Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

Adele. 

Say what you want, but to me, she’s one of the most incredible artists in this generation.  She truly sings from her soul, you can tell, you know, that she’s been here.  She makes you feel the pain behind her words.  She makes you smirk with the sassiness in some of her lyrics too.

She doesn’t just impress a sadness upon you.  It’s more then that.  She makes you feel the sad, but reminds you that there’s good that comes with the bad, and there’s silver linings in everything.  Even if that silver lining is an angry rant, to celebrate how good it feels after just releasing that anger. 

Her music speaks to me in a way that very few have in the past. 

Sometimes though, some of her lyrics hit you like a ton of bricks.  Some of her lyrics just make you want to lay in bed and cry yourself to sleep. 

In this I speak of the song ‘Someone Like You’. 

If you haven’t heard it, please, have a listen. 

Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too Don't forget me, I begged, I remember you said Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead  

That in particular hits me the hardest. 

Now if you’ve actually read more then one or two entries in my blog, you’ll have seen that I have fairly recently when through a break up, that for me was really messy.   For him, I don’t actually know how it was for him, I wish I did, I wish I could know.  But I don’t think he’ll ever talk to me again.

I don’t think this is a bad thing.  

He wasn’t good for me, at least not at this point in my life.  I think if it had been another time, another place, our temp… yeah, sorry, I totally just about quoted RENT there by accident.  But I digress, he came along at a time when I was feeling pretty vulnerable.  My depression was probably at its worst since my very early 20’s.   I was a right mess. 

I felt that someone cared for me, I felt compassion, and I fell.  I fell to hard and too fast, and he at this point in his life was really just looking for something casual.  Which, no matter what I told myself, is something that I just am not capable of and I don’t think I ever will be.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing that either.

In the end though, I came on too strong, and he was completely and utterly emotionally unavailable at this point in his life.  Sure, that’s his shit, but I had my own shit too, and I have to own up to that.  

I’m not going to get into the how and why it ended, I think it was just that our baggage, at this point, was not compatible with the other’s and it had to be over or it was going to explode.  Which it kind of did, but I think if it had gone much further it probably would have been a lot worse. 

The reason why Adele’s song is applicable to this is because I really do want someone like him.  He is a strong and beautiful man.  He had shown me a level of compassion and tenderness I never actually thought was possible to come from another man.  He was sweet and kind to me, and that is why I fell so hard and so fast.

I’m not trying to put him on a pedestal either.  Don’t get me wrong, he had his faults too.  He was emotionally unavailable and flaky as all hell. But he actually made me realize that I deserve better.  That I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. 

He really is the first man that has ever made me feel that way.  I think that’s why it hurt so much when it ended, but I think he came along to really teach me that lesson.  Even if the class was so short, the lesson is very long lasting.  So for that I thank him. 

What hurts the most about it now, is that at the end of it all, I really just felt like I was being cast aside, that he wanted nothing to do with me and just wanted to forget.  It hurt, because I know I deserve better then what he did, and it’s ironic because like I said, he’s the one who taught me that.  

I do not wish him any ill will, in fact, I hope that everything he wants and dreams of comes to him.  I really do wish that some day that I will find someone like him.  It might have really hurt this time, but I think this time, it taught me that I can find the one that lasts.  Thank you MT for teaching me that.

P.S. And thank you Adele, for helping me sort it out

The Perks of Being a 17 Year Old Gay Boy

I want to tell you a story about a brave young man. This story is actually one of the few times where he felt utterly defeated. I want to tell you about this time in his life, because it was a time when he never felt more afraid or more scared, he had ever felt more like giving up.  Despite every obstacle that sprung up, he didn't, despite the fact that many would have.  

I will warn you though that what follows could be triggering for anyone who has ever been physically assaulted. So brace yourself, because this isn't a pretty tale.

---

Once again he’s come home drunk. That’s not really a surprise, it is his default state after all. You’re just glad that he didn’t kill anyone on his drive home.

But you notice he’s more aggressive this time, more angry. He’s making fun of you because you tell people you’re a vegetarian and he’s throwing fried bologna at you. You’re getting irritated and you just tell him you want to go to sleep.

Well the couch is where you sleep on the weekends you visit him, because he hasn’t provided a room for you since you lived there when you were a child, when your parents were still together.  A time in your life that you don't even remember.

"You’ll go to bed when I want to go to bed, and I’m not tired yet." He yells at you from his seat at the bar that separates the kitchen and the living room.

You get up and you turn off the game you were playing, and put on your slippers. Because it’s a farm house and it gets really cold at night in December. You go for the door that separates the two halves of the house, one being your father’s and the other being your grandparent’s.

”Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He gets up and blocks your exit. You say that you’re just going to go over to grandma’s and pick out a movie to watch. You’re starting to feel really scared, your father is an aggressive drunk, but he’s never been this aggressive and angry with you before.

"Like hell you are, you’re gonna fucking sit right there until I’m ready to go to bed." He yells out at you and pushes you on to the couch.

Your heart starts pumping adrenaline through you’re entire system, you’re getting ready for fight or flight, and given your circumstances your body and mind agree with one thing, flight is the only thing that will save you.

”Dad, please, I’m really tired, you just want to veg out and watch a movie. Grandma’s not even home right now she’s at Bingo, she’ll be gone until two.” You look at the clock, it’s midnight now.

"She doesn’t want you over there, neither does your grandfather. They’re ashamed of you." He spits out at you, getting right in your face.

You say something you regret even before it comes out of your mouth. "Go have another drink Dad and leave me alone."

He grabs you by the collar of the shirt you’re wearing and picks you up. He then slams you back down on the couch, his hands are around your neck and you’re flailing trying to get away.

"What makes you think you can talk to me that way you dirty little faggot. I know you don’t want to be here this weekend, but your mother doesn’t know what to do with you anymore, she’s so ashamed of you and your perverted gay ways." He lets up for a second and you’re able to squirm away. You try and grab your pants and your shoes so you can make a run for it. It’s the middle of the night, you’re in the middle of the no where, but if you can just get dressed, you can get to your best friend’s, she only lives about 2km away.

"DID I SAY I WAS FUCKING DONE WITH YOU FAGGOT!?" He screams at you, and grabs you again, this time throwing you to the floor. This time he has you backed into a corner and his knee is at your throat.

He’s yelling and screaming obscenities at you, telling you how you’ve brought shame to your entire family. They’re all ashamed of you and you’re better off dead. You start to believe him.

You start begging and pleading for him to let you go, and that’ll he’ll never have to see you again. Just let you get your stuff, and you’ll leave. You beg and plead for what seems like hours while he keeps pushing you back down to the ground and strangling you. You’re coughing, sputtering and the tears will not stop coming down your face.

Finally he relents, he’s going to let you leave. So he starts to push you out the door. Keep in mind that you’re wearing a t-shit, boxers and you’re barefoot. He tries to push you out, but you’re able to stop him from throwing you out into the snow. Literally.

"Just let me get my stuff," you beg. "Just let me put on my clothes and shoes on and I’ll be out of your life forever."

You both fall to the ground, your both exhausted from the two hours of relentless physical activity. You hear the front door open on the porch. Your grandmother is home. You make a run for it, and you’re too quick for your father. You burst out of your father’s side of the apartment, and your father is not too far on your trail. One look from her though and he stops, she tells him to go to bed that she’ll take it from here.

You however, cannot be calmed down. You’re still scared for your life and all you want to do is call your mom and you want her to come pick you up. Your grandmother tries to convince you that you have nothing to worry about it, your father was just drunk and he’ll be fine in the morning. But you don’t want to hear it, you want out now.

You call your mother, you have to call four times until someone picks up. It is 2 am after all. Your step father picks up the phone, you demand to talk to your mother and he hangs up the phone on you. You call back and he tells you to leave them the fuck alone.

You feel defeated. You have no escape now. Your grandmother makes you a cup of hot chocolate, like that’s going to make you forget everything that just happened. She tries to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, it’s not a big deal, he was just drunk. She takes you into the living room and settles you down on the love seat while she gets on the couch.

Soon she is asleep, and you’re wide awake still. The TV still on radiating it’s bluish light across the room. It’s now 4:00 am, and everyone is now asleep. You get up from your seat and sneak back over to your dad’s. You gather up all of your stuff and you bundle yourself up and you walk out the door to walk the 2km to your best friend’s place.

You get there, but don’t really remember walking. Suddenly you’re at their door, it’s 5 or 5:30 now. You see lights on, and you know people are awake. You remember that your best friend’s little sisters are probably working the early shift at the Tim Horton’s in Aberfoyle. You knock on the door. But it’s not loud enough. You’re afraid that they’re going to be mad at you for showing up at so early in the morning.

You sit down on their front stoop and wait. You’re cold, but you’re safe now. You start to nod off. What seems like seconds later the door opens and your best friend’s mom finds you huddled up on the step. She gets you up and she gets you inside, she asks you what’s wrong and you start to tell her but you start crying and the words can’t make it to your tongue.

She wraps her arms around you, and hushes you, gets you out of your shoes and your jacket. Chides you like any good mom would for not wearing a touque. She sets you down on the couch in the play room with a huge duvet and just tells you to sleep until your best friend gets up.

Finally you can fall to sleep. You wake with your best friend sitting on the couch you’re laying on, just watching you sleep. When she sees your eyes open she just gives you a look that tells you how sorry she is, she doesn’t know what happened yet, but she doesn’t need to. She knows that it must have been really bad to get you to come here like you did.

You go up to her room, and between sobs you’re able to tell her what happened. She just holds you in her bed for the rest of the morning until people start to notice that you’re missing. Your mother calls, she’s angry. She wouldn’t even listen to what you had to say, your step father and father clearly were able to give her a believable story first, and what you have to say didn’t matter. She tells you that your grandmother is coming to pick you up, and that she is not impressed.

The ride back into Guelph is a silent one. You’re worn out. You have no more fight in you. You get back to your mother and step father’s home to find them seated at the kitchen table. You’re told to take off your coat and sit down, where your step father precede to yell and scream at you, and he tells you what you got was nothing because his father used to put his head through a wall.

You can’t get a word in edgewise, until finally he asks you a question. "Give me one good reason why I should let you live in my home?"

You look at him, you have no answer, you can’t believe you’re even being asked it. But you’re tired, and you’re defeated, and you have nothing left to fight with. He asks you again, this time louder.

"I guess… I have no reason why I should stay." You say quietly, the tears start to come again. Your mother sits there in stony silence doesn’t even look at you.

"Then get a bag and get out."

---

I wanted to tell you this story, because I think it's time that I actually tell it. I think it's time that I get it into the open so I begin to let it go. I am telling you this story because this young man was me.

The story of course did not end here. After that happened I made some phone calls and went down do a youth centre in downtown Guelph called Change Now that ran a Queer Youth group on Saturday. I called ahead and luckily they were still there. When I showed up there with a gym bag in hand with some clothes, I was exhausted. S., the facilitator for the group had made calls ahead of me and found me an emergency bed in a shelter.

To be honest, I was scared to go to a boys' shelter. I was a young gay boy and I had this preconceived notion that it would have been dangerous for me to go there. I made a couple of calls and found a friend who lived near downtown Guelph, she came and met me and we sat for a couple of hours in the safeness of the centre and we talked. S. tried to convince me to call the police, there were bruises on my neck and all up and down my back. In hindsight, I probably should have, but I was defeated, all those nasty things that my father was yelling at me I felt were true, and that no one would actually do anything to help me. Despite what S. was doing and my friend.

So my friend took me home that day and I slept over at her place, we rented a wonderful movie about young gay boys and love, and fell asleep cuddling on the couch.

There's a lot more to this story, from what happened from my friend's house that night until mid January when I ended up on staying with some Queer University Students that took me in under their wing. Maybe one day I'll tell all of that too, but not today, but I will leave you with an image of this young man 6 months after this happened. He's smiling, but I can tell you on good authority that this young man was never too sure what happiness actually was.

I wish for nothing more then to be able to go back and tell him.  Arm him for the years ahead of him.  I don't want to tell him that it will get better, but I want to give him the tools so he can start to make it better for himself then.  I want to remind him that he has so many beautiful souls looking out for him and that he deserves everything he wants and that all needs to do is reach for the stars in order to touch him.  But only when he's ready to get the treatment that he needs, the counselling to remind him that it's not his fault.  And yes, the pills that he need to talk to his doctor about and get the one's that are right for him, to help lift the fog from his life.

Just as a note here, this is my story.  A reaction I just got on this scared the hell out of me, and I want to make sure that there's something else included here.

This time of my life was awful, but this time, the late 90's to the early 00's wasn't just awful for me.  There was a lot of other things going on. for other family members of mine.  There's only one I want to protect here.  Because many people might want to paint my mother with a brush that makes her look and sound awful.

I will admit, that in this story, she comes off as being awful.  But this is my story, and there's much of her's that correlates with this, that isn't mine to tell.  So if you're going to respond, I ask that you not wish any ill will towards my mother, for she is now on the other side of this and is standing strong with me.  I love her dearly, and right now she's more of gay activist then I am.

She does work, support and education  for PFLAG because she wants to make sure that my story isn't repeated to anyone.  So please know that she's an amazing woman, and her and I have made our peace and our relationship is stronger for it.

I think part of it, is that she felt trapped in that situation with Bryan, she couldn't get out of it.  I really think that part of her wanted me out, she knew I had been building up a support network in the GLBT community, and she wanted to get me out of there for my safety.  If that makes any sense.

I know I'm rambling here, and maybe trying so hard to justify, but my mother is very much an inspiration to me, and I love her with all of my heart.

A Week In The Life - # 1

So it's Sunday evening, we are at the dawn of a new week, and I wanted to take some time to reflect about what I have learned this week.


It’s okay to have a bad day.

Seriously, it’s not the end of the world. It doesn’t mean that you’re back sliding back to where you were. It’s just a bad day, and sometimes they happen, and you just have to let it. Bad days are stressful, and there’s no point in stressing yourself out more about it. Just let it happen, go home, and have a nice tea latte made with Mother’s Valium Little Helper.


You can have a lot of respect for somebody, but not really like them all that much. 

This was not an easy lesson to learn. There is someone in my life that I just can't put my finger on what it is that I don't like about them. You see I respect this person a lot, I feel I have a lot to learn from them, I appreciate and welcome their feedback and criticisms, I also enjoy talking to this person from time to time. But they tell me some things sometimes that just really irk me, I see and hear about their behaviour and it makes me want to give them a lecture on ethics and manners. But not rey my place to do so.

So it's okay to respect someone, and not like them all the time. I'm not saying that I hate this person, but I believe I just need to limit the amount of time I'm around them. I'm fairly certain they feel the same way. So just let it be what it is, you're never going to like everyone, and not everyone is going to like you, but it doesn't mean that everyone has to be jerks to one another.   You can still be friendly and respectful and kind even.

Treatment can work, if you let it. 

I've been on treatment for a little over a month now, and I'm telling you, things are starting to work. I've had more energy this week that I have ever had in my life. I am starting to really feel like a real person. This is amazing. To finally feel like I can accomplish something, that I can actually live up to the potential that so many people tell me I have, that I myself feel that I have. I can get out there and do good work.

Loose Leaf Tea is a Goddess Send. 

If you've never been to DAVIDsTEA then you need to get yourself to one ASAP. This wasn't really a lesson that I learned this week, but rather one that I was reminded of. Also, yes I said Goddess, because seriously, if there is a deity that gave us tea, she is a woman, and she's probably queer.

That work is work, and you shouldn’t have to take it home with you.

Seriously, it's okay to leave it at work, and not worry about it when you get home. IT'S OKAY!

You have amazing and beautiful friends.

Seriously, I do, these people in my life are amazing.  I was asked this week to have one of my posts published in a aboriginal cultural and news magazine called, Tusaayaksat that is based out of Inuvik, NT.  This is something that couldn't have been accomplished with out my dear friend Maia L.

Upon hearing this news, my friends gave me a tonne of support.   A lot of them posted it all over facebook, Kristin C. took it a level higher and started tweeting the hell out of my blog, and I had Kate Bornstein comment on it, which was an incredible honour.

And you'd think that would be enough, but another friend who was being interview on CBC radio asked me my permission to read my piece on air.  This didn't happen, but to have all these beautiful and wonderful people show pride in me?  Well it was a little over whelming.

But wait, there's one more thing, and I know that at this point I might be bragging, but some people in the blogosphere might be aware of the incredibly fun and talented Sare3 she has an incredibly blog that is beautiful and inspiring in the simplicity of it's lay out, and the honest way that she write and shares what she does.  Her blog often makes me smile everytime I check it out.

Well she wrote something that was dedicated to me, and I want to link to it, because I have never been so touched by someone's words.  They were kind, and part of me feels that I don't deserve or live up to them, but I will let you decide that. So please check it out, and check out her blog to! Thursdays Song of Day: Us

---

Well I think that's quite a list of lessons to learn in one week, I look forward to a new week of ups and downs, and more lessons to learn.  And maybe I might get lucky and win the lottery!  Heh.

See you tomorrow! 

How To: Dating Someone With Depression

You’ve just had an amazing date.   So much so that you’ve ended up back at their place.  You’re having a great time connecting with them, really chatting and getting to know one another.

The next think you know, things are getting a little heavy.  You’re making out, and you’re pretty much about to go all the way.  But it’s been a long day, and before anything happens you want to freshen up a little, so you politely excuse yourself to the bathroom.

While in the bathroom you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, wash yourself up a bit, and then you go into the cabinet to grab the toothpaste, to do the old, use your finger as a toothbrush trick.   When you do though, you knock over a couple of prescription bottles,  you pick it up and you read what they are.

Take one pill once a day.  

100 mg Bupropion,  

DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL

Take one or two pills as needed for anxiety.

0.5 mg Lorazepam

DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL

You take out your phone, you quickly google these medications.  You quickly find out that your date suffers from depression and anxiety. 

What do you do? What should you do?

Well I’m certainly no ‘expert’, meaning I don’t have a bunch of letters beside my name and a piece of paper from a patriarchal bureaucratic institution that supposedly gives people the license to present opinion as fact. 

But here, as someone that’s surviving depression and anxiety, let me give you a few pointers on how it can and could be done. 

1)      Respect.

2)      Compassion

3)      Honesty.

4)      Loyalty.

5)      Patience.

6)      Reassurance.

7)      LOVE.

Honestly, if you’re not really doing all of the above, how are you dating at all?

I am not going to sit here and give you a list of how to be a decent human being to others.  As long as you’re taking the time to be honest and listen to the person you’re dating, no matter how long you’ve been together, whether it’s been a week or a decade,  you’re going to keep going strong. 

I’m not going to deny that dating someone who is surviving and fighting - depression and anxiety isn’t going to have it’s challenge.   I certainly won’t deny that I am not the easiest person to date.   I’m kind of high maintenance and I need constant reassurance.  Right now, if I was to enter into a relationship, I’d be constantly terrified that it was all just temporary, that there’d be nothing I could do to stop the eventual end.

I’ll tell you, that particular insecurity has cut short a few relationships of mine. But in the end, they also weren’t showing the above list, and really I think you need to do all of the above list no matter who you’re dating if anything is going to last and be healthy. 

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.” 
― Marilyn Monroe

  

Filler Post

Well, only the second day into my challenge and I have already missed it.

Well not really, I am currently working something that ended up being a bit longer then I expected, so I am going to finish it tomorrow and post it then.  In the mean time, look at some pictures that I like from around the interwebs! 

This has a beautiful message that makes me smile and tear up at the same time. 

If I wore dresses and came in my size, I'd be all over this! CBC DRESS

Sings, "And that's the Gospel Truth!"   

If you haven't read this, then you probably should. 

And the Selphie Zombies go TRAAAAAAAINS! 

And if you get that without google I'll probably love you forever. 

Yeah, not going to lie.  I'm totally just including this because I want to brag. 

It says:  To David, Have a shiny birthday! <3 Jewel Staite 

True facts! 

HA!  MLP for the WIN!

Really makes you think doesn't it? 

The picture really kind of says it all.  

HA!! I love it! I love it a lot! 

Kind of a negative way to leave things off, but this totally made me laugh. 

I suppose that that's enough for now.   I have to say I've been a little overwhelmed this past week.  With being asked if I was okay if one of my posts could be published, to having over 300 new hits on my blog over the past two days.  Seeing people talk about something I wrote... I can't tell you how honoured and I flattered I am by all of this.

You're all beautiful, awesome and wonderful people!  Thank you for letting me share with you.

Accomplished

So I’m trying out this blog thing more, and I’m going to try to write something every day this month. I’m gearing up to submit something for - Canada Writes – for the creative non-fiction portion of the competition, and as a part of that I can’t post what I’m going to submit. So I might not post my writing every day, bit I am going to try and post something.

As a part of overcoming depression, I think it’s important that I start looking back on my life and realize how much I accomplished. Maybe that sounds a bit self serving, but I suppose that’s the point of it. I need to remind myself how far I’ve come, and recognize that what I went through was some pretty hard shit, and celebrate my strengths.

If you’re working through your own depression I urge you to do the same. I think it’s important for all of us. Whether you write some in the comments, make your own blog post, or just write it for yourself. I think it’s important.

So in no particular order, I’m going to list them.

1) I survived my adolescence.
2) I survived the bullies.
3) I survived the abuse from every father figure I’ve ever had.
4) I survived sexual assault.
5) I survived being kicked out of my home.
6) I overcame the broken hearts. Three and counting, but I can’t and won’t let that stop me from connecting again.
7) I dropped out of school when I realized that the environment was toxic, but didn’t allow it to stop me from learning.
8) I survived being homeless.
9) I got to know me, slowly but surely, and I didn’t compromise myself. If I was in a situation I didn’t like, I did whatever I could to get out of it. Granted some of the ways I did this were not always beneficial, but I would allow no one to brow beat into being something I wasn’t.
10) I learn. Everyday I willingly open my mind to knew things, and learned to think rather then just parrot things I’ve heard.
11) I never did crystal, E, cocaine, heroin, Special K, GHB or any other ‘party drug.’
12) I also never thought that never doing any of the party drugs made me better then anyone else.
13) I have made amazing friends, met beautiful people, and let everyone who touched my life teach me something new.
14) I have given people second chances, even when all would say they didn’t deserve them, because I think it’s important to believe that people can change.
15) I am surviving depression.

Maybe to some people these things seem unimportant, maybe not much of an accomplishment. After all, I didn’t list getting a degree, or making accomplishments in a career. But I can’t measure my accomplishments and successes with other people’s standards.

What I have done and what I have gone through in my life, was not easy. I need to stop telling people that it was nothing, that it wasn’t easy or hard, because I have nothing to compare it too. Because it was hard. It was really fucking hard.

So yes, I have accomplished a lot in my 28 years on this Earth, and with everything I’ve gone through I know I can and will do so much more. And I plan to.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”
- Albert Einstein

You

Yes, you.

You, who cuts yourself. You, who cries yourself to sleep every night. You, who is so tired of being strong and brave. You, who attempted to kill yourself. You, who had to drop out of school because of the bullies. You, who had to leave home because of the abuse. You, who is surviving from sexual assault. You, yeah you, all of you.

Except you, I have something else to say to you. . And you? Of course I didn’t forget you, hold on, because I have something really important to say to you.

I want you to know how amazing you are. I want you to know that I see you. I see what other’s don’t, I know how brave and strong you are. You think no one really understands, and you’re right. No one really does, because what you’re dealing with is unique to you. .

Seriously, you’re amazing. Each and every day is torture, I get it. The sheer will power it takes to get out of bed. To not want to reach for the scissors and slit your wrists, or down that bottle of anti-depressants in hopes that it will end the suffering.

I could sit here and tell you it gets better, but I’d be lying. Because I don’t know if it does. I’m still trying to figure out when ‘it’ is supposedly going to get better. But I can tell you one thing, it gets a bit easier. But that doesn’t matter to you, or to me really, because what matters right now, is today, because you, and me? We both need to figure out how to get through this alive.

I’d offer to be your bridge over troubled water. But truth be told? The best I can offer is a rickety old raft. But if I tie my raft to yours. And then we tie our raft to yours. And you? You have that kayak, we’ll tie to that too. Sure, we can tie on to that paddleboat...

Pretty soon, together we’ve built that bridge, and we can only do it together. It might look a bit weird, but it’ll get us to the other side. We need to stop thinking so much about it getting better tomorrow, and we need to make it better for ourselves today. There is love out there for all of us, from our families, the one’s we’re born into or our chosen ones and most of all from each other.

Now you. You who kicked us when we were down. You, who called us names and told us how worthless we were. You, who told us we’d never amount to anything?

From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that things are so bad for you that you need to take it out on us. It breaks my heart to think what you might be going through, that makes you think it’s okay to do what you’re doing.

I offer you an olive branch. I want to tell you that you can make it better today as well. I want you to know that you are loved, there are many people that love you want to help you get through what you’re dealing with as well. Really, all you need to do is ask. What you’re dealing with is scary, and you need to put on this act because of how terrified you are, but it’s not you. I know, I can see you.

Finally to you. You, who is with us no longer.

To you I say, with all of my heart that you are loved. I want you to know that you will not be forgotten. You need to know that you have touched many lives, and left behind a hole in my heart, and to the others that loved you. But most of all, I hope, with all of my heart and soul, that you are finally at peace from the torment you went through. You were brave and strong until the end, but I understand how tired you were. Rest my love, you deserve it.

“I find my greatest strength in wanting to be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave. I don't know if I've ever realized it before,[...] I think we both realize it now. If there's no feeling of fear, then there's no need for courage.”
― David Levithan, Boy Meets Boy

Channeling the anger into the blog.

Update 11/03/11 - I was thinking about deleting this blog, because of how personal I went here, and how angry I was when I wrote it.   But I think that sends the wrong message.  This blog is here to help me work through my issues, and this was a very big issue.

I am still very much angry at the way things went, but I can look back on it 5 months later and understand why things went the way they did.  I am not absolving HIM for the way he treated him, but I can understand there were things I did wrong as well.

So if you choose to read this, understand that I was in a pretty raw emotional state when writing it. But I am on the mend. :) 


I’m livid, angry, enraged, frustrated, insert whatever word you want for it here. I have been filled with it for weeks, and all I want to do it lash out. Lash out at him for the way he made me feel.

It started in February, he found me on a social website for gay men. We talked sporadically at first. In fact, I wasn’t even all that interested in him at first. But as the e-mails started to become more and more frequent, and we started talking more and more. In fact we talked for hours pretty much every night from March to the end of April.

In March, before we had even met, I had really started to develop some really intense feelings for him; feelings that scared the shit out of me, someone who hadn’t dated since he was a teenager, actually being interested in someone.

I don’t do relationships, not because I don’t want one, but because I have never had any sort of decent model to base a relationship on. I don’t know how to do them, and after having my head fucked pretty hard core by some guys when I was young, I just stopped being interested in guys that were attainable. Every once in a while I’d allow myself to have a crush, but until HIM, all of them were completely unobtainable.

Now, with HIM, I decided that honesty was the best policy. From the very beginning I was completely upfront with him. I told him I was developing feelings for him and that they were scaring the hell out of me, and I needed to know if there were any feelings in return. I wasn’t trying to push it into anything that it wasn’t, well okay, maybe a bit, but he assured me that the feelings were reciprocated and I could just relax about it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t relax. HIM kept saying all the right things, when I told him I had been raped, in a conversation that was more like verbal diarrhea, I apologized to him for telling him, and that he didn’t need to know. Which he responded with, “If you want to talk, I want to listen.” I told him about the fact that I had done sex work when I was younger, and told him about a part of my life that so very few people know. He was cool, and he listened, and laughed when he was suppose to, offered support when he was suppose to. So yeah, all the right things.

So all my walls started crumbling for him. Now instead of this making me more relaxed, I grew more and more stressed out by the situation. Not to mention that he came around at a point in my life that I was completely and utterly isolated socially, that made my insecurities ten fold, so that really didn’t help things out all that much either.

So I started to get a bit to use by the constant contact, and I sort of internally freaked out when he got really busy. He was pretty much the only person I was talking to for a few months while living in Oshawa. I had no real friends in Oshawa, not really. And I found it very difficult to get involved in a gay community where everyone knew and loved my mother (which is a whole other blog post on it's own). I basically was online all the time.


HIM and I had gotten together twice, both times we acted like a couple. We went out for dinner, drinks, he played the guitar for me. We had pretty amazing sex. I made him dinner. He kissed me good bye by his car, or the second time, on the subway. I thought things were going very well.

But then they weren't. Apparently he resented the level of contact that I wanted, and pretty much insinuated I was a stalker. I will admit that I probably pushed the envelope a little too much here, I really liked him and dare i say, falling in love with him, and was excited to talk to him whenever I could. So I was a bit hurt by this, but I understood where he was coming from.

But then he said that he just wanted to be friends from the beginning. And that he was completely clear on that from the start. He told me all of this because he thought it was respectful to be upfront with me about this. He told me he was sorry that I misunderstood him, and that he was sorry that I took liberties with what he said. Then I just felt like a fool.

Now this was a month ago, why am I still angry about this? Because I had to contact him recently to get something back from him, that I have had to chase him about. First he told me he'd send it when the strike was over, then I tried to get an update out of him when the strike ended. That took 6 days to do, then he told me he'd send it the next day, then he told me he had a busy day. Finally I told him to forget about it, I was sick of chasing him and him stringing me along. I also said some other pretty bitchy things in that e-mail, but I don't regret it.

It ended up with him telling me that he send the goddamn package and to please stop messaging him. Which I replied with a curt go fuck yourself, and blocked him and deleted every message e-mail and message between him and I.

Am I at fault here? Yeah, sure I am, there's more then enough blame to go around, and I will take my share of it. I certainly came on too strong, but I told him from the very beginning that I probably would. But whatever, it is what it is.

What pisses me off, is that once again I was lied too. Once again people decide i'm not worth being honest too. My walls crumbled down for him and he pissed on the rubble. The walls are being built back up now, and I don't think they'll ever be coming down again.

Stop Telling Me What I Would Choose

I am so sick of the "Is being gay a choice or not" argument. Because first of all it doesn't matter. What difference would it make if I chose to be gay or not? Seriously, how does it effect your life?

Now for me personally, the only choice I made was to live honestly. I chose to come out and be honest about who I was. Now, I have known both men and women who adamently say that they did choose to be gay. So who am I to invalidate them? Who am I to say they're kidding themselves, that they didn't choose this? If they said they chose this, they chose it. End of discussion.

I also can't stand the argument of, why would gay people choose to live a life where they're bashed and bullied. Whether I was gay or not, I was going to be bullied in high school. Regardless of the junk I wanted in my trunk, I was different, and at my high school that was not a good thing.

And you know what? If someone told me today that there was a pill or a therapy that would 100% cure my homosexuality, giving me the choice to be gay or straight, I'd tell that person to fuck off. I'd choose to be queer I never found acceptance or love until I came out and found the LGBT community. I never found a community that accepted me for who I am until I met my Lesbian Aunties. The Queer community also helped heal the relationship between my mother and I, and now we both do work to end homophobia. It also helped me cut out poisonous ignorant people from my life.

So don't argue that I wouldn't choose this, because that's just dismissive of everything I went through. So get off your high horse, and realize that whether it's a choice or not, it doesn't fucking matter.

Another Coming Out Story

So Out With Dad is calling for submissions, if you haven't watched the web series, go do so. Anyway, I submitted before, and I wanted to tell a happy story, so I sent an edited version of Arms of an Angel. But they're looking for something that really shows the challenges of what gay people go through in coming out, so they're asking for submissions again. So I decided to write something with a bit more of a serious tone.

There's a lot of things that I'm touching on here, and I could go into a lot more depth on a lot of them. But it's for a monologue in a web series and I'm sure they don't have the time to read a novel. So I cut a lot out and just tried to touch on some major point.

Anyway, here's the unedited version of what I wrote. I'm in the process of editing my story now and going to submit it today.


There’s a PFLAG mom in Oshawa, she gets up almost every month and tell her story of her son, and how she’s the bravest person she knows. Most of the times she says it with tears in her eyes, knowing what he’s gone through, and truly and honestly admiring him for coming out on the other side of it.

That PFLAG mom is my mom. I’ve gone to meetings with her a few times, and to be honest her story makes me uncomfortable. Because I don’t feel brave or strong most of the time, in fact, a lot of the time I feel pretty much the exact opposite.

I’m the poster child for every case study out there that says that gay men are the product of absent fathers. My parents divorced when I was very young, but even when they were together my father had made it quite clear to me that he had no use for his younger son. He already had my older brother to teach baseball to, and take camping, I wasn’t necessary. I was an accident. He made that abundantly clear.

But I never stopped trying, I tried to take interest in my family history, if I can’t be the rough and tumble boy he wants, then I can make myself an academic. Finding out things like when our family farm was founded, and that it was actually named “Fernhill”, looking at old family trees and such.

But nothing I did was good enough.

As a teenager I started to come into my own, I started discovering who I was, and stopped trying to impress the people around me, who would never be impressed no matter what I did. A lot of the compassion I had as a child started turning off, because I just didn’t have the energy to care about people, when I never felt cared for back.

Then I discovered what gay was. I discovered that it was okay for boys to like boys. Or at least, some people thought that was okay.

Apparently my dad didn’t think so. Because after I came out to him, the next weekend I spent at his place, he came home absolutely plastered and decided that he would try to beat it out of me.

I got away after that, I got myself back to my mom’s and step dad’s and I ran off. I ended up on my own at 17, or rather I found myself adopted by the queer community at the University of Guelph. I ended up living with a bunch of students, who opened my eyes to so many things. Who tried and succeeded in a lot of ways of created a family for me when I never really had the sense of one. Having my first birthday party thrown for me when I turned 18, to having sedars on Passover, even though I wasn’t Jewish. For the first time feeling a sense of togetherness, to quote RENT, “to being an us for once”

I wish I could tell you that that was my happy ending, but it wasn’t, things got good for a while, but they didn’t stay that way. I started cutting and had even attempted suicide. You’d probably ask why I’d do that? And there’s a whole list of psycho babble I could give you here, but in the end it boils down to, I didn’t know how to be happy.

I suppose I still don’t. I feel like I’m constantly running away from things, living pay cheque to pay cheque. Being happy, it’s something that a lot of people take for granted, because to those of us, that never learned how, getting out of bed each morning can be a struggle. I mean, a lot more happened to me then just that, I wish I could say it was my one and only time that I was beaten for being gay. But, it’s not. It happened again about two years ago, when I was trying to forgive my father and have a relationship with him again.

But in the end, I survived, or rather, I’m surviving. Most days I feel like my head is hardly above water. I try to throw myself in the community, to make sure that no one ever has to feel like I did, or like I do. To educate people that us queer folk are not sub human, in hopes that some one else can benefit.

Most days the idea of having to come out to one more person makes me want to scream. To have to tip toe around people that I meet at work, or wherever else until I know that they can accept it. Well I don’t do that anymore, again, I stopped caring, maybe that’s a bad thing, and maybe it’s burned bridges for me, or makes me seem weird, but if I’m going to make this work. If I’m going to ever be happy. I need to live my live unapologetically. I am not going to stand idly by and let people dictate how I should behave or live my life. There’s a learning curve to this I suppose, but I hope I’ll get it eventually.

So back to my mom, I guess she is right. I guess I am brave. I suppose I am strong. And I hate to end this on a quote, because really that seems a bit ostentatious, but it sort of sums it up. “I find my greatest strength in wanting to be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave.” So I suppose I find my greatest hope, is hoping it get’s better. I guess I find is that the only way to do any of this, is to make it better, for myself and for my community.

((Quote is from Boy Meets Boy – by David Levithan.))