Child of God

"We should not underestimate or overlook the power of the Lord's tender mercies.  The simpleness, the sweetness, and the constancy of the tender mercies of the Lord will do much to fortify and protect us in the troubled times in which we do now and will yet live.  When words cannot provide the solace we need or express the joy we feel, when it is simply futile to attempt to explain that which is unexplainable, when logic and reason cannot yield adequate understanding about the injustices and inequeites of life, when mortal experience and evaluation are insufficient to produce a desired outcome, and when it seems that perhaps we are so totally alone, truly we are blessed by the tender mercies of the Lord and made mighty even unto the power of deliverance.  Some individuals who hear or read this message may discount or dismiss in their personal lives the availability of the tender mercies of the Lord.  We may falsely think such blessings are reserved for other people who appear to be more righteous or who serve in visible Church callings.  I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are available to all of us and that the Redeemer of Israel is eager to bestow such gifts upon us." -David A. Bednar
Sometimes I wonder why I still claim to be a Mormon.  Sometimes it really hurts given my sexual orientation.  Sometimes I don't want to go to church anymore.  That's a thing.
But sometimes something beautiful like this is said, and I realize the reason that I hold onto the Mormon church is because I've been taught something there that resonates with me.  There's this fundamental truth in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints that we are children of God.  God is literally our father, and as such, he loves us.  Maybe I love that so much because I'm arrogant and I love the fact that some all-powerful being is looking over me and has a personal interest in my life.  Maybe I love that idea because I'm so incredibly insecure, and it's comforting to know that even though sometimes I look at my life and realize that it is a complete and total mess, there's a God above who still loves me.
Whatever it is about that knowledge it's a powerful influence in my life.  I will forever be thankful for that belief that is a part of my character now.  No matter where my life takes me from here, I am and will forever be thankful for the belief that I am a son of God.

Love Yourself Loudly

"When he decides he doesn't love you, move on quietly and love yourself loudly."
This quote showed up on my Tumblr recently, and (in as cliched a way as I can say this) it really spoke to my soul.  Almost a month ago I went through a breakup with a guy I saw a future with, and it hurt.  I got really melodramatic about it, to the point where my boss walked in on me lying on the floor of my custodial closet listening to Sara Barielles and sobbing.  My boss was nice about it, because generally I'm a pretty good employee, but it was not my finest moment.
For several weeks after the breakup I kept trying to make myself a part of his life.  He told me he still wanted to be friends, and I wanted to do everything I could to be friends with him.  I wanted to do everything I could to make sure that someday he would take me back, and we would have that future together that I wanted so badly.
That life doesn't work for me though.  Breaking up sucks.  Losing a future that looked REALLY good sucks.  Getting found by your boss in the fetal position staring at an iPhone screen while Sara Barielles warbles about a former lover keeping Manhattan sucks.  But it sucks worse sitting on a couch with a man who has been physically closer to you than any other human in your life and realizing that the two of you will never be that close again.  It sucks worse having someone who used to look at you with that cheesy chick-flick face (the one where the guy realizes he loves the girl, and the audience all sighs, you know the one) not even be able to meet your eyes.
So I decided to move on quietly.  Walk away. Put the phone down.  Go out with my friends.  Go to concerts. Go on roadtrips. Make new friends.  Reconnect with old friends.  And in the moving on quietly I learned something incredible.
I learned that I am resilient. I can come back from being the broken heap on a custodial closet floor and stand up and be the man dancing around at a Jason Mraz concert.  I can be the man who is there when his friends break down with ice cream in hand and a shoulder to cry on.  I can be the man who gets lost in a good book, and at the end feels a sense of total catharsis with the world.  It's beautiful. And when I learned that I am this man, I learned what it means to love myself loudly.

If you want my opinion (and you're reading my blog, so I assume you do), the hardest part about being a gay Mormon is dating.  First of all, let's talk about finding someone to date.  There are ways, I've heard of Tinder and Grindr, although I will never use them, and I know social groups exist to help gay people meet, but it can be hard to find someone, but even so, the dating pool is smaller than the straight dating pool.

Then let's say you actually do find someone, now you have to go through the checklist: Are you attracted to each other? Are you compatible? Do you have similar feelings about dating, marriage, and sex?  Are you both comfortable with people knowing you're in a relationship?  Can you communicate? Are there complications that will eventually get in the way of the relationship? There are a lot of very different opinions and very different individuals who are all swirled together in the LGBT community.

I don't want to sound depressing, because I believe in love.  I have this (possibly crazy) belief that two people can find each other, and can make it work, but it takes a ton of communication, and a huge amount of honesty and humility.

I haven't found it yet, but I keep having this hope wake up inside of me that someday I will.

Names

In class the other day, we sat in a circle and discussed an essay that one of my classmates wrote.  She's a quiet girl, she sits on the opposite side of the class, and I literally had never noticed her until I read her essay.  It was a beautifully realistic piece on the feelings that come when you end up having some spiritual dissonance happening in your life. She wrote about doubts she had about the Mormon (oops, I meant LDS faith)  I basically devoured it, and wrote a little love letter at the bottom of her essay, where I may or may not have included the words "You go Glen Coco" twice...
But then I forgot that we're in Utah... Silly me.
There were a few other students who were offended by the fact that she chose to use the word "Mormon" rather than "LDS." The rest of the class period was lost on a debate about the name of the religion, rather than a useful constructive discussion of a fellow student's essay.
I left the class fuming, which is rare for me.  I still don't know exactly why, except that I have this streak of empathy for the little guy who has to challenge common-held beliefs. I guess what made me so angry is that someone in the majority can get offended by a minority voice, but never takes the time to worry that they ever hurt anyone in the minority.

Oh Honey... I'm Gay

My mom wasn't shocked when I told her I was gay.  That doesn't mean that she didn't try and argue to prove that I wasn't gay, but she wasn't surprised.  Her number one argument was this, "But Shaun, there are so many girls who are in love with you."

This was a valid response.  I was quite popular with the ladies in middle school... and high school... and college... and basically throughout my entire life. One of the unfortunate side effects of being in the closet is that some people don't have exceptional gaydar, so they're blissfully unaware of the fact that their feminine charms are rather ineffective.

Here's the thing, I'm a nice guy.  At least, I like to think I am.  I can listen pretty well, and I try to be as loyal as people will let me be.  I like to think that I'm the perfect GBF. I'll gossip, I'll watch the chick flicks, and get just as into them as any female.  My problem is, when it comes to people I meet at church, I "forget" to mention the tiny little fact that I'm gay.  It's not like it's something that you want to bring up in the first conversation with everyone you ever meet.

Friendly girl at church: "Hi, my name is Tabitha,"

Me: "Oh hi, I'm gay... Oh, I mean Shaun."

See, it just doesn't work.  My problem, is I go to church to worship God. I'm not on the prowl to find a wife. I'm literally never on the prowl for a wife.  Girl's sense this and get excited, because I'm not one of those guys.  I don't feel the need to reference missionary leadership positions I held or use any other cheap ploy to attract a mate, because most LDS wards don't have a lot of gay men who are going to church and looking for a partner.  It just doesn't work that way...

Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that sometimes I'm a jerk, and I accidentally lead people on. Sorry ladies.

Lessons Learned

Background: Had my first real break-up. I feel like anything I write will be cliche, and won't actually adequately express anything. So instead I wanted to write a list of things I learned.

*It's okay to feel what you feel.  It sounds cliche (this is awkward, because I wanted to avoid cliche) and after-school-specialy (I made that word up), but it's true.  Understand that what you feel is valid.

*Some writing isn't meant for other humans to read.  Write it anyway.  Put it on the page, and give yourself the chance to see your soul.

*Love can hurt like hell.  It smarts, it stings, it bites, it gnaws away at you, but somehow it's worth it.

*Don't lose yourself in the discovery of someone to love.  Have your own life, have your own space, be a complete human.

*If it hurts, it's because it mattered.  He was my first kiss, he was the first person I saw a real future with.  It hurts.  

*Don't let the fear of getting hurt keep you away from something that you believe will make you happy. Yeah, I hurt, but I wouldn't trade away the time that we had together.

*Communication is so important. That's all.

*Surround yourself with good people.  Sometimes we forget that life is beautiful, but good friends can bring that beauty back.

A Good Bishop

I want to spend some time talking about my ward (that's my local congregation).  I need to start by saying a couple of things.  First, I am incredibly lucky to be in this ward.  Second, I can't accurately describe it, but I'm going to try.  The reason I want to explain it, is just because I feel like there are some really good things going on this ward, and I hope people can learn from it.

My ward has a large number of people who are pretty understanding about homosexuality.  When our bishop was first called to our ward I was the first person to approach him and talk about my sexual identity.  He took it under his wing, and gave me all sorts of counsel that he felt like would help me 'fix' the issue.  Although that bothered me, there was never judgment, just encouragement, and when I decided to stop going to church the entirety of fall semester, he never chased me down, he just gave me my space, and trusted me to make decisions for myself.  I'm thankful for that.  

I think one thing that's helped him figure things out is that there are a total of eleven gay men in my ward.  You read that right, there are eleven of us.  After I went to him, and then dropped off the face of the earth, he got the chance to try to help a parade of gay men following me.  I kind of feel sorry for the guy, but I feel like if anything will change it will come as more of us band together and speak out about homosexuality.  

That wasn't a super deep description of the ward, but I'll probably describe how different people have responded in later blog posts.

In summary, I wanted to make a list of things that my bishop did that helped me personally.  He gave me the chance to talk about the issue, and offered to help in whatever way he could. There was no judgment when I said that I was gay, there was no heavy sigh, no wide-eyed look of shock, he just took it.  I appreciated that.  He asked questions. He wanted to know where I stood, what I believed, why I believed what I believed, and how he could help me.  The fact that he spent time being genuinely interested in me, my mind, and my heart, helped me develop a trust in him as a bishop.

The second major thing that he did was leave me alone.  When I decided to stop coming to church, he didn't show up at my house to talk it out.  He never sent the Elders' Quorum President after me.  I was never a referral that he handed out to the missionaries.  I was never assigned the power combo hometeachers. I was left alone, and I appreciate that, because any push to get me back to church would have pushed me further away from the church.  This needed to be my own journey, and he was smart enough to leave it to me to take that journey alone.