Being Different – 2

Yesterday’s blog was about being different in the context of mid teen youth enrolled in a rehab program for underage use of alcohol and drugs. Actually, the kids are addicts. They we remanded to the program by parents or court order.

When I began writing the post I intended on focusing on the differentness the kids told us they felt. I shared my sense of feeling different too. In fact I went on to share the core of my differentness: I’m gay. For some reason I failed to mention this in yesterday’s post. It is important to rectify that today.

Growing up I knew I was different. Throughout the early phases of development I didn’t have the tools or language to explain myself. Think about it; at 6 years of age, what does the word ‘sex’ mean? Not much. It simply is not in the mind’s vocabulary or experience.

But sexual awakening is a slow process that makes appearances in flashes of time. Later, the flashes became more frequent and patterns began taking shape. Along the way kids my age were whispering and giggling about things they heard about or caught sight of in a newspaper, magazine, or a men’s photo mag of an older boy in the neighborhood.

Soon the word ‘sex’ took on a meaning. Certainly it was a no-no, a taboo subject for someone so young, but curiosity soon began filling in the gaps. Somewhere around 11 or 12 internal urgings and sensations made themselves known to me. I still didn’t understand them but I did realize my fascination with male bodies was not a passing fad.

Because sex was a taboo, I did not know who to turn to for information. Soon classmates who shared my Sunday school experience as well, talked a little more seriously about the subject. By 13 books were offered to us to read; these were handled through the Boy Scouts and Boy’s Life magazine. Neighbor kids shared the material with me.

Finally sex was better understood as a bodily function and purpose. The mechanics were still weird to me! And nowhere was the boy to boy physical attraction mentioned. Boy-Girl attraction, yes; but that didn’t interest me.

I realized then (13 and 14) that I needed to learn boy-girl attraction. I had plenty of female friends both in school and in church programs. There were some girls in the neighborhood that also played an important role in my social life. But at no time was I physically attracted to them. The chemistry simply was not there.

Boys on the other hand were a totally different thing! I did feel an attraction to them; not all, of course, but some I really wanted to spend time with, get to know better, and explore inner feelings.

By high school, gym class and the close quarters of jammed hallways during class changes, I was confronted with the male body in forms which became enticing. None of my friends spoke of this. So I kept it quiet. Later this grew to be a deep dark secret. The power of the taboo was strong. I still had no one to talk to about this.

I went through all of puberty in this manner. I entered college a virgin and totally confused. In those days looking up the word ‘homosexual’ in the dictionary, was cause for trepidation. A quick paging to the right spot, find the word, quickly read the definition, swiftly change pages to another section, feign looking up another word, and then leave the dictionary turned to an anonymous page.

How many gay guys did this? The more I read the more I realize I was not alone in this search for meaning and relevance to my life. But I still didn’t understand what was happening. Finally, in college, I spoke to a counselor friend connected through the local church. We both sang in the choir. We talked deeply and long. I became aware of what was going on in my life. Still tentative. Still misunderstood. But eventually the gaps were filled in. I shared by situation with my roommate and best friend. He offered support and life long friendship.

I exited high school a virgin. College, too. I had relationships with women, even became engaged but later abandoned that relationship. Those were the days when people like me did not engage in sex before marriage. A dated concept today, but not back then. Lots of cheating of course, but not me! Besides, I simply didn’t know what to do.

This was my differentness then, and still today.  In a straight world back then one kept his gay secret buried deep. What one wanted was a family, a house, kids, a good career, and the rest of the American Dream. I did. I still do.

I buried my gayness, fell in love with a wonderful woman, married her, had two fabulous kids, built a solid career of purpose and inner reward, and kept this up for 26 years. The kids were in college and the empty nest syndrome approached. Deep upset-ness loomed and bloomed. Experimentation had begun a few years earlier. A gay bar, a bay bath, anonymous sexual encounters.

It became clear that who I was did not have full expression. I was missing something profound.

Physical relations with another human being where the mechanics of desire are present was a discovery that shook my world. Exploring that bit by bit informed me that I should not be in a heterosexual marriage at all. It was not fair to my wife or me.

Thus the painful decision to divorce and rebuild both of our lives. It was the right thing to do and had a compelling nature to it. In time I came to understand it. But in those early days of change I merely followed one foot step after another. Carefully at first. With some abandon later. Finally I was in full exploratory mode.

I shared this being different with the kids in the rehab program. Whether they understand at this point is moot. But what I think they do understand is that my being different is similar to how they have experienced being different while growing up. They have had huge doubts and questions left unanswered. They have filled in their own gaps. And drugs and alcohol and cigarettes were the tools used at the time. They were seeking fulfillment, peace, togetherness and ‘fit’. Not all experimentation worked out well for them. But learn they did; some good things and some bad.

Their story is a personal one of managing expectations and being different from others. The discomfort of the journey is painful. Comfort for them came in the form of drugs and alcohol.

My comfort came in purpose, career, accomplishments and family. Later, after the divorce, sexual satisfaction, career and accomplishments became ever more important. Gaps existed. Doubts grew. So did the use of alcohol.

If I understand this process for myself, then the kids in the program should be helped to understand it as well. Perhaps managing their differentness will lead them to a better place than where they find themselves today.

I am different for a lot of reasons. Sexual identity is a major one for me. Probably not for them. There are many facets of life that make us feel different from others. The dynamics produced by such awareness produces the need to belong. Sometimes high intelligence is a burden of being different. It brings its own pain and isolation.

I wonder how many people in rehab over the many years were simply managing being different? And badly?

Perhaps we can turn the corner?

June 27, 2014