being out

found myself in the midst of an interesting online chat conversation this weekend. i was talking with a couple of twentysomething gay men, and i asked what for me is the inevitable question when getting to know other gay men, "when did you come out?" now i recognize that not everyone is "out" in all aspects of their lives and some, particularly guys in their early 20's, may not be out at all, but that's my entry question to get to that type of information. plus it's my way of introducing my own bias which is that to "be out" should be how all of us in the lgbt community (particularly the "l" and "g" parts) should be living our lives.

now the response was interesting. both guys indicated that they were out to some friends and family but not to everyone nor did they see the need to be so. the rationale given by one was that, "after all, straight people don't feel a need to come out and declare that they are proud of being straight." my retort was basically, "well, don't kid yourself. straight people are unashamedly out every moment of their lives. they have no problem openly discussing who they find attractive, with whom they desire to be in relationship, and with whom they are romantically involved." the response to this was "of course, they are. that's because we live in a heteronormic society." my response, "exactly."

and really that is the point. the reason straight people don't "come out" is that the prevailing assumption (not just by heterosexuals mind you) is that an individual is straight unless otherwise proven otherwise. now to me that notion of "coming out" with all of the trappings associated with it (heartfelt, tear filled confessions or militant declarations being the usual images that come to mind) is not as important as "being out."

why? i've always had a two pronged rationalization for the importance of being out. the first and primary reason is that it really is the healthiest way to live for the individual. living in truth is just always better than living with any amount of deception especially when it has to do with one's identity. are there instances when someone has to be closeted? absolutely. but as i've maintained for many years, "the closet" should always be viewed as a necessary evil that may have to be endured for a season of life. it should not be how one chooses to live one's life indefinitely. the mental anguish experienced by that state of being can ultimately be damaging and certainly cannot compare to the freedom experienced by those who are out.

the second reason for my encouraging people to be out is that in a heteronormic society, all of us need to be reminded that there are a great number of people that don't fit the norm. we particularly need to be reminded that just because you aren't the norm doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with you. your hopes, desires, and ways of living your life can be very much similar to the norm, or, even more importantly, they can be very different than the norm but that doesn't make you subversive or dangerous. it just means you're human.

odd

odd. it was the last word i received in an online chat i was having yesterday evening. odd. a simple three letter word that seems to characterize perfectly just about everything in my life right now -- how i'm feeling, how people are acting and reacting, how events are playing out. it all just seems very strange. 

i was reflecting earlier today that i feel like up until a few weeks ago, i was walking this tightrope of some basic level of rationality and good humor. Then recent events brought disappointment and hurt and the rope snapped. now i seem to be in an emotional free fall of sadness and depression. there are moments that i feel my descent is slowing and that i'm perhaps even close to stopping. then the moments pass and the abyss swallows me up again. 

it has not been a good time. odd indeed.

piles and stacks

whenever i get in a blue mood, my organizational skills (or perhaps motivation is the issue) tend to go to pot. as a result items don't get put away in drawers or on shelves or in folders, but rather, they accumulate in piles and stacks on any clear surface that is available. sometimes they are neatly arranged; often they are not -- the bluer the mood, the greater the disarray.

this would be fine if i were a person who functions well in clutter. you know the type. it looks like their office space was just hit by a tornado, yet if you ask them if they have a copy of the memo issued two months ago about the latest policy change, they go right to the middle of one of their piles of paper and pull it right out and hand it to you. i'm not one of those types of people. if something is buried in a stack, it is unlikely that i will have any idea where it is. during these times, my personal and work spaces would be great places to hide anything you don't want found for a good, long time -- christmas presents, subpoenas, old boyfriends, you name it.

eventually, no matter how down i may feel, i get to the state where i have to get some organization back. i'm in that frame of mind right now with my office. now i don't quite have the energy to go through and fully organize, but i have been working with a stop-gap system until my mood improves. i'm going through a kind of triaging of the stacks and putting them in one of three groupings -- stuff that can be trashed now, stuff that i probably should keep if i stay in this job but can be trashed if i don't, and stuff i want to keep no matter what.

it's working pretty well so far. however, going through the various piles of files, magazines, brochures and loose papers has been like watching my work life flash before my eyes. there are moments of, "i remember this project, this is good work," and "this meeting/event/activity was such a joke," and even, "i wondered what happened to this material." while it's been nice to rediscover things that i thought were lost or to be reminded of the good times i've had in this role, it also has been kind of sad to see that despite all my best efforts so little has actually changed for the better. in fact, i feel like the whole environment has devolved back to an even worse state than when i got here. then again, i do have a tendency to see the glass half empty rather than half full.

ah well, hopefully, the desired change will be official soon, and with that a lift in my mood will take place. then i can really get in there and organize things for the next phase of life. that does remind me though to get to that next phase will require a move -- another activity not high on my list of things to do. well that's fodder for another entry. right now, i need to get back to shoveling through the flotsam and jetsam that is the product of my current work life.  

on the other side

yesterday afternoon i was having a conversation with a friend/colleague about the dismal state of affairs in our organization. this individual knows of my likely impending departure and has been very enthusiastic and supportive. well, the course of the conversation did little to help my depressed state, and i basically told him that i found the whole thing to be discouraging. he then stated that i should feel happy because i'm getting to move on to a great new opportunity. now, setting aside the fact that my "moving on" is not yet official, as much as i appreciate and am grateful for the opportunity, i've had the experience that even the best job situation can change seemingly overnight. people leave, new people come in and what was a great job can turn into a nightmare. still be that as it may, there's an even more interesting twist to this.

my friend/colleague also has a strong desire to leave and has been living vicariously through me as i've been going through the new job process. having observed my depressed state over the past several weeks, yesterday, he was telling me that he wants me to be more excited about what's to come. i think in part that comes from his own depression about what is transpiring and that he doesn't have an exit strategy at this time. the reason why i found this situation interesting is that my depression is not just based on work but is equally founded in the disruption in my own home life, namely the break-up with my ex and no reasonable prospects for a significant love relationship on the horizon. it's in that dimension of life that our roles become reversed. i look at his home life with some degree of envy. he has a wonderful wife and children. they have lived in their community for several decades and they just have a rich and full, loving home. my life feels very empty by comparison.

segue to an online chat yesterday evening. somehow the topic of my relationship with my mother came up.  more specifically the discussion focused on her lack of acceptance of the fact that i'm gay. during the course of the dialogue, my well-meaning chat partner was coming up with all kinds of suggestions of what i should do to alter the situation. i get that a lot when the subject comes up actually. i blame it in part on all of the media portrayals of parents reconciling with and accepting their gay children. it's a lovely image, but as i told this friend, i don't see this particular situation having a lifetime/hallmark movie ending.

the crux of the matter is my mother is an evangelical christian, and as is characteristic of people of that ilk, she allows much of her worldview to be informed and shaped by the ministers in that faith tradition. my friend even made the statement that she needs to be exposed to gay men to change her mind. my response was simply that if my mother would choose to believe other people, i.e., the gay opposing pastors of her faith, rather than the lived experience of her own son, then i wasn't quite sure what other gay men were going to be able to shift her perspective on the matter.

this fact has always been the most deeply painful aspect of my relationship with my mother. it's very much as if our relationship is a living example of that mathematical concept that this friend reminded me of in another conversation. it's the one where if two people are standing apart from each other and keep halving the distance between them, they will eventually get very close but will never touch. that's us, my mother and me. two individuals bound by blood but always separated by at least half.

so yesterday two different conversations. each reminding me of how people looking into my life try to find some light.  and how, from the vantage point of the inside looking out, the view is quite cloudy.

stasis

sta·sis noun \ˈstā-səs, ˈsta-\

1: a slowing or stoppage of the normal flow of a bodily fluid or semifluid: as a : slowing of the current of circulating blood b : reduced motility of the intestines with retention of feces

2a : a state of static balance or equilibrium : stagnation b : a state or period of stability during which little or no evolutionary change in a lineage occurs

from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary

the word "stasis" popped into my head as i was driving home last night. i was thinking about my frustration and deepening depression associated with the glacial like pace at which any progress on much of anything in my life seems to be proceeding. though i've included the various definitions of "stasis" above, fans of science fiction will also be aware that this word is at times used to describe a state of suspended animation in which characters are placed to allow them to survive deep space travel or be protected from some illness until a cure is discovered.

this feeling of being in a suspended sleep was quite pervasive yesterday. as the day went on it was almost as if i could feel cryogenic fluid being pumped into my veins, coarsing through my limbs, filling my lungs and stilling my heart. it's not an unusual feeling and certainly not unprecedented for my times of depression. this chilling numbness usually results in my becoming quite closed off to my own feelings and likely the feelings of other. i become somewhat uncaring about what is and is to come. my wit becomes quicker, my sarcasm more biting, and my tongue (or keyboard) sharper. i try to be careful when i am in this state, so that any wound i might inflict is as stinging as the faintest paper cut. usually i succeed and elicit more laughter than injury. but sometimes i cut deeper and if not careful i go to the bone.

hopefully, no such damage occurred last night during the course of my various discourses. in any event the freezing fluid that seemed to fill me yesterday, began seeping out very slowly through my tear ducts over the course of the evening and continued upon my waking this morning. now, i feel and what i'm feeling is not great. as as result, i'm questioning which state i prefer. maybe it's time for a refill.

a note

i got a note from someone last friday with whom i've been in recent conflict. the note said simply, "so you really not speaking with me anymore." i thought about responding. i thought about explaining that when i'm in a particularly vulnerable place, my self-preservation instinct takes hold, and i tend to avoid anything that could be potentially hurtful. i thought about telling him that i felt that neither of us were in a good place to be able to produce a productive dialogue and that i just saw the pattern of misunderstanding and misperceptions continuing, and speaking for my part, just mounting hurt upon hurt in my heart. i thought about writing i have a hard time coming back from being characterized as a stalker, a user, and an emotional basket case to mutual associates. i thought about writing a lot of things. but i didn't. it seemed kind of silly to write back a message that basically said, "yes, i'm really not speaking with you anymore." was i wrong?

stretched thin

this week has started out with me in the strangest of moods, particularly when i consider i had a quite lovely weekend. i am not sure then why i am so weary and worn out. last night i just collapsed into bed -- spent both physically and emotionally, lacking motivation to do much of anything. this morning i awoke in the same state.

there is a statement that bilbo baggins makes to gandalf at the beginning of the fellowship of the ring that really captures how i feel:

I'm old, Gandalf. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel... thin. Sort of stretched, like... butter scraped over too much bread.

now, while i am older, i recognize i'm not old (except in gay years. by that calendar i'm practically prehistoric). what i do feel though is stretched to my thinnest point. like there's really nothing left to give. and i feel it deep in my heart.

when you're in a place like this (and i have been before), it's difficult to imagine that life will be any other way. it feels as if you will continue to be stretched until you're pulled apart altogether. that's where hope and faith have to kick in, even if your capacity for either feels as stretched out as the rest of you.

worn, weary, thin. yep, that about covers it.