Freemont Street to Freedom

Eight years ago, my life changed with the push of a button.

I had recently turned 39 and was seriously questioning what I was doing with my life. I was working in St. George, Utah at the time on a travel assignment when I had one of the most profound, eye-opening, life-altering experiences of my life. It was just a few weeks before the end of my assignment there and then I would be returning home to Salt Lake. But I was feeling restless, unsettled. I felt like I just needed to go somewhere and do something out of the ordinary. I was close enough to Las Vegas that I thought I would just go down on a whim and spend a couple of nights there over the weekend. (I should emphasize at this point, I’m a planner – this is NOT like me!)

I had no interest in gambling, or shows, or “the strip” in general, so I was looking at other places and found a good deal at the Golden Nugget, which was also not too far from the Outlet stores, so I thought I would just walk around, do some shopping, and just generally relax. The Golden Nugget, as I would come to learn, was also on Freemont Street. Now, back in the day, there was something called the “Freemont Street Experience.” At the time, they only did it once a month, and I just happened to book my stay that same weekend.

Essentially, they shut down Freemont Street to any traffic and allow people to roam up and down the street, visiting the bars, shops, vendors, etc. Stages had been set-up at each end of the street and bands would play. Down a large portion of the street overhead displays were set-up and would show videos/light shows timed to music. And in case that wasn’t enough, there were two stretches where you could zipline down the middle of the street! At the time you had to have a wrist band to prove you were over 21, which I thought was “alcohol” related (and I’m sure that was part of it), but also because there were street performers. I ain’t talking clowns and magicians here – this is still Vegas, after all. There were shirtless cowboys giving lap dances; winged, bikini-clad female dancers, also giving lap dances, among other people wearing racy costumes – all of which could be enjoyed, or get your photo taken with, for a little donation, of course!

Normally, this would have been a little bit much for a good, little Mormon boy from Salt Lake, like me, but something was different this time. It didn’t feel evil, or even scandalous, it felt… fun? One of the reason’s I felt like I just needed to “get away” was because of how much I was struggling to understand my sexuality. I knew that I was “in the closet” at that point, but that I was still doing “all the right things,” (church, temple, etc.) and that – even though I genuinely felt blessed for doing those things, I also felt miserable, stuck – trapped really, and I didn’t know how to come to terms with what I “felt” (being attracted to men) and what I “knew” (that I was going to hell for being attracted to men).

Even now, I don’t know if I can describe my thought process. I saw what was going on around me and wanted to be a part of it somehow. I went back to my room, freshened up, got a bunch of cash, and acknowledged that because I had felt something inside me telling me that I just needed to “get away,” that I was just going to enjoy this night and maybe more importantly, I was going to LET myself enjoy it WITHOUT judgment.

And enjoy it I did! (No, I did NOT get a lap dance, because I’m still pretty shy, BUT I got pretty close!) Reflecting on that experience, part of the enjoyment was the anonymity. I didn’t know anyone there and no one knew me. They didn’t know “who I was” on the regular day to day. They didn’t know me with any labels. More importantly, they didn’t know my past or what I was struggling with internally.

This was the first time in my life that I felt like I could just be me.

I got my picture taken with several of the street performers – male and female alike – and I loved it! The only real challenge that night was trying to find other people to take pictures for me with my phone, but people were friendly and great and more than willing to help me out.

During all of this “letting my proverbial hair down,” one moment stands out in particular. One of the vendors had been watching me ask for pictures with a bunch of the male dancers walking around. I was standing by his cart at one point and he flat out asked me – without any reservation – “are you gay?” It wasn’t a judgmental question. It wasn’t dripping with disgust. He was genuinely curious about me. But no one had ever asked me like that before, with that amount of candor. I hesitated for a split second, but then nodded my head and said, “I am.” And the shackles around my heart fell away. The weight of all the shame, guilt, and fear I had carried with me for YEARS flew from off my shoulders. It was the first time I allowed myself to admit it – to say it! And to say it out loud – without fear of retaliation, without fear of being shamed or condemned? Well, it changed something within me.

That night will go down as one of the most influential experiences of my life. It was a turning point for me. Later that night I went back to my hotel room and prayed. I thanked God for an experience that I knew He had a hand in. It wasn’t accidental that I felt a need to get away. It wasn’t circumstantial that I happened to be close enough to Las Vegas to get away. It wasn’t coincidental that I was directed to stay at that particular hotel on that particular street on that particular weekend. That whole night, I felt a spiritual companionship that I still can’t fully explain. I didn’t feel dirty. I didn’t feel depraved. I didn’t feel lost, confused, or condemned – basically all of the things I would have expected to feel. I just didn’t.

I felt seen. I felt accepted. I felt like I could be myself AND still be acceptable. I had never experienced that before.

Which left me with a conundrum. Sure, I could go to Vegas and “be myself” where no one knew me, but what about when I go back home? It was heart wrenching in a way, because I now had had a taste of a kind of freedom I had wanted my whole life, but was convinced wasn’t possible for me. And yet, there it was. I had been “out,” I had been openly gay, and I had been accepted, not just in spite of it, but BECAUSE of it. But could I be that at home? Could I be that where people DID know me?

I ended my travel assignment and headed back to Salt Lake City. On the one hand, my heart lightened for having experienced true "authenticity," but on the other hand, my heart was also a bit heavy in a way, fearful of knowing what I needed to do…

I selected 2-3 close friends – friends that I knew would be supportive, even if they couldn’t relate – and I came out to them. I shared with them what I felt and who I really am. And they were so kind and loving and I will never forget how much that meant to me. While it felt liberating to a degree to finally be honest with a few people, I realized that – even though I was “being honest” – it didn’t mean that I was being “authentic” with myself. It was a little bit like opening up the closet door a bit and peeking out. And I was terrified. Terrified to come out fully because it meant never going back. It meant opening myself up to criticism, rejection, shame, punishment, condemnation, being thrown out of the church – I mean, I just didn’t know what the consequences were going to be or how hard it would be to navigate them. It meant voluntarily giving up safety for the unknown.

But I did know something. God knew ME. He led me to Freemont Street that night and stayed with me. He was there when someone asked me if I was gay and he was there to hear me say, “I am.” And He didn’t condemn me. He didn’t punish me. He didn’t cast me off into outer darkness. Quite the opposite actually. He supported me; He comforted me; He encouraged me. Ultimately, my fears were not about God, my fears were about what I had been taught about how God would see me. But what I had been taught, did not match my experience.

I sat down and I wrote. I poured out my heart and expressed the understanding I had at the time. Then I copied that into a blog post and waited for several minutes, my mind whirling, my breath quickening, my heart racing. There would be no going back. One more quick, silent prayer – than I clicked “publish.”

And there it was – in black and white; publicly expressed for all the world to see. “Other types of closets,” published on May 16, 2017, the day I formally came out of the closet; making 5/16 my “coming-out-of-the-closet-iversary,” or my “birthgay?” My “De-closeting Day?” My “Gay Day?” I’m not sure what to call it yet! 😊

While I’ve chosen this date to celebrate a turning point in my life, it certainly didn’t happen on just one day. I wrestled with my heart, my mind, with God – and I struggled, for years, to understand myself. Celebrating coming out of the closet isn’t just about “admitting” I’m gay, it’s so much deeper. It’s about accepting myself as person, for who I am, the way I am, without guilt, without shame, without judgment, criticism, or condemnation – all of which are the negative practices I spent a lifetime “perfecting.”

And it is still a journey. I still find deep-seated fears that need to be addressed. I still find new layers of acceptance that need to be achieved. While I had previously seen that as “evidence” that I wasn’t “there” yet (whatever that means), I realize now that those are not proofs that I’m not okay, they are, in fact, proof that I am on the right path – MY path, the path God meant for me to walk. Even though the road and the obstacles and scenery are different from anyone else, I know it’s my path and I’m grateful to be on it.

I’m not going to lie and say that after I came out everything was wonderful. In fact, kind of the opposite. Coming out made life harder because of the uncertainty; because I didn’t know how to “be this way” in the world, when all I had known was secrecy, shame, and hiding myself – my real self – from everyone. I’m still learning. I’m still growing. I’m still changing. But I am so grateful today to be who I am. I am so grateful for what I am learning on this journey and for finally finding peace within myself. And I am grateful to God. I am grateful that He has not only understood me, but encouraged me to be myself and to accept myself and has not once made me feel like I was someone deserving of punishment or condemnation. No one has ever punished me for “being me” more than I have.

I am learning to overcome that deep-seated, learned self-hatred. I am learning what compassion, love, acceptance, and forgiveness really mean. It will take more time, but I am also learning to offer myself what I have never been able to do before – unconditional love.

I just needed to come out of the closet to find it.

Enjoy some photos of my Freemont Street Experience! 😊

 

 

 

  

Other types of closets

I have struggled with Same Gender Attraction (SGA) since the age of 10. Technically, that means I’m gay.

Up to now, however, they way I answered the question, “Are you gay?” depended on the day you asked me. Some days I'd say, Yes; other days I'd say, No; which may not make sense to some people. If I’m attracted to other men, then why would I NOT self-identify as gay? To sum it up in one word – behavior. I don’t live a gay lifestyle. Do I “feel” gay – yes. Do I “act” gay – no (although some people might disagree! I mean I HAVE always been a “sensitive” guy and I DO have a longstanding obsession with the Care Bears…!).

If I feel gay, then why not act gay? I can also sum that up in one word – church. I can’t separate my identity from being LDS because it IS a part of who I am – and not just because “I was raised that way.” If I’m being completely honest, yes, my parents were very clear that I was expected to continue the same belief system, BUT – at some point – I had to know for myself if my religion was truly the right religion for me. I had to know – what DID I believe about God and religion and specifically about LDS beliefs? The short response is: I came to know for myself that the church is true, or in other words, that its teachings are true doctrine from God. I’ve had too many experiences and witnesses to deny it – and I don’t deny it; and I hope I never will deny it. But what I also can’t deny is how I feel. And believe me – when I say “I’ve struggled,” that there is no earthly way I have adequate words to describe the hell that I’ve been through in battling these feelings of SGA.

I know – and I accept – that being homosexual is contrary to God’s plan for his children. (In this instance, I’m not talking about how he wants all of his children to be happy and to follow their own path even though I believe in that as well.) I truly believe that marriage should be between a man and a woman and that mother/father/children are central to Heavenly Father’s plan for progression for all his children, such as outlined in the Proclamation on the Family. And yet…

Being LDS (active and in good standing with a current Temple Recommend) hasn’t taken those “other” feelings away. I’m approaching 30 years of praying, fasting, crying, pleading, bargaining, suffering, punishing myself, torturing myself, hating myself – and not once have these feelings diminished. How can that be explained? If I believe the Gospel is true, if I believe that marriage between man and woman is right, if I want to follow God’s plan, if I have been asking in faith, believing that Heavenly Father can change my heart, asking for what’s right – then why has my prayer not been answered? Why has that scriptural promise not been fulfilled for me? I’ve been through every level of: it’s because I’m worthless to because this is just the cross He wants me to bear through life and continue to choose to remain faithful – which I have strived to do so far. Ultimately, though, I don’t know how to answer that question.

But I do know that I’ve been hiding a part of myself. At first I didn’t want anyone to know that I struggled with SGA because I was SO ashamed of who I was – I FELT wrong; I felt like I was a damaged thing that wasn’t worth existing. (I have explained in previous posts how I was suicidal through most of my teenage years - now you know the real reason why…) As I entered counseling and learned to open up to a very select few (my parents, bishops, counselors, etc.), I still kept it hidden from everyone else. I believed that I would change – that God would change me – and so I didn’t want anyone to know what I struggled with because I didn’t want anyone to see me “that way.” I didn’t want them to remember me “that way,” especially after I received this inevitable and miraculous change that Heavenly Father was going to bless me with.... But I still felt damaged and broken. A part of me was still “in the closet.”

Eventually, I realized that what I needed to learn, was that even though I’m “broken,” I’m still okay. I came to the realization that I did not choose to have these feelings – quite the opposite – I feel like I’ve done all I could to change them. I realized that it was the secrecy that was increasing the shame. So, little by little, over the last year, I’ve been telling people, testing the waters, I suppose. I specifically selected a few individuals that I felt would not judge me and would be supportive, which they were – and I will always dearly love them for that.

What they taught me was that it didn’t change the way they saw me – they still loved and accepted me for who I am – even if I felt like I had never really shown “my true self…” They taught me that I’ve never been able to do that for myself – I’ve never been able to accept myself. I mean, how could I when I thought of myself as this damaged, worthless thing that wasn’t worth being changed. So I’m writing this post to open up about what I’ve lived with – struggled with – for almost 30 years.

I was 10 years old; I was in 5th grade and I have a perfectly clear recollection of what initiated these feelings and the exact moment when these feelings started. I have spent SO MANY YEARS asking why. Why me? Why this? Why have I dealt with this for so long now? After years in therapy and counseling I think I can identify what contributed to these feelings of SGA.

To the best of my knowledge it’s the result of mild dysfunctional family patterns and being molested on two different occasions (by two different perpetrators). I held hope for years that if I could find the cause(s) of my SGA then I could change the feelings, but that has not proven to be the case – which is devastating, to say the least. [I should just insert here that I want to be clear that I am only talking about my case; circumstances that are specific to me. I’m not suggesting that everyone who is gay has a cause or contributing factors like mine. I think there are a multitude of possible causes and I think it would be hurtful to someone who is gay to assume that they are only gay as a result of a sexual trauma. I would venture to guess that the majority of people who are gay have not experienced a sexual trauma, so there are other factors and I would never presume to know all of them.]

I suppose I should also admit that my own personality is a factor. As I mentioned above, I have always been very sensitive. I think this has been both a blessing and a weakness, depending on the circumstances. I realized at a very young age that I was “different” in my sensitivity. (This is going to sound totally prideful and I really don’t mean it to sound that way!) I saw patterns that other people my age didn’t see. I felt things about people that other people didn’t feel. I sometimes just knew things about people that I couldn’t explain how I knew – and it was usually something related to emotions. I suppose it’s just empathy, maybe, but I felt like I could readily identify other people’s emotions. I could tell when someone was angry because they were scared versus angry because they had been wronged. (I am an INFJ on the Myers-Briggs personality test, which I feel is pretty accurate for me.) I think that empathy has been a blessing when it comes to dealing with others, but a weakness when it comes to myself because I am not actually empathetic with myself. If anything, I’m over-sensitive to how I think other people see me (especially how I felt my parents interacted with me, but that’s a totally different post!). I actually remember the moment that I felt ashamed of my body. How old do you think I was? A teenager? Starting puberty? Nope. I was six. Six years old. I mean, what six year old boy feels shame about his body?!

I think this also contributed to me feeling like I wasn’t really a man. I saw that society had a very clear definition of what a man was – strong, quiet/stoic, reacts with physicality – not words, non-emotive, and even fearful of effeminate traits. Well, I was more feminine than masculine. I lived in the world of feelings. I couldn’t turn them off. Everything I did was surrounded in a shroud of feeling. Feelings were my compass. I had learned to trust my feelings. But it also meant that I wasn’t really masculine. Well, if I’m biologically male, but have these largely feminine traits, then what am I? More importantly, what was I going to grow up to be? Hence the identity confusion.

I may be wrong because I’m not a social scientist, so please don’t take this as the absolute truth, but as I understand it, sex refers to a biological state; whereas gender is much more of a fluid/dynamic, socially defined set of traits. For example, having one type of sex organ is a sex trait, but being aggressive is a gender trait – which we either label “masculine or feminine.” This is why I prefer the term Same Gender Attraction* (SGA), over Same Sex Attraction (SSA). I’m not just attracted to all men outright – much like any heterosexual person isn’t automatically attracted to EVERYONE of the opposite sex. I’m attracted to certain masculine qualities – ones in particular that I felt were lacking in myself; things like strength, confidence, athleticism, and a host of others.

Someone once asked me if I had ever felt attracted to a woman and the answer is yes – several times, actually. Which could open a discussion for being bi-sexual, but when I feel attracted to women far less often than men, I’m willing to accept the label of being gay over being bi-sexual. But I tried to date women. I allowed myself to be set-up on blind dates. It was always with the hope that I would meet the woman who would change me or who would help make those attractions to men diminish. When it didn’t happen that way ever – I got scared. I ended the relationship with “I’m not ready,” which was totally true, but also only half the story. I couldn’t bear to offend a daughter of God by dragging her through my sh!t. I felt that admitting to SGA would be a huge betrayal or that she might feel like I was lying to her from the beginning – which, I guess I was. I felt it was better to hurt someone by ending a relationship with a vague answer, rather than hurt her with the truth. Which is why I’m currently not dating! It’s such a landmine of emotions that I prefer to avoid it for the time being.

Yes, I would like to be married with a family of my own. But I truly don’t know if that’s an option for me. What scares me is that I’m tired. I’m not saying I’m ready to give up the Gospel and live an “outed” gay lifestyle, but I AM tired of fighting these feelings that I know are wrong. If I did give up the church, I would know exactly what I’m giving up and I’m not ready to do that yet. On the other hand – I’m just tired and I don’t want to fight these feelings anymore. If nothing I’ve done – and nothing God has done – has taken them away, then shouldn’t I just accept that they are a part of me and pursue that lifestyle? I ask myself that question daily. I worry that I’m even writing this as a way of giving myself permission to leave the church and be openly gay – but I don’t think that’s what this is.

I may have my doubts, but I just want to say this – while this may feel like I’m officially coming out of the homosexual closet – what I’m really doing is coming out of another type of closet - the shame closet - and saying, “this is what I struggle with.” I feel gay, even if I don’t act gay. I don’t know if there’s anybody out there dealing with the same thing. I don’t know who might be reading this or whether or not they can relate. I just know that I can’t keep living my life in secret or in shame. If I am going to learn how to love myself, then I need to be open with ALL of who I am.

Ultimately, I can’t control how anyone else will react to this, but I can say this – if this makes anyone uncomfortable – and more specifically, uncomfortable being around me – then just know that I understand. I understand if you don’t want to be friends with me. I understand if you want to stop following me on social media. I understand if you don’t want to associate with me anymore in any way. I don’t plan on changing my lifestyle anytime soon, but I also don’t plan on “hiding” this part of myself, either. In fact, I would go so far as to say, if you don’t like things I post or write about, then please do us both a favor and “unfriend” me ASAP - because neither of us needs that kind of negativity in our lives.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know what I might choose down the road, but I can’t consider that. All I have is today. Today I am making an effort to remain faithful to what I personally believe to be true – that God lives; that the Savior's Atonement provides the power to change and that neither the Savior, nor my Father in Heaven, have abandoned me. And that knowledge is as much a part of me as anything else. I am Mormon and I am gay and this is who I am.

*Note: some people use the term Same Sex Attraction (SSA) instead of SGA and they are pretty much interchangeable. In my case, I prefer the term SGA as I feel it better relates to my experience.