Photo by Paul Skorupskas on Unsplash
So it’s been a while since I’ve written anything for my blog, which was an active choice on my part, and incidentally, had nothing to do with Covid.
October 2019 I was feeling very lonely. For all intents and purposes, life was pretty good. But I was lonely. I was struggling with more than just loneliness, however, because I also felt even more restricted by being active in the church, which I really loved, but also wanting companionship with a man. I just couldn’t figure out how to reconcile wanting to have a more “intimate” relationship with a man while “being active” in the church. It felt like too much of a contradiction – I suppose we call it Cognitive Dissonance these days, and that’s an apt description. I felt out of balance, out of harmony.
I was slowly coming to the conclusion that maybe the answer was that I needed to pause my activity in the church and pursue finding a relationship. Not with the intention of turning my back on the church, but to actually honor the sacredness with which I hold church doctrines and not feel like I was being duplicitous or living a double standard by dating men while being active in church. I didn’t know if those two things could co-exist, and I guess in my heart, I felt like I didn’t want to offend God by saying, “yes, I believe in and with agree with your teachings, but then I’m just going to flaunt them by living ‘contrary’ to those teachings.” That would be lying to God and to myself, and I just couldn’t do that.
This was an intense period of inner turmoil. How could I actually be contemplating doing something I said I would never do and leave church activity? There was a part of me that felt like if I left the church and started dating men – with everything that it might entail – then I would never go back. That broke my heart, but such is the power of the need for connection and companionship. I literally felt like I was starving for a man’s touch and affection.
Can I just be real here for a second? Please don’t misread what I’m saying as me looking for an excuse to have sex – because that isn’t what I’m talking about. To be perfectly frank, sex was never – and still isn’t – a part of the equation. I would be fine without sex [I mean I’m 43 years old, I’ve made it this far…]. What I’m talking about IS literally companionship – affection, tenderness, kindness, caring, being with someone when I’m happy, sad, scared, lonely, etc. My love language is touch. To be without touch feels like I am a withering plant or like I’m dying inside. It’s more than just loneliness – it’s emptiness, darkness, hopelessness, starvation, and yes, even death. None of which is going to be filled with sex, which I believe is true for anyone, regardless of your “sexual” orientation.
I spent a great deal of time in prayer. I did not make this decision lightly. I wrestled for weeks with what I wanted and what I felt like I needed to do. At times it felt like it was the only course of action and inevitable. At other times it felt like the ultimate betrayal to God and that I would be forever damned for taking this course of action. As I prayed, I did feel that I received multiple responses from Heavenly Father. I did not hear a voice, or have a vision – nothing so grandiose or profound, but I did get answers – eventually. While I can’t relate everything I felt in my heart, I just want to share the gist of the message I did receive.
Not once did I ever feel the Lord giving me permission to leave the church, nor did I feel Him giving me direction to leave the church, but what I felt was His support with whatever choice I decided to make. It was as if He was saying, “I can’t really tell you what to do here – this has to be up to you. But Micah, if you decide to leave the church, I know you aren’t leaving me and I’m not leaving you. Do what you need to do, but I’m still here.” I still get emotional thinking about it. It wasn’t so much that He was supporting my course of action as it was he was supporting me. For me personally, it was a confirmation that my journey is my own, and that whatever road I might be walking, He’s still here walking it with me.
I called my Bishop, who is also my ministering brother, and he came over and we had a good talk. I could never say enough good things about how loving and supportive he was. While he couldn’t know it, his response echoed Heavenly Father’s message to me – “we love you, we support you; do what you need to do, but we’re still here.” He honored my request to be released from my callings at the end of the year and then, beginning January 2020, I would stop going to church. I was about to say, “leave the church,” but that’s not entirely true. I did keep my ministering assignments, because I love my families and didn’t want to lose connection with them.
My next big task was to go about finding “my community.” Not just dating, but actually looking for more friends in the LGBTQ community. I did not have any close gay friends and I was feeling very isolated from the queer community in general. It was like wanting to go to a foreign country, but not knowing the language or the customs and I found that it was a much more daunting task than I anticipated. I signed up to be a volunteer with the Utah Pride Center, thinking that at least I could make some connections there.
Then the world imploded.
Covid-19 swept the globe and everything shut down. It was hard not to take that personally. After all the emotional turmoil I went through, suddenly all avenues of making connections in the gay community were gone.
A couple months prior, as I was planning to stop going to church, I was speaking with a friend about it and he said, “you know, maybe you should be blogging about what you’re going through.” I agreed with him, I thought it was a great idea. But somehow, I just couldn’t. To this day, I still don’t really know why I couldn’t. I attempted to several times, but ultimately, I just couldn’t. That, in and of itself, was strange because writing has always been so therapeutic for me.
Then everything shut down and it was taking all I had just to get through each day. Work was changing rapidly as the nursing home I work in rapidly shut down all non-essential personnel and instituted a host of isolation and contact precautions, which was necessary, but incredibly stressful – for us as employees as well as my patients.
In the first couple of months of the shut down – I would say from about March through April – I gained about 30 pounds; essentially all of the weight I had worked so hard the last year to lose.
I was heartbroken on so many levels. Mentally, emotionally, physically, socially, etc. It was an incredibly dark period for me and the only thing that made it worse was not having anyone to turn to. It wasn’t that I didn’t have people in my life to reach out to, but who could I talk to that would really understand my situation? I had no one that I felt I could relate to and I didn’t know anyone that I felt could relate to me.
So I ate. I gained weight. I stopped working out (gyms were closed anyway!). I struggled to wake up each day. I struggled to have any purpose. In a way, looking back, I think my patient’s helped me more than I ever helped them, because I was glad that there were people who needed me. Or at the very least, were happy to see me each day, and that was something.
All around us other facilities were having outbreaks and we were just waiting for our turn. As our director kept saying, “it’s not a matter of if, but when.” For us, “when” turned out to be mid-December. I got Covid right at the cusp of the outbreak in our facility. It was the week before Christmas, which meant I would be quarantining in my apartment for the next two weeks and would not be able to see my family for Christmas. I was mad, and again, heartbroken. I am extremely grateful for technology that allowed me to be with my family over Zoom and we could still “open presents together,” but it just wasn’t the same as being there, obviously.
I also credit my Bishop, again, and several other people from my ward, who checked in on me and brought me food and treats. They kept me alive in more ways than one. As I said, it was a really dark time.
Perhaps it was the coincidental timing of having Covid resolve for me and my facility at the same time the year was winding down. In an unexpected way, I felt like some semblance of “closure,” and I felt hopeful for 2021. While I can’t say that I felt like everything would “return to normal,” (I don’t think anything will truly be “normal”) I did feel like everything was going to be okay. I maintain my testimony that Heavenly Father is in charge, and that nothing that happens is a surprise to Him or catches Him off guard. He isn’t just watching us go through this, He’s going through it with us. And I know He has the power to make everything okay, even when it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be.
And now here we are. I’m typing this on the last day of the first month of the new year. I found a new doctor months ago who put me on some helpful meds. I’m back at the gym working with a trainer and down about 15 pounds (only 120 more pounds to go… haha!). I turned 43 this month, which doesn’t seem possible, but there it is. And I’m finally able to reflect on what I’ve been through this last year.
I still have plans to find community and companionship this year. I still only go to church once in a while. I still struggle with knowing my purpose in life. I still have amazing friends and family. I am incredibly blessed. And yeah, I still get lonely, but I have realized a few things.
I know now that as much as I need companionship and affectionate, masculine touch, it won’t “heal” me or make everything okay (i.e., “perfect”). The problem is not that I need a man to be whole (or even just another person), the problem is that I believe that I am incomplete as I am.
Nothing I have been through has been as hard as recognizing the need, and then learning how, to change how I see myself along with how I think and feel about myself – which I know now is absolutely crucial to my growth, development, and progress. Nothing is so damaging as believing that I am worthless, ugly, and undeserving, which I have believed my whole life.
My identity has centered around all of the things I am not; or all of the things I have failed to be – attractive, desirable, fit, athletic, masculine, strong, etc. My focus has always been on what I lack. I must be the exact opposite of the rich young ruler in the Bible, who asked the Savior, “what lack I yet?” If it were me in his shoes, I’d be asking the Savior, “what do I even have to offer?”
I read and hear so many people say that you need to find your passion, you need to find your purpose, you need to follow your heart and do what makes your heart sing, and so on. To the point that now I feel like an absolute failure because I’m NOT living with “purpose” or “passion.” I’m good at my job, but I can’t say that I’m doing what makes my heart sing. For everyday that I wake up and don’t feel like I really have a purpose that day, I feel like a failure; which is not a great way to start the day.
I agree that people should do what they love, but what do you do when you have so many “passions” that you can’t possibly follow them all? I love art, music, photography, graphic design, singing, writing, exercising, traveling, hiking, tennis, volleyball, astrophysics, cellular biology, anatomy and physiology of the human body, marine biology, gardening and horticulture, movies, television, and the list goes on and on. All of them make my heart sing in one way or another. I could spend a hundred lifetimes deep diving into every single one of those topics, but… I have to pay rent. I have to buy food, and clothes, and drive a car that requires gas and insurance coverage, and pay bills for electricity, gas, and internet, etc. Sure, I could pursue a career out of any one of those things, but then how do I pick one? They all feel like they could be my purpose!!
I have come to the conclusion that all people will have their own purpose, which will look different for everyone. Maybe I have been so focused on what I’m doing – or not doing, as the case may be – that I’ve ignored the possibility that maybe my purpose should be on what I’m becoming. I am not a person whose purpose is to start a non-profit, or even a multi-billion dollar company, that changes the world, but why does it have to be? Why does my purpose have to be defined by an accomplishment? Can’t my purpose be that I worked on becoming a better human being? That I worked on not only living through some pretty traumatic events, but that I was able to overcome those traumas and make something of myself that also helps me to be a benefit to the people around me, even in some small way?
My hope is that by believing my purpose to be self-improvement that a natural outgrowth of that process will be that I am able to do something meaningful in life. And that when I do find companionship that I will be able to offer my best self – flawed and human as they come, sure – but still my best self, without placing pressure on that person to “fill my needs,” or “make me whole,” because I’m already okay with who I am.
I don’t know what this new year will bring, but perhaps for the first time in my life, for real, I am hopeful that I will end the year a better man than when I started. Not just a changed man, but someone who is becoming the best version of myself that I can be. That being said, I DO hope I change! I do hope I lose more weight this year; I do hope that I find the companionship I seek; I do hope I find my life’s mission; and I do have hope that I can learn to think and feel about myself with more love, compassion, and acceptance; that I will change my perspective from one of “pre-determined worthlessness and inevitable failure,” to “I have within me the pre-determined ability to CREATE the life I want.”
So here’s to the future – all the great things yet to come and all the great things yet to be made.
