Abandoned Friendship

He used to talk about me that way.

I sat across the table listening to him tell others about how this other guy was right for the project we were doing. It was hard to hear the praises of someone else when we had formerly worked so well together. I was feeling replaced and for this past week, I've had to come to terms with some hard realities.

I think I was wrong about the substance of our friendship.

It was easier for me to always describe him as the straight friend who walked with me through my journey. As I shared my story, I would reference him as a friend I came out to and supported my process. He was someone I could bounce ideas off of - someone I could process my questions with. I wasn't alone on my journey because he was there.

But when I look back, that isn't what actually happened. We talked about the issue occasionally. He read my blog every once in a while. We saw each other every day because we worked together, albeit for God, and even talked passionately about vision and community and the things of God together. But when I reconciled my faith and my sexuality, he abandoned the friendship.

What happened to him walking with me? He was simply supervising my struggle . . . .

We've known each other for nine years. We shared hearts and passion and vision and paradigms. We had a synergy that I've not shared with anyone else. We both spoke the same language and God used our complementary strengths and weaknesses to serve His Kingdom. We were a pair. And when I came out to him, he supported my struggle.

I wanted to change. He wanted me to change. But he was patient with my process and he was willing to wait through my struggle. I participated in ex-gay programs for two years. He remained a supportive outside observer. He affirmed our friendship. I posed questions as I journeyed through the struggle. He loved the questions because it's refreshing to our faith. It led to interesting conversations, plus it was a good story for him to be able to say that he had a friend struggling with homosexuality with whom he was "walking with".

Then God began in me a process leading towards reconciling my faith and my sexuality. It started to complicate things. It started to challenge his own belief system about the issue. But he was still engaging the questions. How do we respond to the brothers and sisters within our Church who struggle with being gay? Celibacy seemed like the best compromise. I saw him journey from having a Side X view of believing heterosexual transformation was necessary to having a Side B view of believing that gay Christians ought to abstain from such activity. I saw it as growth in him.

Then I did reconcile my faith and my sexuality, claiming a Side A view that it's okay to be gay and Christian within the context of monogamy, commitment and faithfulness. I began to believe that there was no difference between homosexuals and heterosexuals and that we all are capable of unhealthy sexual sin but we are called to an authentic and genuine love - for God and for each other. I began to see through a new and fresher lens.

But he knew me. I didn't fit in his box of what those gay Christians were like. I walked with God and my faith as a lifestyle was real and sincere. I short-circuited his belief system because if it were okay by God for me to accept myself as gay (even though I had been gay this whole time), then that would require an adjustment to his beliefs - something that would apparently require too much humility.

I became Side A and since he couldn't follow me there, rather than remaining at Side B, he found it easier to return to his Side X beliefs. He had to. His belief system was in jeopardy and he could either walk onto unknown waters on faith based on what God had been showing him so far or he could return to familiar ground.

I remember the conversation. He needed time away from our friendship so that he could sort everything out. I had stepped away from our public ministry because my potentially controversial presence would have been a distraction from our vision and message of unity within the Church. Ironic. But he needed to figure out how to function within that public ministry without me - without his pair. And we both needed to grieve that loss.

Our ministry relationship had been divorced and so it was easier for him for us not to be around each other. It may have been convenient for him as he eventually replaced me with a ministry team of people with whom he could lean on. That was a blessing for him and the organization. But I was still alone, feeling like our friendship wasn't worth maintaining.

Today's blog post was triggered by a blog post that Peterson wrote last week for ex-gay survivors. He listed off many of the ways we've been harmed by ex-gay experiences. One of the things he described was harm to our relationships. He mentioned, "friends who rejected us because the conditional nature of the friendship. Once we no longer identified as ex-gay and a struggler, they ended the relationship..."

He asked for survivors to share how they've been harmed and this is an excerpt from my response comment (that eventually led to me writing today's blog post): " . . . . This still has hurt me tremendously. I thought I had a friend who was walking with me but that wasn't true. Rather than continuing to walk with me despite how it challenged his paradigm, he chose to distance himself to repair his original theology. Knowing me screwed him up. And it hurts accepting the fact that he really wasn't walking with me. His compassion for me was limited by his conditional acceptance."

He joined the ranks of those who ostracized me - those who ex-communicated me from their regular fellowship. The problem was that his actions weren't consistent with his stance of friendship when we were on the phone or in person. So I held to the illusion of a friend who walked with me because I didn't want to admit the fact that he abandoned the friendship long ago.

I'm realizing that at the core of our relationship, it was a ministry one. When we removed the shell of ministry, we had no other interaction. We shared no common interest outside of the call to community. Our ministry relationship was divorced and we continued forward living out the call separately. Now, God has brought us back together into a different context - both a part of a broader community collaborative, now representing separate organizations.

Honestly, it's hard for me to see him succeed because I feel like he chose that over our friendship. Could he have had both? Perhaps. Or maybe he needed to distance himself from me in order to remain in the good favor of the pastors he was networking with. And I think there's some bitterness in me there too. I'm glad to see the work of the public ministry succeed. But my heart is still there because it was an organization that God birthed out of the two of us.

I voluntarily stepped away from the organization so that it could succeed in its vision. But he should have fought for me. He should have defended me. And that admission is hurting me right now.

A Community Familiar With Rejection

Bea's last two posts over at Sh-out called "Pick ME! Pick ME!" and "Brutal Honesty" got me processing more about my parents. Last week, in "My Parents Before The Divorce", I was imagining what it must have been like for my parents during their marriage. My mom knew (or at least had her suspicions) about my dad being gay and so now that I know that he's gay it allows me the ability to empathize or sympathize with their experience so that I can sort out for myself how the divorce had affected me as I grew up.

Her post about wanting to be "picked" really resonated with me because it gave me insight into how my mom must have desperately wanted her husband to actually desire her. I can imagine that, as a woman, she wanted to feel sexy, appreciated, wanted - picked. As a man, that's what I want! But it helps me to understand more of the dynamic that was going on between them. Beneath the surface, under the arguing and fighting with each other that I hated seeing and under the bitterness that I felt against them, there was this frustration between us all because we were all feeling rejected by each other . . . .

Last night, I was with some friends and we were talking about why some gay men are afraid of being alone. I'm not necessarily "afraid" of being alone. It's just that I don't want to be alone because it's been such a lonely experience for me in the closet. For so many years, I intentionally denied myself the opportunity to be genuinely and authentically known and touched because I was afraid of being rejected if certain people knew. Going back further, it was a lonely experience for me after the divorce. Deep down, I felt rejected by my parents when they got divorced. I realize now that they both also felt rejected.

I can imagine the helpless feeling that my mom must have experienced during their marriage. My dad being gay was out of my mom's control. There was nothing she could do to change him. She must have felt so angry at my dad for not changing himself. What must have been going through my mom's mind for all those years? Why does he have to be gay? Why won't he just choose to be "normal"? Am I not a good enough woman for him to make him want to be straight? I wonder what kind of insecurities manifested out of the chaos that was going on in my mom's head. Honestly, I hate to admit this, but I used to look down on my mom everytime I saw her with a "guy friend". But how can I judge her when I know how desperate she must have been to want to be "picked"? My mom just wanted to be desired. Loved. How can I blame her for doing the best she could to maintain some kind of sanity, some kind of control - some kind of self-preservation? I love my mom and it breaks my heart to think that there were times that she wanted to be loved and didn't receive it.

I can imagine the confusion that my dad must have been experiencing during their marriage. He must have been so torn. I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he wanted to be a good husband, a good father - but didn't know how. Isn't loving your wife supposed to be just natural? I'm sure he loved her but he probably recognized that he didn't desire her. So how do you force yourself to desire someone that you don't? He loved her. He wanted to be able to desire her but he couldn't. He must have imagined what my mom was feeling and hated himself for not being able to please her. If I were with a woman, I wouldn't know how to fully please her either. So what was he supposed to do? It's not like he could just choose not to be gay. It's not like he could just choose to desire her. My dad must have felt so out-of-control too. He probably knew that my mom knew that he was gay and felt that she rejected him for not being a "real" man. He probably rejected himself for not being a "real" man. I personally understand the tension of being in the closet. I love my dad and it breaks my heart knowing what he was going through in a marriage with a woman he cared for and four children that he loved. And so he must have felt rejected by me when I chose not to live with him after the divorce.

It was traumatic for me. I remember the day I found out. It was morning and my dad was driving me to elementary school in our family van. I was in 6th grade. He said, "Son, you mama and I are getting a divorce." I knew. We all knew that it was coming. My brother and sisters and I all knew that it was going to happen sooner or later. The truth is that I was actually relieved. I was glad to hear it. I hated seeing them argue. I hated it when they took it out on us.

I remember sitting in the front seat of the van looking out of the window watching the houses and trees whiz by while I listened to my father speak. He continued, "She's going to move to Long Beach with your aunt. I'm going to stay here in Hawaii. Who do you want to go with?" It was a no-brainer. I already knew that I would much rather live with my mom than with him. He was rigid and distant. I hated doing yard work, which is something he had my brother and I do all the time, and so I saw this as an opportunity for a prison break. I don't remember the actual words that I used. I chose my mom. I don't even remember if he said anything back to me. But I do remember how I felt. I didn't feel guilty for choosing to leave. But I felt like he was giving me a guilt trip for not choosing him. And so I guess I felt like I "should" be feeling guilty but as I grew up I ended up hating him for making me feel guilty. (Does that make sense?) So I was bitter with him for pretty much all my teenage and young adult years because I felt like he shouldn't have made me feel that way. I was 10 or 11 years old, I shouldn't have to choose between my parents - much less feel guilty for the choice that I ended up making. I felt rejected by him - which is weird because he was most likely feeling rejected by me.

This kind of craziness shaped my teenage years. I was confused after the divorce because I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Am I supposed to feel guilty for choosing my mom? Does choosing my mom automatically mean that I was rejecting my dad? Is it okay that I wanted them to get a divorce? Should I feel guilty about that? I just wanted peace for a change. And by the way, on top of all this madness, why the hell was I gay?

No wonder I was all screwed up and tried to kill myself.

Rejection sucks. My mom felt it. My dad felt. I felt. We were all screwed up because we didn't know what to do with rejection and the feelings that come with it. But in hindsight, I suppose I can understand the person that I am now by the way the divorce - and even the closet experience - shaped me as I grew up.

In my last post about this theme, I had a minor side note (soapbox) about the whole gay marriage thing and I'm feeling another one coming now: I think the opponents of gay marriage don't realize why many people in "my" community" feel so outraged by their opposition. Aside from the justice issue or even the God issue, I think that every time that we hear people oppose gay marriage in conversation or in debate or in public speech or even in a wedding ceremony where someone talks about the "threatened institution", it's yet another example of how we experience society rejecting us. We are a community familiar with rejection and when people say that we shouldn't have the right to marry because it would threaten the "institution of marriage", it becomes not only insulting but personal. The debate will not die, for this reason.

Anyway, where was I?

I love my parents. I can understand their experience when they were married and it helps me to move on. It helps me to understand what I don't want in a marriage. It helps me to understand how important it is for us to want to be "picked". I am a gay man. It wouldn't be fair to anyone for me to marry someone I didn't completely desire. One day, I will marry a person that I love, appreciate and even desire. And it will be mutual. He will know that I pick him and I will know that he picks me.

My Parents Before The Divorce

Some of the most moving scenes for me in Brokeback Mountain were the parts of Ennis and his wife Alma. As I watched them, it took me to a place I had never considered before. What must it have been like for my father and mother when they were still married?

If you’d asked me to recall a memory from my childhood, a vivid one that always comes to mind is when I was standing next to my dad near the stairs as he yelled out profanities towards my mom across the house in the kitchen. I was ten years old.

I held a lot of bitterness in my heart towards my dad after the divorce. It was tough. But once I found out that my dad is gay, things started to make sense . . . .

I used to think back to those times in Hawaii and wonder what the real reason was why they got divorced. Was it really my fault? After all, I was gay and they had to know, right? They argued because of me, they were disappointed in me, right? Or was it really my dad’s fault? He just was never happy with anything, right? He constantly found fault with everything my mom did, right? Or was it really my mom’s fault? She just wasn’t good enough, right? She wasn’t pleasing to my dad, right?

It’s crazy to think back on the kinds of things that go through a child’s mind. I know it wasn’t my fault that my parents got divorced. I know it wasn’t my dad’s fault. I know it wasn’t my mom’s fault. I figured out that it was my brother’s fault – the jerk! *smirk* (LOL, I’m absolutely kidding, really, I love my brother! Hehe).

I’ve spoken to both my parents separately and they would both accuse the other of infidelity. Hmm. Alright, who’s telling the truth? Perhaps both of them were. I don’t know. But I’ve now got a glimpse of how complicated their marriage must have been. Now that I know that my dad is gay, in the closet, and at the time was in the U.S. Air Force, I can somewhat understand the dynamic that must have been going on between my mom and dad romantically and sexually. I know what it’s like to be in the closet. It’s frustrating and lonely. How much more must it have been that way for my dad in a marriage?

If (and I emphasize the “IF”) it’s true that my mom was unfaithful, I don’t exactly blame my mom for it. And I can also imagine that along with the anger that my dad must have been feeling, whether he knew for sure that she was doing that or even if he only suspected it, my dad must have felt jealous – envious even – because he wanted to be with a man and couldn’t (or at least, he made the choice to deny himself). I used to have those same feelings when my female friends got boyfriends. I was so jealous because I wanted to be with her boyfriend instead of her.

If (and I emphasize the “IF”) it’s true that my dad was unfaithful, I don’t exactly blame him either because I understand what it’s like to burn with passion for another guy. The frustration of never being socially allowed to embrace a man in such a way is absolutely overwhelming. I can imagine the mix of anger, confusion, and sorrow that my mom must have been feeling knowing that my dad was (or may be) with another man. She must have felt betrayed and used. (My mom implied to me once that she felt like my dad used her just to make kids – I’ve got three other siblings, I’m the youngest.) She must have felt so inadequate sexually as a woman thinking that she wasn’t good enough and so he had to go to a man to be pleased. She must have felt so lonely because she couldn’t tell anyone and she must have been too ashamed to let anyone know. I used to have those same feelings when a male friend of whom I was crushing on got a girlfriend. I’d feel so inadequate because he didn’t desire me the way I desired him. Of course, he was straight, but still. I envied the girl because I wanted to be with my friend instead of her.

Whether or not infidelity is right or wrong is not the issue. I’m not implying that it’s acceptable. But what I am saying is that understanding the context of their marriage helps me to be more compassionate towards them for making the decision to get divorced. I can understand why they argued so much. I can understand why they never seemed happy. I can understand how they might have taken their frustrations out on us kids, at times.

Of anything it makes me value marriage all the more. It makes me grateful that I am out of the closet. I no longer have to put on the charade of looking straight – entertaining the idea of marrying a woman just so that people wouldn’t suspect that I am gay. I no longer have to worry about having a marriage that could potentially end in divorce – like my mom and dad’s or even like Ennis and Alma’s. I no longer have to worry about putting my wife through the hell of lying to her, not telling her why I’m not completely satisfied, and making her feel guilty or unattractive.

Instead, I can engage in relationships honestly. And in the context of a serious romantic relationship, I can entertain the idea of marriage knowing that I actually do love him and that we’ll enjoy each other’s company for the rest of our lives.

Here’s a side note (more like a soapbox) but it’s something that’s been on my mind for a while now: what is it exactly that opponents of gay marriage would have me do? Marry a woman while sacrificing both of our happiness and ultimately ending up divorcing each other anyway. Yeah, that’ll preserve the institution of marriage. I think it’s just easier for them to close their eyes, wave their finger in the air back and forth, and yell out “no, no, no” while denying me the same legal right that my other fellow American citizens have. They refuse to see that two men happy together for the rest of their lives who KEEP their marriage vows is better than a man and a woman unhappy together who ultimately BREAK their marriage vows. Yeah, I know, they would rather insist that I not marry at all! Who are THEY to insist that upon me? (I’ll stop there because I can already tell I’m starting to get worked up about it).

Anyway, where was I?

I love my parents. I don’t blame them anymore. They both did the best they could at the time. Regardless of what happened in the past, today things are better. My family knows that I’m gay and they do not reject me for it. They know that some day I’ll have a boyfriend and ultimately a husband – yes, husband. (Although, I think my mom is still holding out for me to marry a nice Filipino girl.) Both my parents now live in Southern California and for the second holiday family gathering in a row, the entire family has been present – both parents, all my siblings and all the kids. It’s great! Sure my parents have residual issues but at least they can be (somewhat) civil with each other in the same room. I’m thankful for the way God has redeemed the relationships in my family because there were some pretty tough times.

Today, I discovered two blogs that I thought were interesting. The first is Accidental Christian – a blog by Eddy, a gay man in the closet who is a pastor and has come out to his wife. The other is Sh-out – a blog by Bea, Eddy’s wife, who was dragged into the closet that Eddy has been in. I read both of their blogs at the same time from the beginning – switching back and forth as the days chronologically progressed – and it was interesting to read about similar events from each of their perspectives, baggage, and pain. They both definitely talk about colliding worlds and so I decided to add a new section at the bottom of the left column of this blog. It’s called “Well, My Spouse Is Gay. Where Does That Leave Me?” Be sure to check them all out!

Update: See follow up post here - "A Community Familiar With Rejection"

Children of Divorce

I never really talked much specifically about my parents divorce. I sort of mentioned it in an early post back in July called "Thinking About My Dad". I've probably referenced here or there in other posts about my attempted suicide which I've intended on posting more details about but never got around to it. (I will though, it's an interesting God-event in my life.) My parents divorced when I was about 11 years old and it was a huge contributor to my state of mind when I tried to kill myself a few years later.

Anyway, the reason I mention it is because I saw an interview on The Today Show yesterday with Matt Lauer (he's crazy cute, me thinks - sorry, i didn't mean to gross you out) speaking with Elizabeth Marquardt, author of "Between Two Worlds: The Inner Lives of Children of Divorce." Thanks to my trusty TiVo Series 2, I was able to rewind the interview and jot down a few notes that I found interesting:

**For those interviewed in the nationwide study answering the question, "I felt like a different person with each of my parents," 43% were from divorced families; 21% were from intact families.

**Matt Lauer said in response to that statistic, "These children were forced to take on two different personalities almost to fit in to each household that they had to go to..."

**Elizabeth Marquardt responded, "Right, and when they grow up it really becomes difficult for them to know how to be their whole true self with another person."

I found this interesting because I can affirm this in my experience. I chose to move from Hawaii away from my dad to live with my mom here in Southern California. It was difficult relating with my dad after that and it really was like I was a different person when on the phone with him. Granted, much of that had to do with me trying to cope with the divorce itself, but in terms of my personality I was definitely different. How much of this did I carry with me into adulthood? (Her book actually infers that children of divorced parents take alot into adulthood.) This is the first time that I've heard the suggestion that I learned to adopt a dual-personality at that young of an age - when they got divorced. I easily applied this to my secret sexuality as well. In both contexts, both the divorce and me being gay, I can see how they were both coping mechanisms for me and at the same time contributed to me being confused about my identity.

Another interesting quote from the interview was:

**Matt asked her about what other people say that, "Children are resilient. They will bounce back from a divorce. The effect perhaps is short term but not long term."

**Elizabeth responded with, "Simply not true. Divorce shapes children in their inner lives in lasting ways that turn up in young adulthood."

I can affirm this as well in my life. After I tried to commit suicide and survived during my freshman year in high school, I kind of blocked out the whole divorce thing until late senior year. After that, I thought about it alot. Even through my early college years, I found myself bitter with both my parents. These feelings, combined with my same sex attractions and also my developing faith life, had me feeling pretty torn - between three worlds even.

I'm sure there are some out there that would presuppose my same sex attractions are connected to the way I was raised and my parents' divorce.