New Beginnings

Today, for the first time ever in my life, I went to a church that was not the LDS church. Judging on the length of this post alone, the Unitarian Universalists made quite the impression.

As I've previously discussed in this blog, my issues with the LDS church can be traced to several years before I realized I was gay and are entirely separate from "the gay thing". And while I did start to feel distance from the church over the three years between that first crisis of faith and when I came out to myself, I didn't really realize that divide between who I was and who the church wanted me to be until after I started dating Doricha.

I went through stages with my personal faith, ranging from wanting to continue attending the LDS church to wanting to never attend church again. In that first little while after I came out to myself, I had such bigger fish to fry than where to go to church. My soul was in tumult over my sexuality and my faith system kind of took a back seat in all of it.

So I guess it's a sign of progress on my part that I'm finally feeling ready to start looking to maybe find a new church. 

I casually looked into Buddhism for a short while but, while I liked some of the basic tenants, I couldn't get behind many of the core beliefs. Then I stumbled across Unitarian Universalism. A good friend of my from high school was hard core UU and was one of the most open-minded, loving, accepting people I've ever known. I looked at my local congregation's website and this looked like stuff I could really get behind: open to everybody especially LGBT, committed to social justice. Most of all, they teach their children to love and respect everyone regardless of what they believe. And they teach their children to learn from their friends' beliefs.

The service itself was incredible. I went by myself, entirely unsure of what to expect. As soon as I walked in the door, a very kind lady said hello and introduced herself and invited me to make a nametag for myself. She also pointed me toward another table where I could put my name down to get a permanent nametag. At that other table, another very kind lady offered me a pamphlet of information on the congregation and the Unitarian Universalists as a whole. She encouraged me to fill out a contact form and join the email list if I wanted to so I could know what was going on in the community.

I walked into the chapel (is that what it's called in every faith or just Mormonism?), entirely unsure of what to expect. It was absolutely beautiful. It was in the corner of the small building which allowed floor to ceiling windows on nearly every wall. There were lots of rows of chairs grouped in sections much like the pews in an LDS chapel. They were all facing a stage like that of Protestant churches I've visited. It was a simple stage with a pulpit but no barrier between the congregation and the speakers. A small choir was seated on the stage as well as (who I later found out was) the two ministers and the two ministers in training for the congregation. Around me were all kinds of people. A surprising amount of older people considering  had always kind of thought of UU churches as being for hippies. A good number of families with small children, although I didn't see many high school aged kids. Do they have a service of their own? Or do they go to the morning service? (There are two, one at 9:15 and one at 11:15 and I went to the later one.)

The service itself was beautiful. It featured short musical interludes, singing from the congregation (although I didn't recognize any of the hymns we sang), and sermons from the pastors. (What's the difference between a pastor and a minister? More jargon I don't know from being Mormon.) The first sermon was for the children in the congregation. The female minister gave them a short talk about how today was Easter and that was a very special day for some people in the world and how it's all about new beginnings. She talked about flowers and bunnies and stuff. And then she led them through a very short guided meditation. The other minister joined her with a hand puppet hippie dog (kid you not) who had some great quips which the congregation got a good chuckle out of. Apparently the hand puppet is called Minister Barkley.

After the short part with the children, they were dismissed to their classes and just the adults were left in the congregation. The did an offering, where baskets were passed around and some people gave money. (I think this is mostly the norm is Protestant services?) During this time, anyone who wanted to was invited to come to the front and light a candle for a joy or a sorrow in their life.

After this, the two ministers in training gave sermons. Both talked about Easter, but it was very very different from the talks I heard in the LDS congregation later that day. The topic that the ministers had chosen to discuss was New Beginnings. How appropriate. How appropriate for me. And the sermons were beautiful, bringing in tenants of many faiths and opportunities to learn from all people.

The entire service just felt so good. I have not felt that good at church in years. I was completely at peace and I felt so comfortable, even though I didn't know anyone around me. Being in the light-filled room surrounded by people who were ready and willing to accept me for me...it was beautiful.

Next time, I'm going to go to their before-service meet and greet. Maybe I'll go to both services, just to see what they're like.

I know one thing for sure: I'm definitely going back.

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Announcing: The Return

Hi. It's been a very long time since I've posted anything.

I think that's partially because I don't need this blog as much as I did a year ago. Someday I'll talk about what that time was like, in retrospect. Suffice it to say, now I am open and honest and real and if I am sad it's not because of secrets. Because I have less secrets, I have less need for a secret blog!

This is all going to change exactly a month from today. After a year away, I will be returning to Provo for the summer.

I'm trying to promise myself that I'll be more open this time, but let's be real...I probably won't. Old habits die hard. And I still don't want my roommates to be scared of or weirded out by or sickened by me. And now I have short hair which just automatically gives me about twenty Scary Lesbian points.

But things are changing.  Have you heard about the Gay Student Panel at BYU? It was an INCREDIBLE success. People are ready to talk. Because of people who are forever braver than I am.

You know, people tell me I'm brave. My friends tell me all the time I'm so brave I'm so strong. But man...look at my friends who are still there. Who are there and open and proud. They're the brave ones. They're the strong ones.

Change won't happen overnight. But hopefully slowly but surely, nobody will ever have to feel like they are the only one.

~

I'm going to try to update regularly this summer about what's actively going on in my life. Since this is my gay blog, it'll probably be about the things that I'm seeing and experiencing around Provo. I'm also most likely coming out to my mom this summer.

I'll also try to fill in the gaps left in my story. I know that was the original premise of this blog - to tell my story. And I never told the juicy parts! I'll try to get there this summer as well.

A goal I have for myself to improve my writing. My writing has really devolved in the past few years and I'm just not nearly as eloquent as I used to be. I'd love to get some of both my eloquence and my wit back.

Good luck with your finals everyone and I'll talk to you soon.

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The Living Love Story

We are the anguish and the trial. We are the joy and the hope. We are the example. We are the impossibility. We are the one-in-a-million.

We are young. Too young, some might say. Not so young as we were, though. We have grown old. Our eyes are weary as we look backwards into the light. And surely our eyes will continue to dim as the years pass. We are so young now. We must be very young. Very young to be so full of hope. Hope is all we have sometimes.

We fit all the descriptors, all the markers you must fill. Troubled pasts, secrets, mystery. The bill is there and we fit it perfectly. Running from who we were. Starting over. For some reason in the stories you never see them cry over their past. In the stories it's easy to say good riddance and cast it all off, not a second glance. Don't the people in the stories have mothers? And fathers? Mommies who they cried out for in the night and Daddies who taught them every important lesson in the world? In the stories they leave everything. Good riddance. And it is easier to head forward than backward. They never cry. Or if they do, they only cry once.

We are real. We are two people who exist, who have friends, who have lives. We aren't on a screen or a page. We're your friends. But the way it works is a story. It's a tragedy at times and sometimes it's so funny. We cry from the sorrow and we cry from the joy. And the emotions are so intense that it has the power to bring you, the onlooker, into our emotions and you will cry will us.

And so it is a love story.

All the great love stories have those tears in them. The why is this unfair tears and the why is this so beautiful tears. And you cry because it's not just this life of someone else it's because you see a little bit of yourself somewhere in that love story, or a little bit of what you hope is yourself. And we are the living love story. They so eagerly follow us and hold us up to those around them, see who my friends are! And they cry at our injustice. They fall over themselves with our joy. Because our joy is their joy. Because it is a love story.

But all the parts that make a love story are so hard to live. You cry because you're sad for them. But when it is you, when you're crying because it is hurting you, it is a million times the worse. You cry so that it shakes your body, shakes your whole world. You cry when nobody's looking. You cry so many more times than would ever be on a screen or on a page. Because the full tragedy of it, that's not something you can knowingly give to another person. That's not fair.

We are the hope for the future. We're the light, the here and the now. We are a love story, living and breathing. And we will be one of the ones that makes you cry at the end because you're happy.

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It Gets Better? Really?

The "It Gets Better" campaign is doing a really wonderful thing. I really believe that. It's clear with the number of gay suicides we're hearing about (and what about the ones we don't hear about? The ones that aren't publicized? Or the ones where nobody knew he was gay?) that this is something that needs to be happening right now.

But I find the campaign kind of frustrating at times.

People bullying you at school? It'll be okay. Someday you'll get a job and you'll make real friends who are nice and not bullies. Besides bullies just bully you to feel better about themselves. Feel alone? You're not alone, promise. And look, we're all in adorable relationships and are super successful now and some of us have cute kids!

Which is great and all.

But have you noticed that the people in the videos never really talk about their parents?

So what about if your friends are super supportive, you go to a school where you can be really open without fear, you have a beautiful girlfriend, you're smart and on track to be successful, you're confident...and the only source of sadness in your life is the knowledge that your parents will not and cannot accept you?

They never seem to talk about that.

When your father says the words, "I love you and I will always love you, but I cannot support the choices you're making right now. This is a path that only leads to darkness and sadness." When he can't say the word "gay" or "homosexual" or even your girlfriend's name out loud.

They don't talk about what it's like to know that someday you will have to choose whether to go to a family event or to pretend you're not happily married while you're there. Because bullies might go away. But your family? You don't leave your family behind.

They just might leave you behind.

So does it get better? I don't know. I wanted to believe for so long that it would. But now I'm not so sure. Christmas morning with my family and us as a couple is such a beautiful dream, but I think it will only ever be a dream. A dream I shouldn't have because it just makes me sad to dream it. It builds false hopes. I keep hoping that it'll "get better" and I've put so much stock behind this idea that "it gets better" and I think...I think it's time to give up that dream.

I think it's time to accept that it getting better depends on what "it" is.

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The Part With The First Prayer

Holy shit.

I was finally alone.

What had just happened?

I had just kissed a girl. Three times. I told her that I had feelings for her. I was trying to deny that those feelings existed. What was I going to do?

I couldn't do this. No. The church was too important to me. I loved God and I knew that he loved me and this thing...whatever it was...this was not what God wanted for me. God wanted me to find a nice boy and go to the temple and have a great life that was slightly unconventional but was righteous and good.

Kissing girls was not righteous and good.

Okay it was good.

No. Stoppit.

My mind was in a million places. I couldn't even feel my body and I didn't know what I was doing or who I was. In a literal and metaphorical sense.

What are we going to do? we kept asking each other.

I finally fell to my knees. And the words that I prayed shocked me.

Dear Heavenly Father. Thank you for bringing Doricha into my life. Thank you for letting her like me. Thank you for letting this happen. Thank you for her. Thank you for making her. She's so incredible, Father. Thank you for tonight. I know you don't like it. I'm sorry about that. I'll try to fix it. But thank you so much. Thank you.


For several months after that very first night with Doricha, I prayed every single night (I was never ever good about morning prayers, I am NOT a morning person). Every. Night. I didn't know if I wanted to be in the church anymore. I didn't know if I believed in God anymore. Not because of Doricha...but it was stuff that had been there for a long time, stuff that was bubbling to the surface.

But I kept praying.

And it was always so much the same.

Thank you for letting me love her, Father. Thank you for bringing her into my life. Thank you for letting her love me. I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you want. But she makes me so happy, Father. I am so happy with her.


I poured my soul out to God in so much the same way that I did when I was happy over the good Mormon boy I met at EFY.

I am so happy, Father. I know this is not what you want. But I love her so much and I am so happy. Thank you for letting us be together. Thank you so much.


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