I had a pretty bad week all told.
It started one day after one of my therpay sessions. I suddenly felt disconnected and confused. We had been talking about my inability to let go of the old expectations I have of my mother and about how frustrated I felt about that. My doctor said that the expectations I have of my mother would lessen when I had someone in my life that loved and cared for me. That this person would, in effect, take over some of my emotional needs. At least that was what I heard...
I started to feel that I was completely out of control of my happiness and well being. I took what was said to mean that until I found someone to love me who I truly trusted and loved back I would not be able to release the deep-seated issues I have with my parents.
One of the biggest issues I have to overcome is the fact that I believe deep down that it will be impossible to find someone who will love me with the respect and passion afforded to others. Since this is still my baseline feeling, hearing that my future happiness was directly connected to finding a 'true love', I knew in my soul that this was impossible. Add to that the fact that this also put my future happiness in the hands of some other mystery person and NOT in my own hands and I was pretty devastated. I'll never find happiness! I was unable to go into work for a few days and was profoundly sad. This should NOT be happening!
I also did not want to go in for my next session. I have learned throughout this process that the more I don't want to go in for a session, the more imortant it is that I do go and talk about it. As I began to describe what was going on I began to see how I had misinterpreted what was being said. Further discussion cleared things up but I was left with an uneasy feeling. How could I get so down so quickly, especially with work I'm ding and the medications I'm taking.
In short, I had a few bad days that took nearly a week to recover from. My own impatience at the pace things are taking naturally has pushed me to try to move too quickly I think. My doctor keeps reminding me that I need to set the pace for us. I mentioned that maybe I was pushing too hard, that maybe because I'm not ready to jump headlong back into the dating world that talking about finding love might be a bit premature. He said 'maybe' but that this kind of pain is beneficial and will only bring in real change if I allow myself to experience and understand it.
Maybe... but I think I need to understand myself even more before I'm ready to look at dating again. I think I need to believe that it is possible for me. There's a lot of evidence to the contrary in the forefront of my mind. I need to find a way to bring the evidence to support the idea that I'm (allegedly) loveable up from the murky depths. They are hard to see way down there...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Thought About Unthinkable
If the current culture 'wars' the religious conservatives are waging against everyone is as significant a cultural turning point as the one in the late 60's was, there's one thing I hadn't considered before...
The last time, the 'Good Guys' didn't win.
The last time, the 'Good Guys' didn't win.
Innocence Lost
I've been looking at my emotional state for quite a while now. It seems a logical part of the process of overcoming depression but I'm finding it much more tricky than I ever imagined. One thing I know with certainty is that I've been disconnected from my emotions for a long time. I find myself unable to 'feel' at times when I think I should and then will be overcome with emotion unexpectedly.
I went to the theatre today to see 'Hair'. A musical that I love and have seen other productions of as recently as last year. This show has always left me feeling happy and nostalgic for a time I never experienced first hand. It always struck me as being full of life (I've Got Life, Mother!) and Hope even though we know now that the cultural revolution of the late 60s ultimately fails.
Still it was a time when the country was ripe and hungry for change. The youth of America may have been naive in its hope for Love, Peace and Understanding (not to mention Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll) but what else is youth for if not to dream of a better world and believe you have the power to make it happen?
Today my experience was very different. Although I was at first taken to a familiar place, I ultimately went somewhere new and unexpected. By the end, tears were slowly but steadily streaming down my face as I was overcome with sadness. This was not a heaving, sobbing cry but instead the simple expression of tears flowing non-stop. I was moved this time at how much our current state as a nation is mirrored in this 43 year old musical about the hippie counter culture. An innocence we have certainly lost without having grown much (if any) wiser. I wept for all of us who still wish for a better life but have lost the drive to make it happen.
I also wept a bit for myself. I often mourn my loss of innocence (I held on to it as long as possible) and have wished I could find it again. I think there was a small piece that thought it would still be there when I came out of the depression but, of course, innocence once lost can never be regained. I think that hit home for me today.
I went to the theatre today to see 'Hair'. A musical that I love and have seen other productions of as recently as last year. This show has always left me feeling happy and nostalgic for a time I never experienced first hand. It always struck me as being full of life (I've Got Life, Mother!) and Hope even though we know now that the cultural revolution of the late 60s ultimately fails.
Still it was a time when the country was ripe and hungry for change. The youth of America may have been naive in its hope for Love, Peace and Understanding (not to mention Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll) but what else is youth for if not to dream of a better world and believe you have the power to make it happen?
Today my experience was very different. Although I was at first taken to a familiar place, I ultimately went somewhere new and unexpected. By the end, tears were slowly but steadily streaming down my face as I was overcome with sadness. This was not a heaving, sobbing cry but instead the simple expression of tears flowing non-stop. I was moved this time at how much our current state as a nation is mirrored in this 43 year old musical about the hippie counter culture. An innocence we have certainly lost without having grown much (if any) wiser. I wept for all of us who still wish for a better life but have lost the drive to make it happen.
I also wept a bit for myself. I often mourn my loss of innocence (I held on to it as long as possible) and have wished I could find it again. I think there was a small piece that thought it would still be there when I came out of the depression but, of course, innocence once lost can never be regained. I think that hit home for me today.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Mother/Son Cliche (Pt. 1)
Does the fact that something is a cliche automatically make it suspect? As I journey through life I find that most cliches exist because they embody a kernel of truth.
I do not think that my mother or anyone was the cause of my being gay, that is not the cliche to which I refer. I'm talking about the classic psychotherapy cliche 'Blame the Mother'. She is partially responsible for many of the events of my life that have been the leading causes of my depression. That 'blame' can be spread across many of the adult members of my family but, fair or not, I placed the greatest expectations on my mother and she has been unable to fulfill any of these basic needs. I know it is easy to target our parents as the cause of our life problems and in my case I have mountains of evidence to back up these claims. But that blame can only go so far. At some point in our lives we have to begin to take back the reigns and forge ahead. So why is this so very hard?
Unlike many, I was not subjected to physical abuse by any adult as a child. I grew up in a middle class family and, even when times were tough, we rarely wanted for anything truly important. Shelter, food, clothing, toys, all were provided and there are many happy memories of birthdays and Holidays but there was very little in the way of emotional or physical displays of affection. Unpleasantness was neither tolerated nor acknowledged. Nothing 'bad' ever happened. Those moments were quickly swept under the rug and never discussed. In fact, they quickly moved into the realm of 'Things That Never Happened'.
Neither of my parents should ever had had children to begin with. The maternal and paternal genes either simply don't exist in their DNA or they were crushed beneath their longing for a life without the responsibility of progeny. I believe, on some level, my sister and I were left among the 'Things That Never Happened' whenever possible. My father got off easy when they divorced, he didn't have us around all the time and was quick to cancel visits whenever possible. So the burden was placed on my mother who was often more interested in her dating life than her own children. She even had a date on my birthday one year and hurried us through dinner so she could get ready. I baked my own birthday cake that year. At least my sister and I learned to be independent!
I don't say these things to elicit sympathy. Being neglected isn't the worst thing that can happen to a child (maybe...) but rather to illustrate the following point. As an adult, after years of therapy, I understand that both of my parents are deficient in their capacity to be good, loving, nurturing parents. They could never be a Mommy or a Daddy because they lack the skills. They aren't interested in their children's lives because they are too wrapped up in themselves. I get that on an intellectual level. I'm struggling with why I can't seem to emotionally release them (especially my mother) from the expectation that they should be these people. That they should make every effort to maintain and grow their relationships with their children rather than let them drift (or even push) farther and farther away. And they should have been proud to be our parents. Out of all of the cousins of our generation, my sister and I are the only ones to have never gotten into any trouble of any kind. We were good students, excelled in extracurricular activities and were just all around good kids. You know, the black sheep...
As an adult, I tried on many occasions over the years to talk with my mother about things from my childhood, to get even a little sliver of my expectations met and have always failed. Of course, at first, I tried to get my mother to admit that she made some mistakes in raising us. That some things might have been handled better... that was a losing battle. She told me that I could ask her anything I wanted... but that she wouldn't remember anything. (!!!)
Eventually, I tried to at least get her to acknowledge that I was having trouble with things that happened in my childhood - not to admit that anything was her fault - but to understand that I was caused pain. She dismissed my feelings as ridiculous saying, "If that is the biggest problem in your life then you really are messed up." Just like Mother Theresa!
I had given up on any of this with my father years before and have rarely looked back. He has popped up from time to time but always disappeared just as quickly so I learned not to put my faith in him and to let go of any expectation. That has worked out pretty well, all things considered. So why can't I do the same with my mother?
Why do I insist she show some remorse, take some responsibility, acknowledge my pain when I KNOW she simply cannot. It is akin to being angry with someone who is color blind because they can't tell red from green. So my frustration is more with myself than with my mother because I can't let this go. This is going to be a tough one because it links directly to my issues of trust in other people. If my own parents don't care about me... why would anyone else?
I know this is a bit rambling all over the place and I do have specific examples of what I'm talking about but I guess I need to tackle those more directly. Right now I'm more focused on my inability than on those of my parents. These things run very deep...
I do not think that my mother or anyone was the cause of my being gay, that is not the cliche to which I refer. I'm talking about the classic psychotherapy cliche 'Blame the Mother'. She is partially responsible for many of the events of my life that have been the leading causes of my depression. That 'blame' can be spread across many of the adult members of my family but, fair or not, I placed the greatest expectations on my mother and she has been unable to fulfill any of these basic needs. I know it is easy to target our parents as the cause of our life problems and in my case I have mountains of evidence to back up these claims. But that blame can only go so far. At some point in our lives we have to begin to take back the reigns and forge ahead. So why is this so very hard?
Unlike many, I was not subjected to physical abuse by any adult as a child. I grew up in a middle class family and, even when times were tough, we rarely wanted for anything truly important. Shelter, food, clothing, toys, all were provided and there are many happy memories of birthdays and Holidays but there was very little in the way of emotional or physical displays of affection. Unpleasantness was neither tolerated nor acknowledged. Nothing 'bad' ever happened. Those moments were quickly swept under the rug and never discussed. In fact, they quickly moved into the realm of 'Things That Never Happened'.
Neither of my parents should ever had had children to begin with. The maternal and paternal genes either simply don't exist in their DNA or they were crushed beneath their longing for a life without the responsibility of progeny. I believe, on some level, my sister and I were left among the 'Things That Never Happened' whenever possible. My father got off easy when they divorced, he didn't have us around all the time and was quick to cancel visits whenever possible. So the burden was placed on my mother who was often more interested in her dating life than her own children. She even had a date on my birthday one year and hurried us through dinner so she could get ready. I baked my own birthday cake that year. At least my sister and I learned to be independent!
I don't say these things to elicit sympathy. Being neglected isn't the worst thing that can happen to a child (maybe...) but rather to illustrate the following point. As an adult, after years of therapy, I understand that both of my parents are deficient in their capacity to be good, loving, nurturing parents. They could never be a Mommy or a Daddy because they lack the skills. They aren't interested in their children's lives because they are too wrapped up in themselves. I get that on an intellectual level. I'm struggling with why I can't seem to emotionally release them (especially my mother) from the expectation that they should be these people. That they should make every effort to maintain and grow their relationships with their children rather than let them drift (or even push) farther and farther away. And they should have been proud to be our parents. Out of all of the cousins of our generation, my sister and I are the only ones to have never gotten into any trouble of any kind. We were good students, excelled in extracurricular activities and were just all around good kids. You know, the black sheep...
As an adult, I tried on many occasions over the years to talk with my mother about things from my childhood, to get even a little sliver of my expectations met and have always failed. Of course, at first, I tried to get my mother to admit that she made some mistakes in raising us. That some things might have been handled better... that was a losing battle. She told me that I could ask her anything I wanted... but that she wouldn't remember anything. (!!!)
Eventually, I tried to at least get her to acknowledge that I was having trouble with things that happened in my childhood - not to admit that anything was her fault - but to understand that I was caused pain. She dismissed my feelings as ridiculous saying, "If that is the biggest problem in your life then you really are messed up." Just like Mother Theresa!
I had given up on any of this with my father years before and have rarely looked back. He has popped up from time to time but always disappeared just as quickly so I learned not to put my faith in him and to let go of any expectation. That has worked out pretty well, all things considered. So why can't I do the same with my mother?
Why do I insist she show some remorse, take some responsibility, acknowledge my pain when I KNOW she simply cannot. It is akin to being angry with someone who is color blind because they can't tell red from green. So my frustration is more with myself than with my mother because I can't let this go. This is going to be a tough one because it links directly to my issues of trust in other people. If my own parents don't care about me... why would anyone else?
I know this is a bit rambling all over the place and I do have specific examples of what I'm talking about but I guess I need to tackle those more directly. Right now I'm more focused on my inability than on those of my parents. These things run very deep...
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Show Me State (of Mind)
I guess I should have been born in Missouri since I am definitely a 'Show Me' kind of guy.
My therapist has made some statements that I find rather amazing and presumptuous and I always make a point of telling him so. He usually responds by not responding with more than a nod of his head. Of course, this is one of the reasons I like him. He challenges me to see things in a different way.
One of those statements was that I would find that there are men out there who will find me desirable exactly as I am, flaws and all. I categorize that as one of those things people say that is ultimately not true. We all WANT it to be true but it isn't. This led to the discussion I wrote about in my last post and my realization that men HAVE found me desirable in the past. Of course, I was younger, cuter, blah, blah, blah. I doubt it was STILL true. Show Me, right! well, I'll show HIM!
I realize that was one of the driving factors that helped push me to the sex party last weekend. I would prove no one would be interested. To my delight and utter surprise, there WERE men attracted to me. Quite a few in fact. I had to admit that maybe my therapist might be on to something... I'm not convinced yet but I can at least see the possibility.
That is the running theme in our sessions. Getting me to see the possibility of things. My very well honed stubbornness is tough to crack through. When we started, another thing I could never imagine was that I could be in a relationship again. I had been hurt so deeply so many times that I could truly not even imagine having someone in my life that I could love, trust and rely on who would truly feel the same toward me. I don't make statements like that lightly. I truly couldn't even imagine it. The other night I had a dream where, after a bit of a struggle, I found a man who loved me. Truly loved ME and I loved him back. I called it 'The Boyfriend Dream'. I can't say I can't even imagine it anymore.
I guess I am saying 'Show Me' to myself more than to anyone else. That is when I really believe.
My therapist has made some statements that I find rather amazing and presumptuous and I always make a point of telling him so. He usually responds by not responding with more than a nod of his head. Of course, this is one of the reasons I like him. He challenges me to see things in a different way.
One of those statements was that I would find that there are men out there who will find me desirable exactly as I am, flaws and all. I categorize that as one of those things people say that is ultimately not true. We all WANT it to be true but it isn't. This led to the discussion I wrote about in my last post and my realization that men HAVE found me desirable in the past. Of course, I was younger, cuter, blah, blah, blah. I doubt it was STILL true. Show Me, right! well, I'll show HIM!
I realize that was one of the driving factors that helped push me to the sex party last weekend. I would prove no one would be interested. To my delight and utter surprise, there WERE men attracted to me. Quite a few in fact. I had to admit that maybe my therapist might be on to something... I'm not convinced yet but I can at least see the possibility.
That is the running theme in our sessions. Getting me to see the possibility of things. My very well honed stubbornness is tough to crack through. When we started, another thing I could never imagine was that I could be in a relationship again. I had been hurt so deeply so many times that I could truly not even imagine having someone in my life that I could love, trust and rely on who would truly feel the same toward me. I don't make statements like that lightly. I truly couldn't even imagine it. The other night I had a dream where, after a bit of a struggle, I found a man who loved me. Truly loved ME and I loved him back. I called it 'The Boyfriend Dream'. I can't say I can't even imagine it anymore.
I guess I am saying 'Show Me' to myself more than to anyone else. That is when I really believe.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Self Image (Pt. 3)
As I journey through, and out of, my depression, I find more and more that my perception of myself is flawed.
In a recent session, my therapist asked me how many people have found me desirable. My initial answer was "Other than people who I later found to have had an ulterior motive, using me to make someone else jealous, financial or personal gain, etc. - just one." I was as sure about that answer as if I had been asked my name.
He asked if I was referring to 'Mr. Brazil', the man I speak of in an earlier post. "Well, no." I said, "I guess there have been two then. I meant 'MRI Guy'. We met on a gay 4th of July cruise and dated for a few months but I wasn't really ready for a new relationship. 'Untalented but Beautiful Actor' had only moved out three months earlier and I was very leery of allowing anyone new in." I explained.
As we discussed this further I began to remember others... men who had clearly been attracted to me, that I had pushed out of my mind. Men who's desire for me physically I had dismissed out of hand for a myriad of reasons that all seemed rational and valid at the time. The one's that remained in the forefront of my consciousness were all of the ones that ended badly or reinforced my self image of being unattractive and unlovable. By the time we had finished the session I was able to identify seven of these men.
Since then more and more have sprung to mind. These are the one's I'm aware of. The number may be even larger if I am to accept the possibility that there were some I didn't acknowledge at all. 'Mr. Brazil' is a perfect example.
I was at a bar with my friend 'Iron Chef' one night. A place we would frequent once a week because it was between work and home for both of us. We also had become friends with a few of the bartenders and it was a perfect time and place for us all to get together. One evening we spotted a very sexy older man come into the bar and we both mentioned how handsome he was. Later in the evening one of our bartender friends came over and asked me if he could introduce one of his friends to me. I said 'sure' and then 'Iron chef' said, "It's that hot guy!" "Right", I said, "He wants to meet ME!" I turned around and was face to face with 'Mr. Brazil'. As I mentioned he was VERY handsome and VERY sexy so the attraction for me was immediate. I just couldn't imagine why he was interested in meeting me. As we spoke more the mutual attraction was undeniable (and, as I mentioned in the earlier post, he is a great kisser) and we exchanged contact info. As I read his card I noticed the address. "Is this your home address?" I asked. It was. I said, "You live right around the corner from me." "I know" he said, "I see you walk your dog all the time and have been trying to get your attention for two years but you never see me."
!!!!!!!!
How often have I missed these opportunities?
In a recent session, my therapist asked me how many people have found me desirable. My initial answer was "Other than people who I later found to have had an ulterior motive, using me to make someone else jealous, financial or personal gain, etc. - just one." I was as sure about that answer as if I had been asked my name.
He asked if I was referring to 'Mr. Brazil', the man I speak of in an earlier post. "Well, no." I said, "I guess there have been two then. I meant 'MRI Guy'. We met on a gay 4th of July cruise and dated for a few months but I wasn't really ready for a new relationship. 'Untalented but Beautiful Actor' had only moved out three months earlier and I was very leery of allowing anyone new in." I explained.
As we discussed this further I began to remember others... men who had clearly been attracted to me, that I had pushed out of my mind. Men who's desire for me physically I had dismissed out of hand for a myriad of reasons that all seemed rational and valid at the time. The one's that remained in the forefront of my consciousness were all of the ones that ended badly or reinforced my self image of being unattractive and unlovable. By the time we had finished the session I was able to identify seven of these men.
Since then more and more have sprung to mind. These are the one's I'm aware of. The number may be even larger if I am to accept the possibility that there were some I didn't acknowledge at all. 'Mr. Brazil' is a perfect example.
I was at a bar with my friend 'Iron Chef' one night. A place we would frequent once a week because it was between work and home for both of us. We also had become friends with a few of the bartenders and it was a perfect time and place for us all to get together. One evening we spotted a very sexy older man come into the bar and we both mentioned how handsome he was. Later in the evening one of our bartender friends came over and asked me if he could introduce one of his friends to me. I said 'sure' and then 'Iron chef' said, "It's that hot guy!" "Right", I said, "He wants to meet ME!" I turned around and was face to face with 'Mr. Brazil'. As I mentioned he was VERY handsome and VERY sexy so the attraction for me was immediate. I just couldn't imagine why he was interested in meeting me. As we spoke more the mutual attraction was undeniable (and, as I mentioned in the earlier post, he is a great kisser) and we exchanged contact info. As I read his card I noticed the address. "Is this your home address?" I asked. It was. I said, "You live right around the corner from me." "I know" he said, "I see you walk your dog all the time and have been trying to get your attention for two years but you never see me."
!!!!!!!!
How often have I missed these opportunities?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I Went Through With It... and Had Fun
I'm still processing the events of last night but I did go through with attending the sex party.
I battled with myself as I got ready (has it always taken so long?) and, in the end, got into a cab and was on my way. I got there more quickly than I expected, was nervous as hell (would I be accepted, would I find anyone attractive, would anyone fine ME attractive, would this be an emotional disaster?) and took a few minutes to calm myself while I undressed in the bathroom.
I checked my clothes and ventured into the 'playroom'. The experience was very much as I remembered. I guess not much changes with these things other than the location and the participants. I was surprised at how quickly my nerves left and how quickly I was approached. Turns out I was much more popular than I imagined possible. A very nice boost to my ego!
It was still a bit overwhelming so I really didn't engage in a lot of activity, preferring to keep things simple and let myself get used to the idea that I am still sexually desirable. A little sensual conversation, a lot of kissing, and some oral play was as far as I was willing to go and there was plenty of opportunity for just that. Watching others engage in more intense play was more than enough for a 'first time'.
I only stayed for about two hours but had a great time. This is a pretty regular party so I'll definitely go again and explore and engage more as I reacquaint and become more comfortable with my sexual side. We've been apart for a long time!
I battled with myself as I got ready (has it always taken so long?) and, in the end, got into a cab and was on my way. I got there more quickly than I expected, was nervous as hell (would I be accepted, would I find anyone attractive, would anyone fine ME attractive, would this be an emotional disaster?) and took a few minutes to calm myself while I undressed in the bathroom.
I checked my clothes and ventured into the 'playroom'. The experience was very much as I remembered. I guess not much changes with these things other than the location and the participants. I was surprised at how quickly my nerves left and how quickly I was approached. Turns out I was much more popular than I imagined possible. A very nice boost to my ego!
It was still a bit overwhelming so I really didn't engage in a lot of activity, preferring to keep things simple and let myself get used to the idea that I am still sexually desirable. A little sensual conversation, a lot of kissing, and some oral play was as far as I was willing to go and there was plenty of opportunity for just that. Watching others engage in more intense play was more than enough for a 'first time'.
I only stayed for about two hours but had a great time. This is a pretty regular party so I'll definitely go again and explore and engage more as I reacquaint and become more comfortable with my sexual side. We've been apart for a long time!
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