Wednesday, August 17, 2005
You Okay, Honey?
For the last month or so, I’ve been dealing with a very heavy issue in therapy. While I didn’t think I had a problem with my sexuality, it turns out that I’m almost drowning in it. It all started with a simple question asked by my therapist, Sophie. “Why do you think that you’re still a virgin at 28 years old?” I had a million reasons, most of them standard lines that I give to anyone who asks me that question. Once all of my reasons were exhausted, Sophie dove a little deeper and started asking very personal questions that immediately left me feeling vulnerable and more honest than I’ve ever been in my life.
The truth of the matter is that I’m not proud of who I am at all. Sure, I believe that I have talents and a personality and decent looks, but when it comes down to the heart of the matter, I’ve always felt as though my homosexuality was something that I should be embarrassed of; something I should hide or pretend I’m secure in just to get people off my back. I’m usually pretty good at making people believe that I’m a comfortable and happy gay man, but I always walk away from conversations like this discouraged and feeling as though I’m a liar. To me, being gay is like a rain cloud over my head that just won’t go away.
Today’s therapy session was the hardest to get through yet. At one point, Sophie actually offered to move off the topic and on to something else. Through my choked sobs, I told her that we could continue. She handed me a box of tissues and I did my best to explain how my past has led me to this point. Truthfully, I had an extremely hard childhood (who hasn’t?). Every single day I was called a “Faggot”, “fairy”, “Fruit”, “Pat, the androgynous He/She”; pretty much any derogatory slur that my high school peers could think of. It was gut wrenching and awful and I used to wish that I was dead almost every day of my life.
As I’ve gotten older, my vulnerability turned into anger and now not only do I have a hard time trusting other people, I have a hard time believing in myself. If someone hurts my feelings, I immediately go on the defensive, hoping that they will back off and go away. This reaction has done nothing, but leave me feeling alone and scared to have friends or lovers. The reason why I’m a still a 28 year old virgin? Because somewhere along the line, I started to believe in what other people were telling me. “Gay is disgusting.” “Homosexuality is a condemnable sin”. “Homosexuality is a disorder that needs to be cured”.
Of course logically I know that this is all a bunch of horse shit. But in my core, I still have a hard time kissing another guy without feeling as though it’s unnatural and gross. I’ve never really admitted that to anyone before and when the words came out of my mouth with Sophie today, we both looked at each other as though we had discovered the root of the problem.
I want to learn how to love myself. I want to learn how to accept myself for who I am and even more importantly, what I am. As the tears streamed down my face today, I realized for the first time how far off the mark I’ve been with this whole thing. I don’t have many, if any, positive gay role models. The friends I’ve surrounded myself with are all wonderful people, but the pressure I feel from them to be perfect crushes me internally and makes me feel as though I can never do anything right. When you combine all of these things together, you have one scared and unhappy guy. Essentially, I always feel alone.
As our session came to a close, Sophie grabbed my hand until I was able to stop the tears from coming out of my eyes. She encouraged me to take a few deep breaths and once again told me how “proud” she is that I’ve “come this far” with our treatment. I thanked her for providing me with the only “safe place” I have in NYC and I walked out of her office, choking back the sobs.
I stood at the elevator and no matter what I did, the tears still filled my eyes. When the elevator door opened, I could see in my peripheral vision that there were two black women standing inside. I walked in and kept my head down. As I rode to the first floor of the building, the woman next to me says “You okay, honey?” A tear rolled down my face as I lifted my head and looked at her. “I’ll be okay”. Shockingly enough, the person who said “You okay, honey” was Phylicia Rashad, of the Cosby Show fame. She smiled at me, I smiled at her and the elevator doors opened.
I walked out of the building feeling cared about. Not only from my wonderful therapist, but from a famous actress. It was a very surreal feeling, but it was a feeling I want so desperately to hold on to.
For the last month or so, I’ve been dealing with a very heavy issue in therapy. While I didn’t think I had a problem with my sexuality, it turns out that I’m almost drowning in it. It all started with a simple question asked by my therapist, Sophie. “Why do you think that you’re still a virgin at 28 years old?” I had a million reasons, most of them standard lines that I give to anyone who asks me that question. Once all of my reasons were exhausted, Sophie dove a little deeper and started asking very personal questions that immediately left me feeling vulnerable and more honest than I’ve ever been in my life.
The truth of the matter is that I’m not proud of who I am at all. Sure, I believe that I have talents and a personality and decent looks, but when it comes down to the heart of the matter, I’ve always felt as though my homosexuality was something that I should be embarrassed of; something I should hide or pretend I’m secure in just to get people off my back. I’m usually pretty good at making people believe that I’m a comfortable and happy gay man, but I always walk away from conversations like this discouraged and feeling as though I’m a liar. To me, being gay is like a rain cloud over my head that just won’t go away.
Today’s therapy session was the hardest to get through yet. At one point, Sophie actually offered to move off the topic and on to something else. Through my choked sobs, I told her that we could continue. She handed me a box of tissues and I did my best to explain how my past has led me to this point. Truthfully, I had an extremely hard childhood (who hasn’t?). Every single day I was called a “Faggot”, “fairy”, “Fruit”, “Pat, the androgynous He/She”; pretty much any derogatory slur that my high school peers could think of. It was gut wrenching and awful and I used to wish that I was dead almost every day of my life.
As I’ve gotten older, my vulnerability turned into anger and now not only do I have a hard time trusting other people, I have a hard time believing in myself. If someone hurts my feelings, I immediately go on the defensive, hoping that they will back off and go away. This reaction has done nothing, but leave me feeling alone and scared to have friends or lovers. The reason why I’m a still a 28 year old virgin? Because somewhere along the line, I started to believe in what other people were telling me. “Gay is disgusting.” “Homosexuality is a condemnable sin”. “Homosexuality is a disorder that needs to be cured”.
Of course logically I know that this is all a bunch of horse shit. But in my core, I still have a hard time kissing another guy without feeling as though it’s unnatural and gross. I’ve never really admitted that to anyone before and when the words came out of my mouth with Sophie today, we both looked at each other as though we had discovered the root of the problem.
I want to learn how to love myself. I want to learn how to accept myself for who I am and even more importantly, what I am. As the tears streamed down my face today, I realized for the first time how far off the mark I’ve been with this whole thing. I don’t have many, if any, positive gay role models. The friends I’ve surrounded myself with are all wonderful people, but the pressure I feel from them to be perfect crushes me internally and makes me feel as though I can never do anything right. When you combine all of these things together, you have one scared and unhappy guy. Essentially, I always feel alone.
As our session came to a close, Sophie grabbed my hand until I was able to stop the tears from coming out of my eyes. She encouraged me to take a few deep breaths and once again told me how “proud” she is that I’ve “come this far” with our treatment. I thanked her for providing me with the only “safe place” I have in NYC and I walked out of her office, choking back the sobs.
I stood at the elevator and no matter what I did, the tears still filled my eyes. When the elevator door opened, I could see in my peripheral vision that there were two black women standing inside. I walked in and kept my head down. As I rode to the first floor of the building, the woman next to me says “You okay, honey?” A tear rolled down my face as I lifted my head and looked at her. “I’ll be okay”. Shockingly enough, the person who said “You okay, honey” was Phylicia Rashad, of the Cosby Show fame. She smiled at me, I smiled at her and the elevator doors opened.
I walked out of the building feeling cared about. Not only from my wonderful therapist, but from a famous actress. It was a very surreal feeling, but it was a feeling I want so desperately to hold on to.
