I Am Not That Person

I have to break up with my girlfriend.

There, I said it. I feel like we all saw this coming. I even saw it coming. (I have a lot of things to say regarding this so hang in there).

First I feel really stupid thinking that something like this could work. I don’t even know if the word stupid fits the right feeling I have over the subject. It’s more of a ohmygod why did you do this to you and her?. That’s more of what I feel. I don’t remember the reason I even got back with her. I fell like all the reasons I have are very superficially over the surface. I was in a bad place, I was leaving a cult and I was damaged. Of course I needed someone.

I can see that she isn’t happy. We went out to the park for a walk yesterday which we talked mainly about how she doesn’t like how our relationship is at the moment. She said she feels really unhappy. I’m fine. I have no issues. Why does she feel the way that she does? Well, first because I am not in the same religion that she is in. Second because I don’t go to the parties that those same people in that religion usually put on. She feels lonely when she goes. There is a huge trust issue that she has which I think she inherited from her father. She gets anxious when I go out with my friends. Since my friends are also not in her religion she “hates them” and she also believes that they are the ones that have pulled me away from “God”. She thinks that it is because of them that I left.

I asked why she was with me if she was feeling this way. I want her to be happy, if by being with me isn’t going to make her happy she shouldn’t be with me. I told her, go find someone that believes the same things you do, go find someone that likes the same things you do, someone who will be in that cult with you and wont have any issues with it.

She said she likes me too much to let me go. I get that. If I were to lose her again I’d miss her, but like I said, I want her to be happy. I know that being with me she wont be. Plus, I want to be happy too. I don’t want to be nagged or feel uncomfortable that I’m hanging out with my friends. I want to go out and do stuff and not feel like I have to report to someone every single minute. Then there is my whole sexuality coming in the picture again, I just don’t think that I am attracted to her that way anymore. Which begs to question why was I back then? What was it that made me want her? Because now I don’t.

Yes, I understand what being in a relationship means. But I have repeatedly told her that I will not go back to the religion she is part of. I want nothing to do with it. I’m done.

And as bad as it sounds I’m over her. I like her as a person, she’s amazing don’t get me wrong. But she just isn’t for me. The spark isn’t there anymore and I don’t want to ignite it again. I have tried. I know who she is and I know her worth. And she deserves someone who will and can give her everything she needs.

I am not that person.

What I Wanted Was Love

When I was seventeen years old I had a huge crush on a girl. At the time it didn’t make any sense. I was confused, unsure of my sexuality and I had internal demons I was fighting apart from everything.

So I thought to myself, how it’s it that I am gay, but at the same time want to spend all my time with this girl? Talk to her, make her laugh, feel her body warmth near me?

Was it because I was not in fact gay? Was it just in my head? A “straight” phase? Was I trying to convince myself that I wasn’t actually what I thought I was? I remember when she would hang out with other boys, my head would boil. How were they more important than me? Who she talked to on a daily?

The first night I kissed her it was amazing. It was actually the first time I had kissed anyone. And of course we didn’t know what we were doing with it being our first time, but I enjoyed it. I was so filled with joy at the thought of thinking I wasn’t actually gay, because at the time I didn’t want to be.

I moved away and we somehow got distant. We soon broke it off. I was still on the mentality that I was gay. I cried for several days when we did end things. I did love her. I believed that I was gay because I followed the gay stereotype. I liked this and that, ok then I guess I’m gay.

As the years progressed I found myself having sexual relationships with men. It was good I’m not going to lie, no one on earth can say that any sexual act that is welcomed isn’t good. But at the end I felt guilty. Dirty even sometimes. Many times during sex I wished it would stop.

I have never been in love with a man. What I had fallen for before was just the thought if someone caring for me. Someone who could protect me from the dangers of life. But I became my own protected and this year is when I found out.

I’ll be candid for a second, once I saw myself as the person I am. I stopped craving a mans touch. Even just being with a man in the first place. And if I did, I wanted to be the dominant one. And I was many times. But soon even that wasn’t what I actually wanted. What I wanted was love. No hot steamy sex. Just plain simple love.

Did I find it? I’m not certain. I did meet a wonderful girl who takes my breathe away every day. Every time we talk it’s like we’ve known each other for ever. We have the same interests, the same dislikes, and even the same goals.

So am I gay? Straight? Pansexual? Can I just love someone for who they are regardless of their gender without being pointed at?

I told a friend about this girl I like last week. Her response was “no, you’re gay. You’ve been gay and you’ll always be gay.”

Is my sexual orientation Solemnly calculated with evidence from my past? Life changes, life changes us, we change as people, and along with that so do our desires.

I’m not saying I’m straight, sure I’m attracted to guys I will never deny that. But when I picture my future I always imagine it with a girl. And I’ve only had actually feelings for girls. I’ve only been in love with girls.

So what am I? I do not know. All that I know is that I just want to live my life, without people putting labels on things.

Gray Areas

Is it possible for a man who has in the past and present presented himself and or classifies as gay to catch feelings for a female?

This question has been at the top of my head for over a month now. And even though I have been dating men for a while now and I do find them attractive and I classify myself as a gay man, I have built up feelings for one of my friends who is a female.

Long story short, I’m in a wedding this upcoming weekend and I will be dancing for the bride and groom. They partnered me with someone I’ve known only by face and namely my church. Obviously when you have someone so close to you and spend hours practicing you get to know them.

Not many people know this but my first love was actually a female. Also a childhood friend. I wanted to be with her, talk to her, hold her hand, hold her in my arms, and kiss her. But yet here I am classifying myself as a gay. My biggest question is what am I?

Here I am again, getting to know this wonderful girl, who has a huge heart and a beautiful smile. I talk to her everyday and it comes so naturally. All these years I walk around thinking I like guys and guys only. Then again I’ve been taught to grow up and marry a woman, so that also makes me overthink these feelings.

Do I like her because I was taught to? Or do I really like her? What do I classify as? Am I gay? Am I bisexual? One of my friends said I might be pansexual. Could that be so? Am I attracted to personality above the physical or gender? How can I be so sure that I am one thing and not the other?

Why do we even have to be labeled in these boxes? Why do we have to identify as anything? Why can we not just like what we like and not feel bad about it?

I know people have so many options over gender identification and sexuality. And I know they want it all to be black and white. But it’s not, it’s really not. There are so many gray areas. It’s not just you’re a guy you like girls or you’re girl you like guys or guys with guys and girls with girls, love is love is it not? Love sees no gender? Love is not about sex, it’s about who you love, who you want to spend your time with, and the rest of your life with.

My Story

             I have been putting a lot of thought into whether or not I should write this. I came to the conclusion that I should. Not because it has ‘‘gotten better”, but, because I feel like I just need to get it out of me. I feel that if it comes out, even in writing, it will be out. It’s not an easy matter to talk about. And it took me quite a while to actually sit down and write about it. After I decided I would write about it, I procrastinated sitting down and actually doing. When you try to remember the past, and it’s not pretty, you can only take so much at a time. But here it is;

             I grew up in a religion where I was taught that taking ones life would result in disconnecting with God. In other words, it was like giving a back-handed slap to the face of God since he was the creator of life and was the only one who deserved to give and take of it. As a child I always wondered why someone would ever come to that terrible decision. It wouldn’t fit in my little kid brain why someone would just want to die. I heard of people killing themselves when I was young but I never fully grasped the meaning of it until I got older.

            I do now. Even though I’m writing this I can’t fully say that I am completely over self harming. I can’t say that I have no more suicidal thoughts. I have though, learned to control them.

             But how did it all start? Well, I never really knew I was different. Yes I remember buying sparkling shoes that I got made fun of because they were “girly”, but that had nothing to do with my sexuality. At least I didn’t think so. I just knew that one day I would grow up, marry, and have kids. That was so ironic seeing as I didn’t want to get married or have kids.

             Back to my religion though, I grew up in this religion where you had to live your life exactly how the Bible said you should. (Jehovah Witness). It isn’t as hard as people think it is. It’s not to bad, and maybe I would have had some great teen years if I hadn’t turned out to be fucking gay. That pretty much ruined my life. Not completely, but enough. It’s one of the main causes of my pain if I’m brutally honest. Still to this day.

             I hate when people say “it gets better.” No it fucking does not. It hasn’t for me at least. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself? But at the end of the tunnel I see no light, I see no fucking tunnel.  But then again, maybe that’s me getting ahead of my self and my “better times” have yet to come.

             Anyway, I was in and out of this religion. I would go with a passion and then I would hate it with a passion. I never really made up my mind. Not even today. Today I just go, not for me or anyone else but for my mom. It makes her happy that I’m there and that makes me happy.

             I “came to terms” with my sexually on Nov 17th of 2010. That’s the day that I said I’m Gay. Before then I had never actually said it out loud. I knew I was but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. Sometimes I thought I could change being gay, but it never worked. That was the actual first time that those words came out of my mouth. In that order, “I’m gay.”

             I remember going on-line and searching ‘Gay Jehovah Witness.’ I had the impression that I was the only one in this religion in the whole world who was gay. I was wrong. After looking past many articles that threw shade and dirt at JW’s for not accepting the gays, I found an article about Tim. He was also a JW. Grew up in the same religion and his father was actually an Elder (People who are like pastors). There was an email address and I emailed him. Telling him how hard it was for me because I was gay and I was scared to come out because so many people would be disappointed, and ultimately I would be disowned felt good. Plus, at that time I had no legal status so how would I even fend for my self?

             I loved my mother too much to break her heart that way. But Tim said it was all too much for him so one day he almost took his life, well actually tried but didn’t succeed. He said he had to change his life after he tried killing himself. He couldn’t take it any longer so he left the religion. I understand his decision. But I was not yet there (still am not) and even though it was extremely hard I still was not even close to the thought of taking my life. We would email back and forth and it was encouraging to have some one to talk to who understood. Then, he stopped.

            That crushed my heart. But I guess he got bored or maybe had more important things on his mind than helping out a seventeen year old across the world he didn’t even know. I knew was getting married and was moving so maybe that’s why but still, could have said something.

            Of course being in the religion that I was in and also being gay wasn’t going to work out. So I left. I stopped going and it broke my mother’s heart. I was still the same person nothing changed. I just didn’t act any more gayer. I didn’t go to pride. I didn’t hook up with every guy in town. I just simply stopped going to church. I was the same old me.

             I don’t know what made me go back. Maybe because I never found love? Or deep down I hated myself for being gay when I knew it was wrong? Not sure. But months when I returned in the summer of 2011, my uncle and aunt asked if we wanted to spend the summer with them.  (Take in mind that they too were JW’s). My brother and I said yes of course. They lived in our home town where I grew up and it was a beautiful town, I cherished that town.

             So I went to the congregation there. While I went there, I was being pressured into dating. Who I liked would always arise in a conversation. I finally gave in and picked someone. A girl I knew since I was little.

             It’s funny at the time I felt straight. Or possibly thought I could be. I can honestly say that I thought I was, right then and there. Deep down I knew I was gay, but I was faking it all so well that I almost started to believe it myself.

             The girl that I ‘liked’ had an ex boyfriend who was tragically messed up. I think he was bipolar. (Now I think I am). He once wrote the name of a girl on his arm with scissors. That didn’t surprise us because we kind of all knew he was cutting himself. Everyone told him to stop and they got him help. I thought that was ridiculous and immature not knowing that I would be following the same footsteps.

             Summer ended and the day after I left town I told that girl I liked liked her. She said the same thing but didn’t know if I felt the same way. How cute. Wrong. We soon started dating. Long distance dating. Wasn’t that cleaver? We broke up about seven months after. I was the one to end it. I told her I “needed time.” But the truth was that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Guys still would look appealing to me. I did love her though. I don’t know in what way. But it really hurt when we stopped talking. There was something missing in me now. She was my first love.

              From there it was just a spiral of hate. My life wasn’t going too well and I had to deal with the fact that I was gay. I played the happy guy for so long until I couldn’t take it. There was so much pain. I didn’t want to feel it. I was jogging that night. In our back yard. I was so overwhelmed that I just got on the ground and started crying. I was so mad on how my life was turning out to be. The next ting I knew I was picking up a rock and sliding it along my arm. It felt as all the pain was running out of the fresh wound.  For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel pain inside, I felt it on the outside. A minor distraction fooling my brain into a better state of mind.

            I didn’t think about it. Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like? Maybe I was curious? Maybe it was the feeling of wanting to touch fire but knowing you were going to get burned anyway. It was like that feeling you get when something isn’t working so you bang it on the side to make it work, like an old static TV. I knew it was wrong but I still did it. In a way it made me feel better. Like I was in control of the pain and the pain stopped controlling me.

             After that the thought of suicide would come and go for me. I always thought of ways I could end my life but I could never go through with them because I always thought of my mom and brother. Who would look after them? Who would protect them? Who would guide them? What would they do when I was gone? What would their reactions be? These questions only added to the already huge pile of stress I had. So it was more like a game. Did I want a painless death? Or did I want to feel pain? How did I want to be found? Who would find me? I am such an over analyzer that I was even over analyzing my own suicide! How pathetic. Well, I guess that’s why I’m still here, right?

             I got in to the habit of measuring how suicidal I felt. Some days it was 25% others it was 75%. When it was high I made sure I stayed away from sharp things because it seemed that I would go deeper. And in all of my scenarios, death in a pool of blood never seemed to suit me.

             One time, and the only time, I had been at 85% I  had self harmed my wrist really noticeable. I had to work the next day and a coworker saw. Her name was Jessica. She asked me what happened. I had wristbands on. Twenty One Pilots. I said nothing and just continued working like it didn’t bother me. She didn’t ask again. A month later I quit so I never saw her. She probably still works there. Her seeing my cuts didn’t make me quit.

             I’m pretty sure a lot of people noticed. I think Eli noticed once but never really paid attention or just waved it off, not sure if jenny ever did. I think Hellen did once, on my knee. She asked what where those scrathes I just told her I played to rough with my dog. Did anyone else say anything? No.

             I haven’t self harmed for almost nine months now. That’s only because I’m getting a tattoo removed and I read that having cuts or bruises will take the body’s focus away from helping eliminate the tattoo. I get an overwhelming urge but I always see my tattoo on my arm and how much I want it gone. At first it was hard to resist. But I soon got over it little by little. Hopefully I will never go back but that feeling will always be there.

             Maybe I’m bipolar. Maybe life as made me this way. Maybe I have made me this way. I see people go through shit and still have a smile on their face. Then again I don’t know what they do when they get home. Maybe they to self harm. In different ways. Drinking, smoking, hurting others. That’s the same as self harm. Inflicting pain somewhere else so the present pain will subside, but it never does, does it?

              So, that’s pretty much it. I am almost twenty-three years old and still haven’t come to terms with almost any part of my life. It’s weird. Because when I see a girl and I really like her personality I do think, wow she would make a great wife, or, I wonder what it would be like to date her.  So maybe I’m bisexual? Pan-sexual? It doesn’t really matter. My sexuality doesn’t defined me. Plus, would I even want to date anyone knowing all the shit my life as turned into? Yeah, they would have to be some type of super human to put up with me. Plus all the world wants is sex, and I just want to be held and taken care of.

Anyway there it is. The truth, raw, candid, and straight to the point.