WHO HURTS WORSE? Two perspectives of 'Hell'

Part I -  His Story......

Well, maybe the use of the word "Hell" is sort of exaggerating, because there was no fire & brimstone, and we did still have alot of  GREAT TIMES, and enjoyed many, many BLESSINGS,... but we can't think of any better word to describe the dysfunction that seemed to almost consume several years of our marriage, and, one thing we both know for sure...  it seemed that often, SATAN WAS THERE.

(Mr. I Define Me here - MY thoughts as told to my wife, the typist)

From the time I discovered that I was "different" (homosexual - but I didn't even know the word back then), I felt completely alone.   I can't even begin to explain what my life was like as a young boy in a small farming town.  At around 10 years of age my wonderful carefree life and innocence was shattered, and gone forevermore, as I was introduced to pornography, and discovered that unlike all the other guys, who were clearly looking at the girls in the pictures, I was looking at the guys.  I didn't know anything about homosexuality (or heterosexuality), I just knew that I was different, I didn't understand why, and I felt worried and alone.   I don't know which was worse, the confusion, the guilt,  or the fears that I lived with in my soul, with no one talk to, and no knowledge of anyone anywhere "like me".  I felt like a "freak" and I was terrified that someone might discover the horrible truth about me. 

In my earlier childhood years, my sexual orientation was  usually just a "minor" peculiar part of me, but as time went on, it became almost all consuming.  If I wasn't acting on my sexual desires, I was thinking about them, and if I was not acting on or thinking about "sex", I was worrying about people finding out I was "a freak".  Or, I was wondering why I was different from all my friends, or hoping and praying that I would somehow be "fixed" and that this devastating "phase" of my life would eventually pass, and hopefully SOON.

I remember a time when I was a young boy, some big boys showed me two different "dirty" magazines, one with pictures of women, and the other with pictures of men.  They placed both in front of me and asked me which book I wanted to look at.  Well, even at that early age, not knowing anything whatsoever about homosexuality (or heterosexuality, for that matter), I still could smell a rat....and I instinctively knew that, although I really wanted to look at the magazine with the naked men, I should definitely pick the magazine with the naked women.  It just seemed like the "proper" thing to do, -  I just knew I should hide my sexual inclinations.

Throughout my adolescent years, I remember so much shame, confusion, and conflict raging inside me, while, at the same time, I was actually a peaceful, sensitive, and caring kid.

As I look back now, I can see clearly that I was a very sensitive child, very much different than my brothers.  My brothers seemed to be able to roll with the punches and 'cowboy up', while I was less tough, less athletic, less adventurous, and more fearful and guarded.

I remember one early morning out in the field, we were sleeping in sleeping bags in the back of the truck, and at the crack of dawn our dad, who was bailing hay in the field, called to us to "GET UP AND ROLL THESE BAILS!,  we all continued to sleep until we heard the tractor engine slow to an idle, and I raised up to discover our dad running towards us and yelling (we were in trouble!), my brothers jumped up and scattered, and successfully managed to 'get out of his reach' to avoid gettin a lickin, but I was frozen to that spot, and wet my pants from the fear.  Although I knew my Dad loved me, I must confess that I was afraid of him, and it seemed to be worse for me than for my brothers.  Bonding with my Dad was difficult, I'm not sure that I ever did - although I have gone to great lengths to build a really good relationship with him through the years, and I love spending time with him whenever I can.

I don't think I ever really bonded with my only living grandfather.  I do remember that, one day when he took us all to buy cowboy hats, he allowed me to get the hat I really wanted, which was actually what my brothers called, 'a sissy hat', because it was kindof a Roy Rogers hat, painted blue with pictures of cowboys and indians on it.  My brothers choose the 'real' cowboy hats, and although I was not the youngest, I was more attracted to the fancy 'toy' hat than the real hats.  And, although I really liked that hat, I quit wearing it because I would get mercilessly teased by my brothers.   I could tell countless stories similar to this from my uneasy, uncomfortable childhood.

I remember when all the kids would gather in the yard for a game of tackle football, I hated it.  I was alot smaller than most boys my age, as a matter of fact, I didn't reach puberty until I was at least 16.  I was afraid of getting tackled, and I didn't seem to have that competitive spirit that most the boys had.  By the time I was in high school I somehow managed to get on the football team, although I didn't like it, and just did it because all my brothers were football stars.  I especially hated the 'shower room' situation as we had one big open area with lots of shower heads and there was no place to hide the fact that I had not reached puberty.  Even one of my younger brothers reached puberty years before me - it was extremely humiliating.
And, as if that wasn't enough, the older guys always teased me, and even some of the teachers made insulting comments about my lack of maturity and my small stature.  These developmental issues caused me great anguish and added to my low self esteem and self hatred.  And, although, at times I reached out to God for help through prayer, it seemed that my prayers went unanswered as I waited and waited for results and for rescue.  (IMPORTANT NOTICE - somewhere along the way, during my mission, and also in my early years of marriage - I GREW UP.... now, I am bigger than all my brothers, and am usually unrecognizable at my class reunions. - whew~~~)

I was a spiritual kid right from the start, with a firm belief in God and a knowledge that God was good, that he loved me, and that He had the power to help and comfort me in times of need.  (I personally believe that I was born with "the Light of Christ" and I firmly believe that everyone is.)  I also instinctively knew that my thoughts and actions were not pleasing to God, I felt guilt from viewing naked pictures, guilt from masturbation, and shame because of my same sex attraction.  At the same time, I felt determined to please God, and to please my Dad, and I wanted nothing more than to be "normal".   It was a very confusing and lonely existence. 

One day, when I was a teenager, the pain, frustration, and heartache had built up to a boiling point within me, I had had a terrible day, my burdens seemed to be way more than I could bare, and as I walked into our home, my parents were sitting there watching tv.   As I sat down in the chair, almost without warning, I broke down and began to cry.  My parents asked me, "what is wrong?" and I was overcome with emotion, I couldn't say a word, I just shrugged my shoulders and went to my room.  I desperately  needed someone, someone to talk to, someone to help me understand, someone to listen. I knew my parents loved me, but I just couldn't even consider telling them the truth.  It seemed like an impossible thing for them to comprehend.
So,  my mother came to my room and sat on my bed where I was crying like a baby.  She gently and nervously asked me the question, "son, have you got some girl pregnant"?   I practically laughed inside as I secretly thought, "oh how I wished that were true".  If only that was the reason for my anguish and tears, and  I wished that that was ALL that was 'wrong' with me.   I quietly told my mother "no", but couldn't answer her questions as she pressed me to confide in her, because I just couldn't do it, I couldn't tell her the truth, I believed it would break her heart.
After high school I joined the military.  Joining the military was a pretty crazy thing for a "gay guy" to do, I know.  Truthfully, I don't really know why I did it or what I was thinking.  I mainly joined because alot of my friends were joining, and because I did think it would be a great adventure (which is weird because I was not really the adventurous type).  I definitely had a sense of patriotism, and although in the beginning I wondered "what have I done?", and felt I had made a terrible mistake,  ultimately I did feel a sense of pride and accomplishment in serving my country, which I love.  I always believed that my military service was a form of serving God.

My mission was hard.  Although I had never acted on my SSA with another person,  and I constantly worked hard at remaining worthy to serve in the mission field, I was always on high alert, keeping my thoughts and actions in check, and struggling to stay focused on the work I was there to do.  I'm sure all missionaries have struggles and most missions, although they truly ARE "the best two years of your life", are difficult for each and every individual.  I, however, thought that everything in MY life, and everything about me was WORSE than anybody else.  By the time I was  in my early 20's, I often felt that my hardships, trials, and anguish were some sort of  punishment from God for my years of masturbation in my youth, and even for my obsessive homosexual thoughts.  Still, I only desired to please God, to serve Him, and I believed  He alone had the power to rescue me from my hell.

When I married my wife, within just a few months from returning from my mission, it became quite clear to me that I was wrong in thinking/hoping that I could 'marry the gay away'.  Although I truly did enjoy sex with my wife, and, as a matter of fact, it was actually a very great and wonderful thing, the attractions to men were not minimized, and I continued to be compelled to masturbation to homosexual fantasies.  I truly loved my wife, and I hated to hurt her, and so I tried constantly, with all my might, to control my sexual attractions and sex drive involving fantasies of men.  Even though she did not know about my secret, I knew that she was ultimately adversely affected by my choices, actions, thoughts, and lack of attention to her.    I almost always felt 'out of control' and on the edge of some impending doom.  And, I knew that if/when my world fell apart, it would absolutely be 'all my fault'. 

Because of my conflict within, and my 'secret', I lived with depression constantly.  I sorta believed that my whole life was cursed, that everything I did was bad, and I was basically unable to see and accept all the many blessings in my life.  I truly knew I was blessed, and I always acknowledged God for His hand in my life and the blessings of my life, (WHEN I had a moment of humble reflection), but, I usually had a dark fog separating my heart and soul from really feeling the blessings that my mind intellectually knew were real.  Back then, I would discount everything 'good' and become consumed with everything 'bad'.  It was like I had the opposite of 'the Midas touch', it seemed that everything I touched turned to 'crap' (instead of Gold).

During the years after telling my wife the truth about my sexual attraction to men, and the whole truth about the secret life and lies I had been living, we had about a year of learning, understanding, growing, and much love.  It was a year of great relief, discovery, counseling, healing and empowerment for me.  I was actively working on my issues, my marriage, and my relationship with God.  I had great hope....... but somehow, and for some reasons that I really can't even explain, that hope faded.  I became even more discouraged than ever before.  I just couldn't see how I could ever take control of my life.  I was overwhelmed.  I felt desperate as the 'help' that I had put all my faith in, was just not working, and I was even unable to find that faith in God (within myself) that I had somehow miraculously carried with me throughout my life (in spite of it all).  I had instincts that I should 'repent', but I couldn't separate the actions from the attractions, so I believed that there was no way I could repent from something I could not control, and it seemed to be a waste of time.  I started to believe that God had given up on me, and so I gave up on me too.

During the approximately 13 years that I continued on a roller coaster from hell, I experienced desperate and damning lows, then, I was somehow always carried away from sure destruction and 'up', up to renewed hope, once again, and through much determination to find rescue and peace, only to find myself once more consumed by my addictive attractions and selfish behaviors - so off to the "down-low" I'd go.

I have to be honest here, since this is the post about all the 'bad'.  I confess that I screamed and yelled at times.  I know that I was often irritable and would fly off the handle over stupid little things.  I sincerely regret that I called my wife names and swore at her, using words that certainly cut her to her core and damaged her heart and her soul.   I make no excuses for all my bad behavior, back then, it was sometimes easier to do things to push her away, than to face the reality of the pain she was in, (that I knew I caused), or to attempt to communicate, understand, or care.   At times it was all I could do to make it to work and then home, and, I often delayed coming home.    The family I so desperately wanted and had dreamed of was becoming a added burden to my out of control life, and I found myself  avoiding those relationships that I cherished the most.  It just doesn't compute, I know, and I can never get those years back.

The most devastating reality of my life's choices, is how it surely has affected my children.  Although, at the time, I was fooling myself into thinking that I was only hurting myself (and my wife), I somehow believed that the kids were not adversely affected.  I went to such great effort to be sure that my children were well provided for, and I tried extremely hard to be a 'good Dad'.  I loved (and still love) my children more than words can say.  Ironic those very children that I wanted so desperately to have and raise and love, who I would absolutely 'die' for, ...I was not able to 'live' for.  But back then, I didn't see it that way.  I was selfish, and my thoughts were twisted.  I thought that, at least, I was doing good because I was somehow keeping the family together, and avoiding the devastation of divorce. 

I was always attempting to teach my children the gospel and attending church meetings to be an example to my kids.  I often felt so uncomfortable in church, and, although it was torture, at times, because of my guilt, I still endured and hoped that my children would see me as a good man and know of my belief in the gospel and my love for the Lord, Jesus Christ.  I knew that my wife was an example for good in their lives, and since we were somehow, seemingly managing (on the surface) quite well, I was grateful for this part of our life everyday.  And, I constantly hoped and prayed that we could continue to hold it together, somehow.  My 'family', especially my children, were the light of my life, and often the ONLY thing that kept me alive.

I don't really know, even to this day, the extent of the emotional damage that may have been caused to my kids, and the trials they have faced, or may face, because of the dysfunction in our home.  But, I hope and pray every day, that I can somehow find a way to make it up to them, to help them muddle through, and to be a much better example to them now than I was then.  I hope that they feel of my spirit and know of my genuine love for them, and also for their mother, and especially for God.  My wife and I pray everyday that our kids will, "Rise Above Their Raisin".  So far, they are all doing extremely well.  (I'm really tempted to go on and on and brag all about them here - but I'll save it for a different, more appropriate place in the future of this blog)

I fought within myself, to just drive straight home, and steer clear of those places that called to me, as I would rationalize things out in my mind.   When I could find the strength and clarity in my mind to keep myself away from the those 'meeting places', I would masturbate instead, as I saw it as the lesser of two evils, and it was far less destructive to my soul.  Although I always felt guilt from masturbating, and knew that it was wrong is many ways (ie: - not pleasing to God, taking my attentions away from my wife, and a completely selfish act that involved only myself and eliminated any and all interaction with another human being) I still found that the guilt and pain after masturbation was minimal compared to the massive amount of guilt, shame, and self-hatred that I always experienced after an incident with some anonymous man.  The guilt and heartache would hold me at bay for months at a time, and each time I would almost believe that I would never go back.  I'm sure it seems ridiculous that I would ever go back, after such pain and suffering to my soul, but I did....again....and again....and again.

The most devastating and unbelievable thing about all of this is, the extreme danger of contracting AIDS or some other sexually transmitted disease, and especially the unforgivable risk I was taking with the lives of my wife and children as well.  Even still, with my constant knowledge of, worry, and remorse regarding the risks, I continued to give in to my urges and my destructive behavior did not cease.  It is, and always will be, almost unbearable to think of it still to this day.  I can't begin to explain how blessed (and lucky - for lack of a better word) I feel to have somehow dodged a bullet that I continued to put at my head (not to mention my family's as well).

I remember through those 'worst' years, as my behavior became more and more self destructive, I still and always had much love for my wife.  I don't really know how I could continue to hurt her like I did, I will be forever remorseful, broken hearted, and ashamed for the immense pain and suffering I burdened her with.  I continue to humble myself and ask God to help me as I attempt to prove my true love to her and possibly help in some way to mend her broken heart.    As cruel as this sounds, I always knew that she needed me, and I did want to be her lover, and her friend, and her soft place to fall, but I just didn't have anything to offer since I was so empty myself.  My unmet needs left me with nothing to offer the one I loved most, and, since I didn't understand myself or my life's problems, I lacked understanding and compassion for her and hers.  Whatever understanding I did have for my wife's pain & suffering was usually overshadowed by the knowledge that 'I' was the cause of it all, and that just made me double depressed, and pity myself even more.  It was a endless, hopeless, and self destructive cycle.  It was like I was living in a whirlwind.

Thankfully, eventually things began to change.....

"Sometimes God calms the storm, and Sometimes God let's the storm rage, and He calms His child"
        (this is what happened to me, and it is the rest of the story soon to come)