Control

It seems like people are always trying to gain control what happens in their lives. And yet, if one where to ever really gain control over their life, they would also gain control over something for which they probably had not planned. Just as we don't get to control the circumstances of our births, so we also do not get to control the circumstances of our deaths. Not even those who attempt or commit suicide always have it happen as they plan. But, whether we like it or not, death is a part of life.

But, if we cannot control our lives, what about the lives of others. The power to dispense death is something anyone can wield, but the power to dispense life is something that was once the purview of those in authority only. Now, that power resides with those in the medical profession, or so they think. But now, I am faced with the power over the life of someone. And it is not just anyone. I now have a say over the life of the person who gave life to me, my mother.

Her health is very poor and the doctors say that she will most likely never recover to be any better than she is now. She had suffered three strokes, has congestive heart failure, a genetic form of cirrhosis of the liver, and is diabetic. She recovered from the first two strokes with no permanent damage. This last stroke left her having what they call seizures where she seems to just lose all mental abilities and she becomes non-responsive. Sometimes (becoming fewer with each seizure) she is fairly normal. But when she has a seizure, she just sits and stares into space, looking around at nothing. When she speaks, random words come out of her mouth in what she thinks is a coherent sentence. Even when she is in her right mind (or as much as possible) she get very frustrated at not being able to express her thoughts. She can't think of words or mis-orders them. And each seizure seems to make things worse.

So now the decision must be made by my brother and me: if the occasion calls for it, should she be resuscitated. The idea of having my mother's life depending on a decision that I make is very nearly overwhelming. My mother always wanted to be resuscitated because she wants to see her grandchildren, my brother's daughter and soon-to-be-born son, grow up. But with her condition the way it is now, that is very unlikely even if she is alive. So, after much thought, after five plus years of hellish lows and all-too-few highs, after taking care of her as much as I am able, I have decided to not have her resuscitated when the time comes. I have informed my brother of this, and advised him to talk to her doctor to get a better idea of the condition she is currently in. I know that she is really already gone, but as long as her body lives I can't help but hope for some kind of miracle that would restore her mind. I know that the real decision is not between keeping her alive and letting her die, but between releasing her soul and keeping it trapped in a deteriorating body. She is not in pain now, but if we keep her alive, will she be someday? Can I live with the knowledge that we put her in that condition?

The maybe's have run out. The questions about what the doctors can do are at an end. It is time to let her rest in peace. I do not know when it will happen, but I pray that God will take her sooner than later and let her rest in His arms.

Nobody knows what it's like...

Lately my life has been a mess, or as much of a mess as God will allow it to be. My mother is extremely ill and there is only so much I can do for her. This is causing me not to sleep well at night, which is furthering the funk I have been in. I wouldn't call it depression because I don't throw that term around (like others tend to do) for when I am down. I have been depressed, to the point of suicide, and know what that is like, and am nowhere near that now. But I think I am probably below the level of a funk. Oh well, life goes on.

But when I can't sleep, my mind wonders and thinks about things, sometimes I think too much about things. But last night I was thinking about a song that I heard yesterday. I had heard it numerous times before, but for some reason I couldn't get it out of my mind. It is Behind the Blue Eyes by The Who. The first line "Nobody knows what it's like to be the bad man" just kept ringing in my head. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe it was because I was thinking that I was a bad man at the time. See, I nearly "hooked up" with a guy last night. We had talked several times via email, and he was curious about my being gay and what it was like. He, too, lived in Wilmore, was married, and is starting back to college this fall. Well, tonight he wanted to come over and talk face to face. I said it was okay, not sure if he was a student wanting to use me for a paper, or just wanted to further talk about being gay in Wilmore, or what he wanted. Well, it turns out he had wanted to come over and make out. He was curious about what it was like to be with a man. Now, I have very limited experience with men, and have not done anything in over six years. One reason for this is because the few times I did hook up after my first time were enjoyable but empty. It was all physical. I didn't even know if I knew the guy's real name. So I decided not to do anything again until it was with a life-time partner, which brings me to the other thing that has kept me celebate for the last several years. His name is Bryan.

I met him here at seminary ten years ago and, even though I was not even out to myself at the time, I felt a strong attraction to him. That connection turned into a friendship that lasted for several years. At the time I didn't know if he was gay or not. I only knew that I had feelings for him that I had never had for anyone else before. Well, it turns out that he was "struggling" with homosexuality like I was. He and the roomate he had one summer, who was another friend of mine, "messed up" that summer, which ruined their friendship, and damaged the friendship I had with both. After Bryan left here, we rarely talked, but I never lost the feelings I had for him. Over the next several years, he spend thousands, possibly tens of thousands of dollars on ex-gay therapies and counseling and books and tapes and whatever else he could get his hands on that would make him straight. When we did talk, he told me of the pain he felt as things were dug up in therapy to explain his homosexual tendencies, although he always got more information out of me than I did from him. I tried to be completely open with him, answering each question he put to me. But he always kept me at arm's length when I asked things about him. Both this distance and the pain he was going through really tore at my heart.

Finally he got married, but by now I knew I was in love with him and couldn't bring myself to attend the wedding. The attraction I felt for him was not only physical, although that was there. I was attracted to his personality, character, the fact that we had similar interests, and just him over all. When he was happy, I was happy. When he was hurting, I hurt. Even after he got married, I prayed that he would be happy in that, despite the fact that it meant I hardly saw him. If he was happy, that was what was important. Well, they were together for a year, seperatated for a year, and finally divorced. I tried to be there for him if he needed anything but he wasn't very responsive. He said that when he got down, he shut people out. So I decided to do something I have never done before in my life. I forced myself on him. I didn't just stand back and say "we'll do something some time" and let him keep putting it off. I decided to take the initiative and say that I wouldn't let him withdraw. I told him that we were going to get something to eat and go to a movie and that was that. He was totally open to this and ever since then we have gotten together every few weeks to do something. I have not asked him about anything private yet, like is he still straighten out or is he gay or is he still gay and wanting to be straight? I don't want to push him away. But regardless of what he is, he is still Bryan, and he still has my heart, and I don't think that will ever change. Ideally, one day, we could be together, but I know that is not very likely. But I also know that, as of now, I can not see myself being with anyone else. I have never told anyone about my feelings for Bryan, not even him. One day I hope to get the courage to tell him how I feel. But it won't be until I know if he is receptive to such a thing or if it will send him screaming back to his ex-gay therapy. Anyways, back to last night.

He called a little before he was supposed to come over and told me that he couldn't make it because he was ill. It was also then that he told me what he had wanted of our meeting. The truth is, if he had come over, and presented the opportunity for sex to me, I cannot honestly say I would have turned him down. Really, it is not even the sex I wanted. What I was really wanting is someone to hold me tightly and let me know I am loved. Someone to tell me that even though everything looks like shit now, things will be okay and that they will be there for me no matter what. I wanted to fall asleep in someone's arms, someone I knew would protect me from my problems. Someone who would love me regardless of what happened. Someone that I could do the same to if their life ever took a turn for the worse. Yes, I get a hug from the lady at church who says she will pray for me. I get a pat on the back by someone at work who says they are sorry for what my mom is going through. I appreciate that, I really do. But having someone who knows you inside and out, all the good and bad, and is willing to show all that in themselves to you, and you still love each other more than anything, that is what I want. I want to know that there is a reason to resist temptation, and that he is waiting on me at home. (See, I told you I sometimes think too much about things.)

But, instead of being with somebody last night, I sat, by myself, watching Top Hat. Watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing together can bring a smile to my face even in the worst of times. And later, I went to bed, alone, trying not to think and just go to sleep, which I did eventually after too much thinking. But I awoke in the morning to the same crap I had when I went to sleep, with another day before me to face alone, hoping for the day when Bryan's face will be the last I see each night and the first I see each morning.

God, let Bryan and me be together some day, or let me be content without him. Either way, Thy will be done.

Fear not

Fear is a powerful motivator and can be used to mobilize people for great good or great evil. I was reminded of that recently when I bought the movie "V for Vendetta". I love this movie because I can identify with it on several levels. I see the fear portrayed in the movie and can see it in my own life. Afraid I might say the wrong thing to the wrong person or not act the right way and be called out as different. I have wondered sometimes when walking down the streets of Lexington, KY at night if I will hear the word faggot from behind before the baseball bat impacts my head. And if that did happen, would anyone care. Would the cops even try to find the culprit who did it, of just leave it to sit like they did with Timothy Blair in Louisville. Or will they catch someone, only to have them get off like in the Richie Phillips case. You may think that I am paranoid, and maybe I am, but when you read story after story about gay people being attacked and little happens to the perpetrator, one can't help wondering. And no, I don't sit cowering in the corner. But the thought of something like this happening isn't far off. You just learn to live with it and go on with life.

Another fear is if I would be fired if I was outed at work. Would people forget everything they know about me and just see me as "the gay guy". Or if I would be thrown out on the street by my landlord if he knew I had in my possession materials he deems wrong, such as newletters from Dignity USA . Either of these could happen, legally, and I know a couple of people who were actually driven out of their jobs by my current employer when they were outed. When you work with people who, not knowing your gay, say stuff like gays should be rounded up and locked up forever. Or that they are all child molestors. Some have even advocated rounding up gays and shooting them. Once again, maybe I am paranoid, but I remember the early days of the AIDS epidemic when, I think it was some California Republicans who put out bumper stickers that said something like, "AIDS, killing all the right kinds of people". Or a few years ago when the Rev. Bill Banuchi, executive director of the New York Christian Coalition said, while making the point about how many years homosexuals take off the average life span because of all their diseases, that we label cigarettes because they are dangerous to our health. Asking the question, without actually vocalizing it, as to why we don't label homosexuals. They did label homosexuals once. The Nazis made them wear pink triangles just like they made Jews wear yellow stars of David. Someone actually put together a comparison of Nazi comments about Jews and current conservative comments about homosexuals on a web page. Even though some of the quotes are by quacks, most are by "respected" people or groups. There is also a list of quotes from conservative groups regarding homosexuals on this site, some of which I remember hearing because I used to be a good conservative Christian who watched Pat Robertson's 700 Club. I would just try to ignore the parts where he condemed me and put who I really was down deeper into the closet.

So, yes, I am a contant companion to fear. Not as much as I used to be. And it is becoming less of an influence in my life as love grows within me. Love for those to whom society has rejected. Love for those whose life struggles never seem to end. Even love for those who seek my death, maming, firing, or any number of other things merely because of who I am. Jesus said to "fear not" numerous times, but I could never overcome that by myself. It was only through His grace that I was able to break the bounds of fear. And, even though I am still acting in some of the same CYA ways, I am trying to break out of those routines that I slip back into without thinking. I am trying to begin standing up and speaking out when it is called for without debating it in my head first.

May God continue to give me the strength to do as He wills, namely to love all: God, family, friends, neighbors, and enemies.