Warning; I never swear except in this post, Part Three

Actually, I'm finished with swearing and there isn't anymore, but this is a continuation of the previous post, so I'm keeping the title.

Following that online conversation, I actually talked with a couple of other trusted friends, revealing the extent and nature of the abuse and allowing myself to express anger about it. Their reactions were similarly accepting, loving, and supportive. I was surprised. This led me to an exploration of my feelings about Person One. I had not realized how much I despised this part of me. I did a lot of writing, and for the first time, I shared some of that with close friends, allowing them to see what I was thinking and feeling.

I told more people. Some of them took it well, and wanted to be of help. Others expressed their inability to cope with the nature of what I was talking about. Rather than feeling rejected by them, I felt I understood them--relating to my feelings of abhorrence when I first began confronting the problems of my past. Some of those who stepped back, have since come back to touch bases and find out how I'm doing. I'm realizing that people cope in different ways, and I'm working on not taking personally things that are not aimed at me. It has been a welcome surprise to have those who were appalled by my past, return to try to support me as I work through things.

There have also been some who have been solidly behind me for many months. Without wavering, they've listened to what I've needed to say, offered physical and virtual support, and loved me no matter what. This has been extremely important as I try to understand my own beliefs about my self-worth and feelings of guilt. Also, at this point, my parents and all of my siblings know of the abuse I suffered (although I haven't told them details--the time for that has not come, and it may never be the right thing to tell them), and three of the seven siblings also know of my sexual orientation.

A large part of all this, but also the newest part, has been the process of learning to cope with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and all it's side-effects. I have finally finished researching the illness and understand how it affects my everyday life. With Tolkien Boy's help (which he has offered for more than eight months--even though I asked for it for "two to three weeks"--silly me!), I've once again been able to control my nightmares and get some sleep. And in spite of my recent visit to the hospital's "Behavioral Health Unit", I feel better today than I have in more than a year.

I've noted some interesting things as I feel stronger:
1. My feelings are much more level--sometimes I worry that I'm reverting to my past numbness. But I don't really think that's it. I think I'm just not a highly emotional person. I cope with emotion slowly and methodically. I'm not ignoring things, or burying them, just waiting until I can process without interruption.
2. I don't feel the desperate need for human interaction that I've felt over the past year. I don't think this means that I'm less interested in friends or wanting to become isolated. I've always been happy in my own company, and I don't feel lonely when I'm alone. Solitude is important to me. I seek out other people, still, fairly regularly, but I can't deny who I am or force myself to be who I'm not. I spend more time with my chat windows off, not because I'm avoiding people, but because I'm thinking, processing, and at this point I need to do that without as much input from others. I have to know what I think. But if you've given me ideas, advice, or help of any kind, you should know that I'm thinking of that, as well. It's time for me to put everything together, and that requires quiet thought.
3. There is an amazing feeling of peace when I reflect on my past. I've met the man who abused me. That meeting was rather horrible, but also amazing, because I'm no longer afraid of him. There are two reasons for this, one is that he's just sort of a pathetic, middle-aged man, the second is that I arranged, met with, and controlled that meeting by myself--and thanked God that in the restaurant, Tolkien Boy's hand pushed me forward when I actually caught my first glimpse of my cousin and wanted to turn and run away. However, I did complete the meeting, and the times that I view myself as less than dirt are much less frequent. I'm slowly coming to realize that I'm okay, I'm not a contagious disease, and that good, worthwhile people actually care about me regardless of my past, but also as a result of past events, because those who love me want me to become whole.
4. Many of the overwhelming yearnings I've had are becoming more level. The urge to cut seems to have gone away. I'm eating well and had gained at least 10 pounds at my last weigh-in (and I look normal). For awhile there was a gnawing need to find a source of non-sexual touch outside of those who are related to me by blood or marriage (the ones who have to love me--it's required). That need was making me feel more dependent than was comfortable for me. I fought against it in every way I could devise. When I finally gave in, asked someone if he was willing to provide that for me, and accepted his affirmative answer, the need seemed to diminish. Today, it feels non-existant. For me, that's an amazing relief, because if someone hugs or holds me, I want it to be a mutually beneficial experience. If it happens because I'm horribly needy, I'd rather be dead. I know, extreme, but I'm just expressing how I feel.
5. I'm still an overachieving nut-case. I think I always will be. There are many things I thought would change as I've explored my past. The truth is that while I was definitely affected by the things that happened, most of who I am today is based on the person I would have become under any circumstances. The difference is that now I no longer despise the little girl who was trapped and harmed. I don't hate her for not seeking help--she didn't know how. I don't blame her for not making the abuse stop--it was not in her power. I do wish she hadn't had to endure the sadness and pain--rather, I wish I had not had to endure it. That is something I will always wish. But I also know that my life today is beautiful.

I am left with memories, occasional nightmares, and a trauma disorder. I have found friendship, courage, love and self-worth. I discovered a part of myself I had ignored. For months I watched her, nightly, as she coped with pain, cleaned up the mess, and longed for love. Vicariously, I gave that to her as I controlled my nightmares, and with his permission, used help from Tolkien Boy who held her as she slept, and eventually helped her to stop the abuse altogether. I have seen how she survived and grew into a successful businesswoman, creative musician, mother, and wife. Who can despise that? I can no longer.

IDAHO

Noun: homophobia
1. Prejudice against (fear or dislike of) homosexual people and homosexuality

I can't imagine anyone being afraid of me. For that matter, I consider myself fairly likable. However, I remember as a teen hearing some fairly nasty things that were said in reference to fags, dykes, gays and lezzies. Good friends of mine would make horrifying generalizations about people like me...

1. Lesbians hate all men.
2. Lesbians wish they were men
3. Lesbians are jocks who wear their hair short and are masculine.
4. Lesbians are ugly.
5. Lesbians are a menace to society because they recruit and seduce younger women.
6. Lesbians are mentally ill.

I heard the terms "dyke" and "lezzie" used to describe awkward or overweight girls. It was sometimes applied to young women who were strong or athletic. It always brought a sense of sadness to me, because I couldn't understand how the stereotype applied to me, or why there was such hatred behind it. I realized later that much of the fear and hatred is fostered in homes and churches where children are taught that homosexuality is a choice or a consequence that comes about because of sin. Naturally, I bought into that whole idea because I felt that somehow I was the most sinful individual ever born and that being homosexual was somehow a punishment for allowing my cousin to rape me.

Still, compared to the fear and anger levelled at gay men, the lesbians in my life got off fairly lightly. My best friend (straight) was somewhat of a late bloomer. He was slight of build and not really interested in girls and dating until we were Juniors. He was often called a fag (yeah--he played the clarinet), a "pretty boy", queer...one time someone put up pictures of naked women all over his locker (to my delight and his chagrin). And he wasn't the only one who was ridiculed. I happen to know that of those who were labeled and tormented, some of them truly were gay, and the things said were extremely hurtful. One of those young men told me that the thing that upset him the most was the intimation that he wanted to molest little boys. This particular young man was gentle and funny and sweet. My younger brothers adored him--and there is no way he would ever have hurt them.

Today the climate for those who are attracted to members of their own gender is much more moderate than it was when I was a teen. I would never have revealed my orientation to my closest friends and the only ones who knew were those who shared my plight. I remember a school trip where a young man from another school--popular, well-liked, nice-looking--came out to his friends. They were in a classroom at a junior college. The response was for the young women present to suggest that he try making out with them--it would "cure" him. He became upset, feeling that he was being mocked (and actually, I don't think he was--I believe those friends really thought he would change), and he began to cry, which is not something that you should do in front of a group of girls if you want them to leave you alone. I watched as his frustration grew with each tender touch intended for comfort, until he ran from the room and hid in the men's restroom until his coach dragged him out and onto the bus to go home. My thoughts were that he was pretty silly to tell his friends in the first place--but now that I understand that his parents were mostly absent and he was an only child, perhaps he wasn't so silly, after all. He was seeking for some support among the community in which he felt safe. Regardless of his needs, though, his friends reacted with the biases and judgements they had been taught, and what could have been a loving, supportive experience became one in which the young man felt abused and attacked--unfortunate, to say the least.

I've often wondered what I would do if my sexual orientation became widely known. A year ago the thought of it scared me to death, but during the past twelve months I've taken steps to make myself known to many friends and loved ones. Should the knowledge become common, I think I'll be fine. There will be those who will no longer associate with me. There will be some who will be "okay" with my orientation because I don't choose to act on it--but they'll still feel weird about me. But there will also be those who will hug me and who will not think differently of me at all. I told my high school and family friend, Larry, about my orientation in March. He laughed and said, "I just have to say two things. First, that completely explains why someone as beautiful as you married someone as ugly as Darrin. And second, now I understand why you never seemed at all interested in me in high school!" Just for the record, Darrin is not ugly. And even if I were straight, I don't think I'd have been interested in Larry--but you never know.

Last year I participated in a leadership meeting for the bishops in our stake, and I spoke at a stake conference meeting for the adults dealing with the topic of same-gender attraction. I've been somewhat side-tracked lately, as I've dealt with abuse issues and overcome some personal milestones. I don't intend to stop, however. The day must come when bishops no longer tell young men that they can be "cured" from homosexuality by ceasing porn and masturbation binges, when bishops don't shy from the topic--but will talk about it and allow those who come for counsel to also talk. The day must come when people within the church stop planning the final judgements and destinations of those who are gay, and instead work on learning how to love them while they live. It is absolutely unhelpful to hear the terms "Sodom and Gomorrah" linked to our lives, and those who isolate us are robbing themselves of some rich and rewarding friendships--and they are robbing us, as well, of their love and support--something to which all of God's children are entitled.

I know...it could just be a pipe dream that someday I can say in Relief Society, "It's been a particularly trying week for me...there's a really gorgeous girl at work...I'm finding it a little distracting and frustrating..." or "It's really comforting to me to remember that one of the things Christ felt during the atonement was the confusion and frustration that can come when I am strongly attraction to another woman and he understands how I feel..." Okay, it's not going to happen. But it would be nice to believe that if I did say something like that, I wouldn't be ostracized or stoned. Maybe in a few thousand years?

Ah, well, in any case, I wish everyone a happy International Day Against Homophobia. Next year we should have a party!