunity this weekend. My dad and Mom were talking about parenting in general, and I overheard Dad say, "We may not always agree with what our kids do, but our job is to support them no matter what." I mean... seriously? What better chance did I have? I should have busted in there and said, "Well, looks like I'm in luck, Padre!"

But... nope... couldn't do it. Does anyone (gay, ex-gay, heck...even straight!) have any good advice? I mean, I know that I should wait for the right time, but even when the time is right I can't bring myself to pluck up the courage.

I recently read that the relationship one has with his earthly father is often the starting point for how he views his Heavenly Father.  Unfortunately I can't remember where I read this statement (it was simply a one-liner in the middle of a longer work on an unrelated topic), but I was intrigued by the concept.  Surely I don't think that we should go around judging people's relationships with their parents based on their religious beliefs, but as a means of self-analysis I think looking at one's relationship with their father might be a good way to look at one's relationship with God.

I know that personally, I have always been able to relate to God in His role of Creator more than any other role.  This is, I think, because my own father is a creator, and I was taught to value creativity and artistry at an early age.  In fact, if I could name one activity of mine that makes me feel closest to God, it is when I am creating.  I don't create intrinsically "Christian art," but as Madeleine L'Engle wrote in Walking on Water, all good art is essentially Christian, since all things that are good come from God.  (Of course, I'm not saying my art is exactly good, either, but I'm working on it ;-)

I guess I've always seen God foremost as a grand artist.  When I was younger, I could literally see Him in everything, just like I was taught to see good and beauty in everything from bones to trees to animals to skyscrapers.  If those feelings have waned, it is because I am older and have lost a bit of the sense of innocence that we all have when we are younger.  Still, nothing has stopped me from seeing God's brush-strokes everywhere, from the rhythm of a city street to the melody of a Bob Dylan song.  I guess I'm just rambling here.  I just was thinking about my (somewhat weird) parents today and thought that I should thank them, because I know that the way I see God today is related to the fact that I was raised by artists, and that has done more good for me than a "normal" white-picket fence upbringing could have ever done.

My grandfather passed away yesterday. He was living in a nursing home and would have turned 85 later this month. Though I was expecting to get the call about his death sooner or later, it still hurts terribly. I am blessed to have such a great group of friends around. While I was working at the desk last night, I was given a sympathy card with everyone's signatures on it. I'm truly blessed to have those friends, and to have known my grandfather. He was quite a character: strong and stubborn till the end, but with a soft heart when it came to children. I'm going to miss him.

You know, I said in the last post that I'd post "tomorrow." And of course that turned into four days later. Hey, it's not my fault. I had an Algebra exam to study for, which I took today, and which I'm pretty sure I failed. (Curse you logarithms!) Anyway, I'm done with it now, so I can have a nice, restful weekend before I start stressing out about the Algebra final. ;)

So, the other day I was in the common room and the new season of The Real World came on. It's in Denver this time around, but to tell the truth I haven't really watched the show since the Chicago season (I loved Tonya. I'd hate her in real life, but she made for good TV. I know, that's trashy American media for you. They don't call it a guilty pleasure for nothing). Okay, so back to the point. This season on TRW there is a gay man named Davis. Usually I hate the gay men that have been placed on the show in recent years, because (like most of the cast members) they are petty, selfish, promiscuous, and simply not good role models, yet at the same time claim to be "representing" their community. Hmm. I could do without that kind of representation, to be honest. Then again, I think all young adults could do without the representation that TRW has to offer.

But Davis, for a change, actually seems like a nice, down-to-earth guy. He's a Southern Baptist, and has been through some type of ex-gay counseling before (though he wasn't specific). He's definitely a Side A, but, as far as I can see, he doesn't drink, doesn't go to gay bars, and has a steady boyfriend. He really seems like the nicest person on the show.

During the first episode, Davis talked with one of the other cast members about his relationship with his mother, which he said went downhill quickly after he told her he was gay. He said she no longer returns his phone calls, said he was "filled with demons," is "in danger of Hell," and cries every time she sees him. Hmm. Can we put those down in a guide entitled "What a Christian Parent Shouldn't Do If Their Child Comes Out?"

This got me thinking about my own relationship with my parents. I've yet to "come out" to any family member other than my brother, and even he and I have only spoken about the issue once (I couldn't really bring myself to tell him about the whole celibacy thing at the time, because I knew he wouldn't agree. I mentioned "spiritual conflict," and that was about as close as I came). He's very accepting, though, and I can't ask for too much more. I'm sure my sister will be too.

Mom and Dad, on the other hand.... Well, the situation's a little more up in the air where they're concerned. I know for a fact that they won't pull something like Davis' mother. That's just not who they are. But other than that, I don't really know how they'll react. I've never really heard definitive views on homosexuality from either of them, though there is a gay man within Mom's circle of friends, and Dad's never hinted that he's anything but fine with it. Then again, there are many things that people are fine with when it's not their family.

I guess I just don't know what to expect when I come out to them. I like the way our relationship is right now, and I don't want it to change (you could say that I'm still in the closet, but I kinda like it there!) It might be a while before I come out, anyway. Mom is going through some stress right now and I don't want to add any more to the heap. I need to wait for the right time, because I'm sure that the conversation will be a very long and interesting one (let's face it; it's a little more awkward because of my somewhat unique views about the whole thing.) Truthfully, I don't know if they haven't already guessed. Rusty admitted to having been suspicious, and it's been a while since Mom or Dad asked "met any pretty girls lately?" ;)

Wherever the conversation goes, I have a pretty good idea of where it might end. Over Thanksgiving break Mom and I were riding back from church (Dad was at an art show). She was silent for a while, before blurting out. "You know what, Jay? You're the nicest person I've ever met." Here's to hoping that opinion doesn't change.

Well, I'm back at college, and I am relieved. Don't get me wrong, I loved going home and everything, but it just didn't feel the same. Mom had moved a bunch of boxes and other things into my room, so the feng shui was a little off there, and I had a hard time getting to sleep in my old bed. Plus, the hot water went out halfway through the week, as did the phones (which meant no Internet at all -- say it ain't so!) Not only that, but my high school football team -- which had been having a perfect 12-0 season, lost the one game that I went to and were eliminated from the state playoffs. Then my 83-year-old grandfather took a nasty fall and had to be rushed to the hospital. (He's fine, by the way, but he might not be able to live at home for much longer).

Yeah, other than that, it was a pretty good holiday :-/ Seriously, I enjoyed seeing all my family and friends (not to mention the food! -- caramel apple pies from Sam's Club are where it's at). It's just that things didn't really feel the same. People had different haircuts, were up to new things, etc. Not that I didn't enjoy it less, but it just felt less like home than it did last time. Then again, it is less of home, when I get down to it. In a few years, it won't be home. A little sad, but I'm kinda excited.

Well, I'll blog something of substance tomorrow. There are lots of things on my mind that I could probably write 5-page essays about, but I'm a little too bogged down in Algebra homework to do that right now. So, I'll just leave on a light note: I saw Breakfast at Tiffany's for the first time last night, and it was just short of being a life-changing experience. Seriously, it's in my top ten movies now (might even be in the top five). O, Audrey, how I love thee.

Peace, everyone
Jay