Unanswered Questions

I was asked to share my thoughts today in church during an Elder’s Quorum lesson about “where our choices lead.” At first, I didn’t know what to say. This is actually a very difficult question to answer for someone like me. As a gay and active member of the Church, I am constantly considering this question because I am straddling two paths – both of which would lead me to very different destinations. If I were to embrace a completely homosexual lifestyle, I would give up many of the blessings I enjoy by being an active member of the church. On the other hand, by embracing the standards of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I miss out on the possibility of a romantic/intimate companionship that all human beings need. I can’t have both.

But this post isn’t about the conflict I feel, living between two worlds. This post is not about justice, equality, or fairness – religious or otherwise. This post isn’t even about me asking “why.” I could delve into a myriad of questions I’ve had over the course of my life, not the least of which is, why have I been burdened with being gay in a hetero-family-oriented church? No, this post isn’t about all of that. This post is about living with unanswered questions.

I won’t go into detail about what I shared with the brothers in the Elders’ Quorum lesson today, mostly because I’m pretty sure I was bawling like a baby through all of it, even though it only lasted about 5 minutes. But, I do want to share one thing I said, which is the foundation of what I want to share in this post. Regarding my circumstances, as stated above, I shared this, “The Lord knows me. He knows this is hard for me. But I know there is a reason to have faith; even if I don’t know the reason yet – I know there is one.”

Essentially, I am choosing to live a faith-centered, abstinent lifestyle, without really knowing why. I have no proof that my faith will be rewarded. I have no proof that I’m making the right choice. But I am making that choice. I am choosing to abstain from a fully gay lifestyle, in order to remain a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in good standing. (I know many people in my situation have opted to leave the church and I fully support them in their decision – we all have a different path and we all deserve to be loved and accepted for who we are regardless of the path we choose.)

I guess that’s what I think faith is – moving forward when we don’t yet have all the answers. Which is, as I’ve come to realize, unbelievably ironic for me. You see, I seem to have a great deal of faith when it comes to religious/spiritual matters. But I have recently come to know that I don’t seem to have much faith anywhere else in my life.

When I look in the mirror, I hate what I see. When I look in the mirror, I see how fat I am and I hate it. I hate how it looks, I hate how it feels and I hate the burden that it creates in my life on every level – physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. I hate that I can’t physically do things I want to do; I hate that I can’t wear clothes I want to wear; I hate how self-conscious I am and every time I go out in public, I worry that people are going to laugh at me, make fun of me, or look down on me. I worry that they will think about me the way I think about myself – weak, lazy, ugly, and stupid.

I have been on a multi-year journey to fix this – to lose weight, to feel better about myself and my life. I’ve had some successes, but many, many failures and every failure gets harder and harder to get back up from. The problem, if I can oversimplify, isn’t about knowledge or opportunity – I’ve had an abundance of both. The problem is that I tried to move forward without faith. Maybe it seems ridiculous to you, but I think it takes faith to change nutrition and exercise habits. Every time I started a new diet, or a new exercise program, or hired a new trainer, I struggled to put faith into the process or the person who was coaching me. I struggled with cutting things out of my diet, restricting calories, trying new exercises, needing to modify exercises to my ability level and so on, because I didn’t really know if it was going to work or not. The outcome of changing lifestyle habits was my unanswered question – was this really going to work for me this time?

Paradoxically, there were times when I did put my faith in the process and several times it did pay off – it paid off in increased strength, flexibility, weightloss, increased energy, and so on. But then I had a set-back. Several circumstances made me question my faith in the process, so much so, that I gave up on it. I gave up on eating right; I gave up on exercise. And it took its toll. I lost the energy I had gained. I gained back the weight I had lost. I lost strength, flexibility; and probably the worst part – I lost believing in myself.

As I’ve contemplated the things I’ve lost and as I’ve pondered on the seemingly inexhaustible supply of self-loathing I experience on a daily basis, and especially in light of what I was reminded of in church today – I realize that the one  thing I’ve never had any faith in – is me. When I had faith in the process of weightloss, it worked, I did lose weight, and it felt great. But I didn’t believe that I was worth it. I didn’t have faith that I could sustain the progress I had made because I didn’t have faith in myself. And I inevitably gave up on the process of weightloss.

I have spent thousands of hours, years even, money, tears, and whatever energy I could muster to try to understand why I am the way I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bagging on therapy – I love therapy and I’m a huge advocate for it. But after so much time and energy trying to understand why, I think I’m at a place where I realize that some questions just aren’t going to be answered. I don’t know why my first, visceral reaction is to hate myself; I don’t know why I have an aversion to doing anything “hard,” or that will make me look stupid; I don’t know why a good body and self-confidence come so easily to others and not to me. I don’t know why I have to fight my own brain every single day just to function in this world, let alone improve myself. And maybe I won’t ever know. Maybe that’s what faith is – to not know, but to move forward anyway. Maybe what I have needed, more than “answers” is just to have faith that I am worth it; that I can do it; that regardless of how successful I am (I really want to lose that “last” 100 pounds!!), that I’ll be better off for even trying.

Going back to a point I wanted to make – it seems strange that I have no problem having faith in an omniscient/omnipotent being that I can’t see, hear, smell, or touch and yet I can’t have faith in the very physical, tangible experience of being me. I can’t help but ask myself, “what would having faith in myself look like?”

I literally just spent the last 10 minutes looking off into space because I don’t know how to answer that question…

I guess it would mean pursuing health and fitness without having to defend or justify myself. I would do it because it would make me happy. I think it would mean being willing to make sacrifices of junk food/binge eating because I know those things don’t really make me happy long-term. I think it would mean being willing to accept all the bad things that come with life – being willing to be in pain, to be uncomfortable, to sacrifice or go without something I may want in the moment; and knowing that life doesn’t present hardships as a punishment – it’s just a part of life and it’s okay. I think it would mean accepting that some things are just hard, and that it doesn’t mean it’s wrong, or that I’ve done something wrong.

It has been difficult to face hard things because I haven’t felt that I was worth it. I also just realized that when something gets hard, I immediately react with feelings of indignation. When I face something hard, I hear my inner voice saying, “this isn’t fair…” And you know what? It isn’t. It isn’t fair that I have to work so hard to lose weight when it comes so easily to other men. It isn’t fair that I have to sacrifice enjoyable food when other men can eat whatever they want and not gain weight. It isn’t fair that I’ve been through so much trauma, only to have to work even harder at changing my thoughts/beliefs as a result. It isn’t fair that I have to deal with the fallout of things that happened to me, that I didn’t cause, that I didn’t want and that I never would have chosen. It isn’t fair that I have to suffer the consequences of other people’s bad choices/behavior. Yes, I know that makes me sound like a brat – and maybe that’s all I’ve ever been. But I’ve avoided and I’ve retreated and I’ve hid myself away because I just can’t face dealing with hard things when it wasn’t my fault to begin with. Well that also sounds like a victim talking…

Okay, so it isn’t fair. I am absolutely, 100% right – it’s not fair.

Now what?

Where does “it’s not fair” actually get me? Nowhere!!

Focusing on “it’s not fair” just leaves me stuck. I don’t have the answer, but maybe, just maybe, one way to get past “it’s not fair” is to realize that what it is, is an opportunity.

No, I didn’t want to be molested. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to forgive. No, I didn’t want to be morbidly obese. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to learn to appreciate the body God has given me. No, I didn’t want to live my life hating myself because other people hurt me. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to triumph in the face of adversity.

Maybe what “isn’t fair” is also an opportunity for faith. I think having faith in myself is trusting that what I want is okay to want; that I am worth achieving and maintaining improved health and fitness; that it’s okay that the process will be hard at times, but that the outcome will be worth it.

I think having faith in myself will mean doing the hardest thing possible: accept myself for who I am, the way I am, fat and all.

I have gotten used to beating myself up and I have gotten used to misery. I think it will be just as hard to admit that I’m okay, as it will be to accept that I’m okay. I have never allowed myself to be truly happy. I thought I needed to change, to achieve an ideal body/success, in order to matter, in order to be happy. So I’ve never allowed myself to really be happy. I was afraid that if I was happy then something bad would happen to “balance it out.” I was afraid that being happy meant I was being selfish. I was afraid that being happy meant taking happiness away from others, because there’s only so much to go around. I was afraid that being happy meant that I couldn’t change my circumstances, that I had to give up my dreams of improving myself physically or otherwise, because if I’m happy, then what else do I need?

It’s just occurred to me that I don’t think of happiness as an outcome of choices I make (i.e., a side effect); I think of happiness as THE destination – the whole end goal. Once you’re happy, that’s it – you’ve made it. You’re happy and there’s nothing else to want or do because you don’t need anything because you’re happy.

But what if happiness is NOT a final destination? What if happiness is NOT an end, in and of itself?

What if happiness is like a jacket. You aren’t meant to wear jackets all the time, but for some kinds of weather it’s the perfect comfort. In that way, maybe fulfillment doesn’t come FROM simply “being happy,” but maybe fulfillment comes from growth and achievement, and happiness just sometimes comes along for the ride…?

Well this post just kind of went everywhere, didn’t it? Sorry if it’s been all over the place. I didn’t realize until I started typing this that the concept of happiness was such a contributing factor to my lack of self-worth.

Ultimately, I don’t know what will come from all of the realizations I’ve had today. I still have so many unanswered questions. But I suppose that was really the whole point of this post in the first place: Faith is just living life with unanswered questions – and unanswered questions are no reason to stop living.

You're okay, you just don't know it yet...

Well this topic has been a long time coming. Literally. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for over a year. It’s something that I’ve wanted to write down, but just couldn’t and I didn’t really know why. I believe what I’m about to explain was given to me – inspired, I want to say, hopefully without sounding presumptuous.

But look, this is hard for me to say. It has to do with identity. It should be the most freeing thing in the world to say, “I am ______,” whatever; fill in the blank. But for me it’s not that easy.

I come from a very black and white world (i.e., shame-based), where you’re either good or bad; good enough or worthless, etc. In that world, I wasn’t good enough, so I presented a “false” me. The one who was “good enough;” obedient, calm, helpful to others; the one who was happy all the time; got along with everyone – a peacemaker, even; never really had any serious problems; jack of all trades, master of none; etc. Hard to find any downsides to those qualities, right? Maybe not overtly, but subtly, the downside is this: it was just an act. It wasn’t truly who I was. Everything I did, I did out of fear of being evaluated, then judged “unacceptable,” while secretly punishing the real me for NEEDING a façade. The only way I could ever complete the sentence, “I am ______,” was by saying “I am a worthless fraud.” THAT was my identity.

You can’t go through life presenting a false self to the world and expect to be accepted for who you are, let alone happy.

So I’ve spent a significant amount of energy diving into the shades of gray of being me and trying to sort out what I believe about who I am. Which shifted my belief from, “I am a fraud,” to “I am a mess!” (Hey, progress is progress!) Joking aside, though, so much of my identity has been caught up in being the victim. Wow, what a trap to be in! It feels justified in its innocence, as in, “I was innocent, I didn’t cause this trauma, it wasn’t my fault,” etc. But in order to be justified in innocence, you also have to be powerless, because a powerful person wouldn’t have let themselves be victimized (some flawed thinking here, but keep in mind that being hurt as a child doesn’t allow for logical/mature thinking). This is referred to as Locus of Control. Someone who has an External Locus of Control believes that everything that happens in life has a cause that is external to them, such as luck, time, circumstance, etc. This meshes really well with a victim mindset – everything that happens is outside my control; versus an Internal Locus of Control where the person views themselves as being in control of their own life.

I have rarely felt in control of my own life. That includes my identity – how I see myself. I have straddled the line between discovering who I am and creating who I am. And it’s the creation of who I am that I have a hard time with. “What if I fail to maintain that identity?” I ask myself. “What if I say, ‘I am – whatever’ and then find that I’m not?” For example, what if I say, “I’m a writer,” but then fail to be successful as a writer? That word “fail” is hard to get around.

I’m trying create some context for you to understand why what I’m about to share is so hard to say. There is so much fear in just trying to be me, when being me for so long just wasn’t good enough. I also know that I’m stalling. I don’t want to type it. I don’t want to say it out loud. Once I hit “publish” on this post, it’s out there. I don’t want to admit it because it means a monumental shift MUST take place accordingly. It means I must change how I think, how I feel, how I see myself, how I define myself, how I think of myself, how I present myself, how I interact with the world. It means I can never go back to being who I was. It means the death of the false self (who protected me for so long!) and the emergence of the real me…

Enough stalling.

Here it is:


I am okay.


Wow, that was hard! Can you just let that sink in for a minute? For me, the fear and doubt immediately come creeping in. “But what if I say I’m okay only to find that I’m not? What if I say I’m okay and then everyone expects me to be okay, but what if I’m really not? What if I just lied to myself? What if I can’t keep being okay? What if the real me really isn’t good enough?”

You know, one of the major problems with trauma and victimhood is that it creates an internal rule – I am not okay. (Variations are: I can’t be okay, I never will be okay, I don’t deserve to be okay, I’m not worth being okay, etc.) This rule is formed at such a young age that it seems immutable. Set in stone. Just the way things are.

You may not believe this, but I’m kind of lightheaded all of a sudden and feel inexplicably tired. I know this feeling. It’s resistance. It’s the struggle within myself that is taking so much energy that I want to shut down.

But I can’t.

I mustn’t.

I won’t.

“Come on, Micah, fight it!” I can hear a voice within me saying. “Keep going.” And now I’m nauseous. My brain is – foggy; I’m having a hard time concentrating. I just keep typing because I know I can’t stop. It feels like someone has invisible magnets all around me and I can feel the magnetic pull shifting in different directions, but I can’t see anything. [Is this what the moon feels like?! Oh crap, and now the lame jokes have started, that’s not a good sign…]

Okay, I just took a drink and some deep breaths.

Being okay is scary. It’s not at all familiar. It’s a paradox. Being okay actually means you can mess up, once in a while. Because even when you mess up, you’re still okay. Even when you make a mistake, you’re still okay. Even when you look stupid (especially looking stupid trying something new for the first time), you’re still okay. What a foreign concept for me!!

The message I received a year ago was really this: “Micah, you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

It was true. I received it, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to “be okay” in light of everything I’ve been through. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve prayed and asked Heavenly Father to tell me how to be okay with the things I’m not okay with! I’m not okay with being fat, yet I’m I supposed to be okay with myself that way? Not a chance!

But here I am. Letting whoever is reading this know – I’m okay.

I trust the Lord’s timing, but I wish I had been told this from the very beginning.

When I almost died at birth: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was sexually traumatized: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was neglected and criticized: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was rejected socially for being too fat: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was lonely and scared: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was suicidal: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

I have always been okay, I just didn’t know it. I’m laughing and crying at the same time.

As much as I’ve needed this message – and continue to need it – I also want to share it with you. I don’t know who’s reading this. I don’t know what you’re going through in your life. Maybe things are great, and if so, I’m genuinely glad. Or maybe you’re just having a hard time with something and don’t know how to let anyone know. To you I want to say - you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

I’m sorry for whatever hardship or trial you might be going through. Maybe you feel weighed down and hopeless, maybe you feel helpless and like a victim! Maybe you feel lonely and afraid. I promise you – you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet. It’s hard to wait for the sun when you’re in the middle of a storm, but I want you to know – you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

This is my first post of the year. I felt like this was the message that needed to be out there right now. May it guide all that I accomplish this year, but more than that, I hope this phrase will come to you IN THOSE MOMENTS when you feel afraid; when you feel out of your comfort zone; when you attempt to improve your life and encounter setbacks; when you experience uncertainty, doubt, and fear; when you’re doing all the right things, but challenges overwhelm you; when you’re feeling lonely and forgotten; I pray you’ll remember what I absolutely know in my heart is true:

You’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

All that I have to be thankful for!

With all of the emotional turmoil I’ve been through the last few weeks, I made sure I took some time today (Happy Thanksgiving!) to do my best to put all of that aside and reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. Here’s my list:

I am thankful to be alive

I was born with inadequate oxygen and almost died at birth. My mom says I was black and blue and they had to rush me to an incubator to get me breathing. My entry into this world was traumatic and, looking back, it seems like the fear that accompanied my birth has remained with me throughout my life. Yes, I’ve been through some difficult experiences, but I made it. I survived that difficult beginning. And I’ve survived many other traumatic experiences since. I’m still here and I’m truly thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who has helped me through all of it.

I am thankful for my body

This is a tough one for me. I have very mixed feelings about my body. “Body Dissociation” is a very common symptom of people who have been sexually victimized. In essence, because my body was violated, my body became an object to be despised; something that was violated, abused and untrustworthy – a place where I was no longer safe. So I disconnected. I saw my body as something that was detestable and worthless. Consequently, I didn’t treat my body well because I didn’t see it as anything worthy of caring for. I didn’t listen to my body. I inflicted self punishments in negative self-talk, addictions of various kinds, and in general treated myself with contempt. I was trying to punish my body for being weak, for being violated. It may not make logical sense, but a six year old doesn’t have sufficient logic skills to process that kind of trauma.

Fast forward to today. I have come to realize that I can’t be healthy in an unhealthy body. I have come to realize that the shame I feel over what happened to me should really be the shame of the people who perpetrated the crime, not me. I am in the process of regaining the innocence of my inner child, who was wounded and never left that state of being. Basically, I’m learning not to be ashamed of what happened to me, because it wasn’t my fault. That also means reconnecting with my body. It means learning to listen to it and learning to treat it with respect through exercise and proper nutrition. Yes, I am in terrible shape, but that is the result of years of (self) neglect and abuse. It will take me time to challenge my old beliefs and thought patterns. It will take time to get into the shape I want to be in, but I am SO thankful that I have this opportunity to change. I am so grateful to have a body that is capable of change and improvement. I am so fortunate to have a body that can move, taste, touch, see, smell, hear and feel.

I’m thankful for my family

I seem to have a really good ability to criticize my family and point out their flaws – clearly a defensive, or “victim” mentality. But that’s not an accurate picture of who they really are. I don’t think I could adequately sum up how incredible each of them are – or what they mean to me in one post. The truth is, they have been far more patient with me and understanding than I deserve. I’ve done my share of hurtful things, for which I sincerely beg their forgiveness. Briefly, I would like to share just a few things that I love about each of them:

Mishka – the Compassionate

Mishka has a very caring heart and protective of the underdog. She cares about how others are feeling and desires to lift the burdens of others (at least until M&M’s get involved!! You know what I’m talking about Mish!! J). Too many times to count she’s offered support and encouragement and helped me feel like I’m not so alone.

Rebecca – the Noble

Rebecca has been a great supporter of mine, even when I haven’t really deserved it. She’s been a great example of perseverance and dedication – of meeting challenges head on and overcoming them with patience. She carries herself with pride and I love her resilience. I wish I were more like her in that respect. She is a great sounding board and I know her advice is always sound, well thought out and has my best interest at heart.

Mom (Tina) – the Generous

Mom is, without a doubt, one of the most generous – if not, THE most generous person I know. She is always willing to sacrifice for the benefit of others, sometimes at great cost to herself. She has a great attitude towards giving – always giving thanks to Heavenly Father for all that he has blessed her with. She is a great example of selfless giving and I know her riches in heaven will be abundant!

Dad (Bob) – the Benevolent

I really don’t know a kinder man than my dad. I can’t stress how grateful I am for his patience with me. I am eternally grateful that he did not anger easily. Even when he was angry (which was RARE!) he never raised his voice and he never acted violently. He was a peacemaker in our home and I love him for that. In my mid-twenties I had some very significant problems, for which I received some intensive treatment. He supported me through what was truly hell for me in ways I can’t begin express and any attempt I made to honor him would be woefully inadequate. He is one of my heroes.

I am thankful for adversity

This may sound ironic, after my last post. But adversity and the lessons I have learned have blessed my life immeasurably. I have developed and strengthened my testimony in ways that I would not have accomplished otherwise. I recall one time I was seeing a counselor and I had expressed dissatisfaction with the presence of a challenge in my life. She shared her opinion on the matter (she was very supportive and had only the intent of comforting me) and suggested, in loving kindness, that I accept it – even though it was contrary to my religious beliefs. In that moment I realized that the challenge had a purpose. I was able to bear my testimony to her about why I felt as I did and I know she was deeply touched by what I said. I know, historically, I have expressed hatred of my trials and how I would rather not have them. But I’ve learned something – these trials are how I will come to know the Savior. I am deeply grateful for that. Which leads me to my last item.

I am thankful for my Heavenly Father and Savior

Heavenly Father has always been the father I needed, not always the father I wanted. With my limited perspective of life, with all my lack of wisdom and lack of experience, and with my severely limited understanding – I don’t always ask for the right things and I don’t always know what’s in my best interest – but he always does. He answers “Yes” when I need to hear “Yes;” “No,” when I need to hear “No;” and He is silent when it’s in my best interest. I often confuse silence with absence and I have since learned that is not the case. Just because He is silent, doesn’t mean He isn’t there, or interested in me. I know now that He wants me to be happy, but how we obtain happiness is still a lesson I am learning. So often I think of obtaining happiness as being given what I need – when I need it – and that is SO NOT the case!! Happiness comes from strength and strength comes from being tested by adversity. There is no strength in a lack of opposition. It’s precisely the opposition that develops strength, which generates happiness.

I’ll be honest - the Savior is not someone I know well. I haven’t been as committed to Him as I could be. I haven’t made Him a priority in my life, as I could have. The reason’s are as varied as my past experiences and rooted in faulty core beliefs, feeling neglected, defensive, prideful, etc. I haven’t truly appreciated the atonement for one main reason – I never believed I was worthy of it. I was angry that he suffered and died for all men’s sins when I felt like I didn’t deserve to benefit from that gift. In essence, I had a testimony that the Savior was able to save all mankind, except me. Or, in other words, I had a testimony that He is THE Savior, just not MY Savior. That is changing, but I have a long way to go. In the meantime, I am thankful that He is so patient with me. I am humbled to know that He loves me, especially in those times when I push Him away because I don’t think I deserve His love.

So that's my (short!) list. I have so much to be thankful for! I am so glad that I took the time to look back over all my gifts and to see that, even the hard things, are helping me to become better and ultimately, helping me to be closer to my Savior and Father in Heaven and I am eternally grateful for that!