I hate driving past Christian billboards. I hate seeing churches. And I can't stand those little wooden crosses around town with the words "Only Jesus Saves" spelled out on them.
My old Christian self would love them. But now they are just painful reminders of bad times.
Long before I knew I was bisexual, I knew I was not a good enough Christian. And that I would never be, no matter what I did. No matter how hard I tried.
And by "good enough," I don't mean perfect. I just mean good enough.
I always knew, deep down, that I secretly wanted to rebel, to just be free of all these rules and fears about whether that book, song, or movie was bad or good, or the constant obsession over controlling my very thoughts.
People say that atheists and non-Christians just want to sin. And that's not true. I just want to relax and be happy. I just want to enjoy my life. I just want to worry only about whether my actions hurt others or not. (And people say, "Why have morality, when you don't have God?" And to that I say, "Why NOT have morality?!" Society and life in general is so much better with it, don't you think? And isn't that reason enough? It should be.)
I once heard a pastor ask, "Can you even take one breath without sinning?" And I felt like I couldn't. I was walking, breathing, living sin. And this was when I was trying so hard to be a good Christian, that I couldn't sleep at night because I was too afraid of the thoughts I would think if I let go and relaxed. I could be literally lying there and doing nothing, and still sinning. I could literally be drifting off to sleep, and have to rouse myself to beg for forgiveness.
The prayer and bible study were bad enough, but they were nothing compared to the constant mind-prayer and self-policing of my thoughts. Reading the bible was a chore I got tired of, and felt bad about. But the prayer never really stopped. Imaging an introvert trying to constantly maintain a one-sided conversation. It could drive one insane.
I begged God constantly to help me do better. And when I felt like I was finally doing good enough, I wondered why I couldn't maintain that all the time, and the thought of trying exhausted me. I hated my life.
I even felt guilty for feeling guilty. Supposedly God was enough, and I had to be easy on myself because I could never be perfect. But then Christian leaders would talk out both sides of their mouths, as they had a minimum standard you had to meet, if you really loved God. Prayer, bible study, and thought-policing--the basic, bare minimum Christian level--even that was enormously difficult for me to maintain! And that was without going to church. I knew I "should," but could never find a good one, or the thought of it would be exhausting and stressful.
I begged God to show me he was real, so that I could continue to believe in him. And in spite of that, I sensed my grip on my own Christianity slowly slipping away. It seemed so cruel, when I would supposedly go to hell for not believing, and God was not making it possible for me to believe. (I could no longer "make" myself believe, or make myself act like I did, go through the motions hoping that it would "catch" and come naturally to me once more.) God was sending me to hell on purpose, and I was livid.
Now I hardly think about these things. But my thirteen-year-old self is still a part of me, and so I find myself still constantly wondering if I'm doing something wrong. At my new job especially, my first professional job as a tax preparer, I've discovered that I'm still feeling like I'm constantly sinning, only now I'm replacing sinning with "messing up someone's taxes," and God with my boss. But somehow, the consequences still feel eternal!
The thing about being a Christian is, someone is always judging you. And I don't mean the ultimate Someone, although that is always used against you--I mean there's always someone here on earth that tells you you're doing something wrong. If you wear pants as a girl, someone will call your salvation into question just because you're not wearing an ankle-length skirt. And I never wore ankle-length skirts, or any skirts, because they were always associated in my mind with particularly cult-like elements. I was judging those elements, and I still do, because...well, they're cults. Their female members especially have to give up so much of what makes them their own unique persons, just to be good enough for God. And their husbands.
And this, what one wears, is just one example in a sea of debates that about things so small, but that are all made to be larger than life. Is this movie, that book, this song--is it worldly or demonic? How can one tel? It's either, "Don't be so worldly!" or "Don't be so legalistic!"
And I didn't know which one to tell myself.
I have trouble deciding what exactly to call myself with my own sexuality, and I also have trouble when it comes to religion. All I know is that I'm not straight, and I'm not evangelical. And I'm never going to try to be either one ever again. I want to be happy.
It's like I knew all along, deep down, that if I let up on myself even for one minute, I was going to mentally bolt for freedom, make a mad dash away from Christianity and choose happiness over God. And as much as I tried to deny it, I knew that that was my only choice. That I couldn't have both.
Now I do what I want, and then feel guilty about it. But it's better than it was, for a long time. And the more I'm aware of my guilt, the better I feel, and the easier I am on myself.
Someday, I hope it will be even better.
The thing about religion is, everything that feels good is wrong. Masturbation is wrong, because it feels good, and you can only feel that good with the church's authorization. Music that you can actually dance to is wrong, because again, it makes your body feel good, without God or religion. Even thinking rebellious thoughts, even dreaming of freedom, is wrong. And anything that feels too good and brings too much pleasure is an idol. Even if you would otherwise be allowed to do it. If it feels good, it's wrong.
I got free. And I hope everyone eventually gets free. But the work comes in dismantling or escaping the prison inside your own mind. And sometimes it's hard to even know it's there. But acknowledging and seeing the bars makes it easier to stop banging against them, and try to go around them.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
LGBT: Which Is Harder--Coming Out, Or Getting Your Driver's License?
Years ago, I did not have my driver's license, and I wanted nothing more in the world than to have it. I just wanted to be done with the driving tests, for the rest of my life, hopefully. The thought of trying to get it terrified me. But I knew I could not be happy until I was at least trying to get it.
I finally realized that I could do the driving test, and secretly think of it as a "practice" test. I was just practicing. It didn't take away my panic, but it was something. It was something, at least.
Now I feel the same way about coming out to my mother's family. I can't be happy until I do. At least, I can't be completely happy. And I also can't be completely happy until I tell the uncle who emotionally abused me as child, that what he did affected me. This is what I obsess over now. And no matter what my mother says, I can't stop. I think about it every day, and I feel miserable until there is some kind of plan of action.
My anxiety prevented me from getting my license for a long time. But there are more factors than my anxiety that complicate my plans here.
One is that my mom has mixed feelings about me coming out, and I feel like I need her support.
Another factor is that I don't know how my grandfather will take it. But I sometimes feel like I will grieve him no matter what I do--that even though he is always so happy to see me, that he secretly worries and obsesses over my salvation because I don't go to church. I feel like I'll never be Christian enough for him.
So why not just come out?
Another factor that keeps me up at night is that I don't know exactly how to say that I'm not straight. I use "gay" in my everyday life to refer to all but the "TQ" in "LGBTQ," basically, but other people think of it differently. I suppose I am technically bisexual, but I don't like the term bisexual, because it implies that I can just marry a man and be happy, even though I would feel that I was missing out on at least kissing another woman or two. And I don't like the term lesbian/gay, because that implies that I don't like men at all. So I use "gay," even though it's an umbrella term in my mind. It makes it easier, especially, when my own sexuality is so unpredictable even to me.
But how to explain all of this, when my uncle especially will probably just assume whatever he wants? And I don't want to get into these complicated explanations with them, anyway. They wouldn't understand, and might use it to say that I'm really straight, which I know isn't true.
So do I say gay, or bisexual? Gay would imply that it's not a choice, which it isn't (being bisexual/not straight), at least for me. But bisexual might give my grandfather hope that I'll marry a man, which could ease his transition into accepting my non-straightness. Would bisexual give them "permission" to deny my gay side? It is just as important as my straight side, and I don't want them to refuse to see the real me. As much as this makes my uncle right about LGBTQ people...do I have to "flaunt it" until they get the message? :)
And if my grandfather has a good enough memory, I am out to him. He once used the word "husband" to talk about my future, and I replied using the phrase "husband or wife." Boy, was he shocked! "You need a husband, not a wife, baby," he said. I let it go at that, for now. Perhaps I'll use that phrase again sometime. Perhaps I won't. I have to play it by ear whenever I see my family.
And finally, there is the fact that there are so many ways to come out, and I have no idea which one would be best. I have no idea what I want my coming out story to be. If this is the story I will tell for the rest of my life, if the occasion arises, what kind of story do I want to tell? I really don't know. Not at this point.
It feels good to admit that I obsess over this. I obsess over both coming out, and "coming out" as affected by my uncle's mistreatment. Sometimes they both seem equally daunting, and other times, the emotional abuse seems harder to bring up or acknowledge. But I know I won't truly be happy until I do both.
I feel like I shouldn't obsess over this unless I'm going to do it tomorrow. And that's exactly how I felt about my license. But the thing about obsessing is, I can't stop doing it. So maybe I should just acknowledge that I do it, and embrace the obsession rather than fighting it. If I had done that before, would it have been easier to get my driver's license? I guess I'll never know.
I keep trying to think of ways to drop my gayness into conversation, but it seems impossible. I am still getting used to talking and joking about my bisexuality with my completely supportive mother. When my first instinct is to hide it, not talk about it, rarely mention it--then how much of mentioning it is natural, and how much is forced into the conversation? I have no idea, so I just keep trying to be natural, trying to get more comfortable being more of myself. My voice still strains or cracks a little when mentioning my bisexuality "casually," so I have to practice.
And this is with my mom who says affectionately that I'm her favorite fruit. So I guess I've got to practice more.
I obsess, but it scares me. Just like with my license.
And even though coming out casually would be ideal for me, I don't know if that's possible. And I don't really know what the solution here is--not yet. But talking about my obsession really helps me feel better about it. Maybe I should just focus on accepting myself as obsessed, rather than trying to change.
I finally realized that I could do the driving test, and secretly think of it as a "practice" test. I was just practicing. It didn't take away my panic, but it was something. It was something, at least.
Now I feel the same way about coming out to my mother's family. I can't be happy until I do. At least, I can't be completely happy. And I also can't be completely happy until I tell the uncle who emotionally abused me as child, that what he did affected me. This is what I obsess over now. And no matter what my mother says, I can't stop. I think about it every day, and I feel miserable until there is some kind of plan of action.
My anxiety prevented me from getting my license for a long time. But there are more factors than my anxiety that complicate my plans here.
One is that my mom has mixed feelings about me coming out, and I feel like I need her support.
Another factor is that I don't know how my grandfather will take it. But I sometimes feel like I will grieve him no matter what I do--that even though he is always so happy to see me, that he secretly worries and obsesses over my salvation because I don't go to church. I feel like I'll never be Christian enough for him.
So why not just come out?
Another factor that keeps me up at night is that I don't know exactly how to say that I'm not straight. I use "gay" in my everyday life to refer to all but the "TQ" in "LGBTQ," basically, but other people think of it differently. I suppose I am technically bisexual, but I don't like the term bisexual, because it implies that I can just marry a man and be happy, even though I would feel that I was missing out on at least kissing another woman or two. And I don't like the term lesbian/gay, because that implies that I don't like men at all. So I use "gay," even though it's an umbrella term in my mind. It makes it easier, especially, when my own sexuality is so unpredictable even to me.
But how to explain all of this, when my uncle especially will probably just assume whatever he wants? And I don't want to get into these complicated explanations with them, anyway. They wouldn't understand, and might use it to say that I'm really straight, which I know isn't true.
So do I say gay, or bisexual? Gay would imply that it's not a choice, which it isn't (being bisexual/not straight), at least for me. But bisexual might give my grandfather hope that I'll marry a man, which could ease his transition into accepting my non-straightness. Would bisexual give them "permission" to deny my gay side? It is just as important as my straight side, and I don't want them to refuse to see the real me. As much as this makes my uncle right about LGBTQ people...do I have to "flaunt it" until they get the message? :)
And if my grandfather has a good enough memory, I am out to him. He once used the word "husband" to talk about my future, and I replied using the phrase "husband or wife." Boy, was he shocked! "You need a husband, not a wife, baby," he said. I let it go at that, for now. Perhaps I'll use that phrase again sometime. Perhaps I won't. I have to play it by ear whenever I see my family.
And finally, there is the fact that there are so many ways to come out, and I have no idea which one would be best. I have no idea what I want my coming out story to be. If this is the story I will tell for the rest of my life, if the occasion arises, what kind of story do I want to tell? I really don't know. Not at this point.
It feels good to admit that I obsess over this. I obsess over both coming out, and "coming out" as affected by my uncle's mistreatment. Sometimes they both seem equally daunting, and other times, the emotional abuse seems harder to bring up or acknowledge. But I know I won't truly be happy until I do both.
I feel like I shouldn't obsess over this unless I'm going to do it tomorrow. And that's exactly how I felt about my license. But the thing about obsessing is, I can't stop doing it. So maybe I should just acknowledge that I do it, and embrace the obsession rather than fighting it. If I had done that before, would it have been easier to get my driver's license? I guess I'll never know.
I keep trying to think of ways to drop my gayness into conversation, but it seems impossible. I am still getting used to talking and joking about my bisexuality with my completely supportive mother. When my first instinct is to hide it, not talk about it, rarely mention it--then how much of mentioning it is natural, and how much is forced into the conversation? I have no idea, so I just keep trying to be natural, trying to get more comfortable being more of myself. My voice still strains or cracks a little when mentioning my bisexuality "casually," so I have to practice.
And this is with my mom who says affectionately that I'm her favorite fruit. So I guess I've got to practice more.
I obsess, but it scares me. Just like with my license.
And even though coming out casually would be ideal for me, I don't know if that's possible. And I don't really know what the solution here is--not yet. But talking about my obsession really helps me feel better about it. Maybe I should just focus on accepting myself as obsessed, rather than trying to change.
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