Remade Frustration - Questions

My stomach hurts; what else is new?

OTR and I had a number of discussions after Prayers for Bobby on faith, and the Church, and everything else. Doubt is rampant. My testimony muddled. My confusion...unending.

I sit in Church every week and feel little, wishing to be elsehwere. Watching, listening, taking note. There are very few true Christians there. People going on and on and on about Nature of God this, I know Joseph saw that, but like Tommy says, how is that adding to their growth and movement in the Kingdom?

As I half-listened to the testimonies today, I thought about going up there. About talking about being a true Christian. About pleading with the people to return to "a hospital rather than Pebble Beach". But I didn't. Honestly, who would listen? 

Every day that Scot and Rob, and others, are prejudiced against, every day that Prop 8 creeps up in conversation, everyday people get in trouble for trying to make a difference, then what's the point? In Sunday School we were talking about "The True and Living Church" which my teacher hated, so she changed the title to "Church Organization ala Restoration" which I felt was much more fitting. We were reading in D&C 20 which is basically the Church's "Constitution" and outlines the formation of the Church, then goes into the Plan of Salvation. 

31 "And we know also, that sanctification through the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is just and true, to all those who love and serve God with all their mights, minds, and strength."

32 " But there is a possibility that man may fall from grace and depart from the living God"

33 "Therefore let the church take heed and pray always, lest they fall into temptation"

34 "Yea, and even let those who are sanctified take heed also."

I found the part about the church falling into temptation very interesting. Zion's Camp failed because of the dissidence and unbelief in the church, well, when I look around now, all I see is pride and self-righteousness. Sure, there's love and support, but honestly, deep down, I only remember one testimony today given where I said to myself, "That man is a Christian, and believes it."

This past weekend riled up a lot of thoughts in my mind. I went on the Father/Son campout, held on an island in the ocean, which was pretty cool. But I didn't relate to many of the men there; no, talking to the kids was far, far easier. None of the men made any effort to include me, or carry on conversation either. One man did invite me to sit down, and then about 6 minutes passed in silence, the two of us just sitting there. I've been having alot of doubts recently wondering about my future children and if I really want to bring them up in the gospel and the church. I mean, it's a great place, right? It protects them, and teaches them how to stay afloat in a drowning world, right? But I just don't know. One of the little 7 yr olds I befriended had on a bracelet that said "Future Missionary" and I just wondered. Is this right? Is this okay? Is this the way it should be? What does this boy whose head is already filled with dreams of being a great missionary bringing people to the gospel know of equality? Or true charity? Of undying, unbiased love? Anything?

I find myself growing more and more dissatisfied with the solitary stance that our Church takes. One of the testimonies that really bothered me this morning was a man who was going on and on about the misfortune in his neighborhood, and the economic problems, and the relationship difficulties, etc, etc, etc and then he went on to profess how blessed he was, how BETTER he was, just because he's a member of our Church. I was extremely bothered by that. And then as a ward today everyone was fasting for those who were struggling or having trouble, and I just felt like they were once again trying to assert their superiority because they have blessings and the others don't. Where's the Jesus Christ in that?

I've been fighting with my mom alot recently too, which hasn't helped me. Once OTR left I decided that the "remake" of myself lay in me and only me. I mean we wholly determine our attitude, circumstance, etc; that's why agency is so amazing and powerful. So that first day I woke up early, made my bed, cleaned my room, went for a bike ride, went swimming, took a shower, and felt really excited for the day. Then came the brushes with my mom, who for some reason has taking to picking at me. For the way I talk, the way I dress, she even yelled at me one evening for the way I was sitting on the couch. That really offed me. She goes on and on about respecting her, about this is her space, this is her house, and clearly, I have NO place in it. She cannot have respect for me and accommodate me within her threatened respect. So I felt shattered, and closed myself off in my room, since it's the only space I have here that's mine. Were moving possible, I would have already done it. Were going elsewhere possible, I would have done that too. But I have no one here; nothing. So I'm stuck. The next three days were spent in my room, behind a closed door, feeling completely unwanted and unwelcome. Then since I wouldn't speak to her, my mom took the fight to email. It was incredibly draining.

And just yesterday I went to the grocery store, and I believe this is partly due to watching all the little ones scurrying around at the campsite, but I'm becoming resigned, and it scares me. Utterly frightens me. I've been thinking about the future, and if we go into the Peace Corps, I'll get back and be almost 28. And then I started to despair. Be honest. I'm not going to have kids, am I? I'm already 25 and I'm not going to be one of those happy people married young with beautiful, hyper kids disrupting church meetings. I am beginning to accept the entirely disheartening reality that I will never have children of my own. People say that if you can dream it, you can do it... so where' my confirmation? Where's my solution? Why can't I have what I want most? Why am I denied such happiness? WHY DAMMIT?

Conference is looming on the horizon, and I'm scared out of my mind. This will be the first year in 7 that I'm not attending in person at the Conference Center. I have a friend in Michigan who keeps calling me, wondering why I haven't made "right" with the Church. When I was at BYU I made some mistakes, and if I'm honest, has compromised my Church worthiness, which is why I don't participate in anything, or use my priesthood ever. She's been waiting for a year now for me to get "back on the path" but I'm fairly certain that will lead to excommunication before I get my temple recommend back and can have fixed everything that I've broken.

I'm not even sure I WANT to. I don't know where I stand with the Church anymore, as alot of bloggers have been wrestling with as well. Are we wrong? Is this really the path to hell? Can I really turn my back on what I've believed for so long, so deeply? How many times have I wanted to before and failed? Will this be my breaking point? Why do I have to have such a conviction and surety? Why can't this just be easy, and I cut the ties and free myself from pain and guilt and suffering and prejudice? Damn this church for the beliefs it has given me. Damn this church for instilling them in me from my youth. Damn me for believing in them soul, heart, might, and mind.

So General Conference is coming, and I'm wondering what will be said. Will I feel sick like previous years? Will I cry? Will they address what I need them to? Will God finally talk to me through his chosen prophets? We sang "We Thank Thee O God For a Prophet" around the campfire on the trip, and I was hesitant. Then it was the closing song in Sacrament today, and I didn't sing. I DIDN'T. Because I don't know. Do I thank God for a prophet? Do I even believe in Thomas Monson as a prophet?

So I'm drowning, I'm breaking, my remake is shattered in pieces around me, and I'm beginning to give up on dreams that I don't see happening - even though I want them more than anything else on Earth.

And then I got to Priesthood. It was combined, unexpectedly, I guess the Elder's Quorum Teacher didn't show, and it was on hope. Which we had in Elder's Quorum about 4 or 5 weeks ago. But I guess I still need it. Hope. I hate hope. Just like I hate faith. Because they are part of the chains that bind me to truth, and peace, and love, and this damn church.

Proverbs 13:12 "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life."

How? How can I continue to hold on to that which drains the life from me and is filled with two-faced lying, hurtful people?

Albert Camus said, "In the depth of winter, [we find] within [us] an invincible summer." But I don't. I don't have that. I just have a flickering flame that's dying, that I sometimes wonder if I myself have blown out.

President Uchtdorf counseled in the last General Conference that "there may be times when we must make a courageous decision to hope even when everything around us contradicts this hope. Like Father Abraham, we will “against hope [believe] in hope."

That's all I have left.

I pray fervently that Conference will not destroy me further. But it may be the final decider where my feet next take me. And that, is soooo scary.

Prayers for Myself

It happened. I can't believe it finally happened. I've been trying since I got here for my parents to sit down and watch Prayers for Bobby with me. I think it partially due to the fact that OTR is here it actually happened, otherwise they would have found more excuses or reasons not to. My dad was supposed to be doing Board of Reviews for a bunch of Scouts tonight, but he got a sub so that he could be here for this. Thanks Dad!

Before I go into tonight, I want to take a second to talk about the First time I saw Prayers for Bobby. I borrowed my Grandfather's car to drive down to Salt Lake where I met D, Scott, Sarah, and their kids. We stopped at McDonald's on the way up, and poor Sarah spilled water :( But it only made me love her more. The frantic scramble and dashing about reminded me of my own parents, and of course - being the 2nd of 7 - and loving kids, I settled right in with Lil' S to play on his Leapster. He was so super cute. It started snowing pretty hard on the way up the canyon and we got a little nervous, but Scott was an amazing driver and got us there in one piece. When we turned on our tv at the cabin we found out that our rush hadn't done us any good because it had already started! Oh no! I was devastated. But luckily, it was going to play again right after. So we played with the kids for an hour and then settled in.

Prayers for Bobby was indescribable in its impact and profundity. As mentioned last time, I cried so hard my stomach hurt. The movie was perfect in every way, and I related with Bobby as I have not to anyone since reading My Name is Asher Lev. Gut-wrenching, heart-rending complete relation. His pain was my pain. Even tissues weren't enough.

I've expressed this before, but I'm going to do it once more: Thank you Scott and Sarah so much for that night. You may never understand just how much it meant to me. Then when we went back of course the snow got worse, and I "tragically" had to stay an extra day and play with their kids. I also got invited to family dinner, which proved to be awkward and a bit discriminatory, and prompted Scott to send a letter. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed my weekend and will be eternally grateful to both Scott and Sarah for their love and assistance.

Now then. Scott gave me a copy of the movie right before I came here, and tonight we finally sat down to watch it. Tonight was the night because the kids are all gone at Scouts, Mutual, or work. But we didn't have a full 95 minutes, which is how the long the movie was. So we wanted to have it set up beforehand. The dvd player wouldn't read, but the disc worked great on my laptop. So then my lil bro set up the playstation and it loaded the play screen. We thought everything was great, but when my dad finally got home, and the kids were off, the disc would say read error anytime we clicked play. Agh. 

So we ended up watching it on my laptop. 4 people huddled around, lol. But it turned out okay. I bawled as much as last time, and OTR was right there with me - she actually cried even harder, if that's believable. 

My mom HATES HATES HATES sad movies, and I had warned her beforehand, so I'm so grateful to her for sacrificing and watching it with us. She didn't cry (that I saw) like OTR and I sobbed, but it still had some impact. When it was over she said, "You were right. That was a really sad movie." That was about all she said, then withdrew. But I didn't expect anything more from my mom. She takes a while to process and open up. I'm hoping for more conversation in the near future with her. Oh! I almost forgot. I knew she was enjoying it to some extent (my mind had only pictures of them being scathed and offended by the club scenes or the kisses) because with 20 minutes left we had to pause the movie because the kids were done at the church. There was a brief chat of who would go and who would stay, and my mom voted my dad since OTR didn't know how to get to the church. Then as soon as he got up, she said, "Okay, continue. Don't leave me hanging." 

When my dad got back with the kids, things progressed as normal until they were all in bed, then he came to my room to watch the last twenty minutes. When it was over, he said, "Powerful message." Then he just kind of sat there in silence, and I could tell he was thinking, so I bit. 

Me: "Penny for your thoughts? Here, I'll even give you a quarter." He didn't take it, but he did smile then said he didn't really have any coherent thoughts just then, but that he did take away this: 

"Sexual orientation doesn't determine a person's worth, they're still a person."

Then he went on to explain it was like Mary had said about people born with no arms who get ridiculed or discriminated against. He even mentioned curly vs straight-hair people. They didn't choose that, that's just them. I almost burst smiling, because this level of acceptance was never anything I'd heard him say before. But I had to know more, so I asked: "But are all they ALL things you can accept outright?"

He didn't say yes right off, but dodged a bit. He said, "You can accept, like understand and love, but that doesn't mean you embrace." Because apparently embracing me is too much to ask...my burst of smile was quickly snuffed out. However, I refuse to give up. I still hope deeply for the day when my parents can be like Mary and be proud of my difference. 

He continued, "Accept is like being indifferent about it." He thought a second, then amended, "But at least it's not rejection."

Me: "But I think indifference is worse." (ie, more painful, hurtful, etc.)

Dad: "Yeah, I can see that. It doesn’t give you anything to fight for or against. It just is." It really doesn't. To me it's almost as effective as being ignored. I'd rather you outright reject me than keep around and just be 'meh' about it. I think that the line that still has the greatest impact on me is when Bobby's sister tells him she won't ever change and that he won't ever be welcome at Christmas or Thanksgiving with a boyfriend. That's still how I feel with my family, though I give them credit for not trying to bury me in religious healing. 

Dad: "I don't know though that I can agree with what Mary tried to say about knowing from the beginning. I didn't." My inital thought was that he just didn't want to and that's why he says that. I also called him out by saying, "So when I came out to you, it took you completely by surprise?" 

He relented that no, he knew then, but if we went back to when I was a kid he wouldn't have guessed, or expected it. Which is funny to me, because my brothers totally saw it way back then. And I definitely wasn't ever interested in sports or anything uber-macho like that. 

Me: "I knew when I was 11. It’s in my journal. I wrote about it. But I sure as hell wasn’t telling any of you, because I felt just like Bobby. You’d hate me, reject me, kick me out, call me Evil. So I buried it. Deep as it would go. Ran and ran and told myself it wasn’t true. Me? I’m not gay. Until on my mission it came back full force to slap me in the face. And then when I got home and moving on to the next 'phase of happy mormon life' wasn’t working... I decided to be honest. Completely. Get out the box and bring it forward and accept myself and that's what I did." It was neat to be able to color in just a few more of the black spaces in my life for my dad so he had a more complete picture of me. He knew about my experiences on the mission, and after, from our summer together in '06, but didn't know anything before that.

His last comment was: “Good story.”

Me: “Yes. And a true one.”

Dad: “One that’s happened probably hundreds or thousands of times.”

Me: “Almost hundreds and thousands plus one.” That kinda hit him, and he looked at me somewhat surprised.

Dad: “Well, I hope you stay with us.” I shook my head. 

Me: “There’s nothing to worry about anymore.” (Just a lot more work to be done between us).

Dad: “Good. You still have a lot of stories to write.”

Then he left. I wasn't impressed; mom and dad didn't hug me and say sorry at all, but honestly, I don't feel letdown either. I feel like after it was over we didn't really dig into the issue like I'd wished, but part of that was because I was comforting OTR. By the end of the movie she was inconsolable, and seriously cried at least a half hour after it was over. She just didn't think that it was fair so many people had to hurt so badly, and we make it worse for them by our hate and discrimination. We had a good chat about that and how it's not fair for her to say that her pain has been any more or less than ours; she's been through her share of hell too. She's taking time now to question her faith in hopes of finding the deeper faith that Reverend Whitsell spoke of. 

My response to her, my father, and Mary is this: 

I will not give up on love. I think every time before I say Amen, and definitely always listen. My dreams won’t die. I’ll carry them on for Bobby and anyone else who didn’t get the chance.

Most of all though, like people who feel the utter need to bear their testimonys for fear of being ungrateful to God, I must cry out from every fiber of my being: Thank you Mary Griffith. Thank you Bobby.

Continuance

I have alot to say... I just don't want to. 

I'm debating, toying, mulling on what to do with this blog. Should I make it public? Delete it? Continue on with the two active readers I've still got? Sigh.

I got hit by a car, and I'm sick of talking about it, so if you don't know, that's all you're gonna get. Sorry.

So now I'm back in Florida, at my parents. Reliving the summer of 06. Except this time I can't walk, so in some ways it's worse. I don't know. My parents took steps back then to accept and understand, but often, it still seems like nothing is different. 

One of the first nights I was here, I asked my dad if one of my uncles knew about me. When he got what I was talking about, he was like, "Oh, you mean your leaning." 

Excuse me? My Leaning? My inclination? The way that I have decided to move myself? I was so incredibly insulted by his comment. I couldn't believe after all that we've done that he would still say something like that. 

Since coming here Feb 13th, I've tried to get my parents to watch Prayers for Bobby with me, but with no luck. They just avoid. Put it off. Make an excuse. When I saw it with Scott, Sarah and D it was INCREDIBLE. I cried so hard that my stomach hurt after. Prayers for Bobby is just BEAUTIFUL. And I want my parents to see it. I want them to understand more. To understand better. To reopen the discussions that I die to have, and they avoid. 

And yet, as mad as I get at my dad... he does great stuff too. He built me a desk. He pulled me around the neighborhood in the little red wagon. He totally bought me an 8-pack of "contraband" soda pop I've been craving that my mom would never ever buy. 

The good and the hurtful mix together and I no longer know how to look at him. Do I give him credit? Do I hate him for being so hurtful? Do I just write him off as imperfect? But in which direction? 

It's just confusing, tiring, and still, even after all this time...painful.

Resonance

I... I can't stop watching.

I've watched this 25 times now. I just hit replay over and over and over. I haven't seen it yet and I've already cried. I want to see this more than anything else I've ever wanted to see. 

I just... 

"Accept me as I am or forget it."

"I won't have a gay son." 

"Then mom, you don't have a son."

"Fine."

...this is my story. 

And I want more than anything to see it. Is anyone in Utah DVRing this? Want to kidnap me for the weekend so I can watch it with you and cry?

BEING ME IS SO HARD.

Reflecting Pool

I'm at the airport. On my way home. 

My trip this year has to be voted better than years previous. 

I can confess that I had fun. I enjoyed myself. I didn't look at porn once (which I am particularly proud of, since all previous trips have included nightly self-destructive behaviors). I didn't keep my room very clean (which I'm NOT very proud of). I didn't think of committing suicide even once.

I got a tan.  :)

There were bumps and rough times, but overall it ended up being a decent stint. 

Knowing the uncertainty that I'm returning to, I actually spit last night that I'd rather stay in Florida with my family than go home. Which is... unthinkable. But true.

Half of me even wants to move home (but not live AT home)...

When I was on my way here, I professed the desire/need for something, anything to be different.

I'm chalking it up to the fact that I got out of the house this time. It was not all sitting, all waiting, all video games, all StarCraft (though we did that, but moderately, which I'm fine with). I played frisbee. I went geocaching. I went skateboarding. I went to the beach. I went to rock climbing. I played Sardines.

And now... back to uncertainty. Can I get a new job? Can I keep living where I am? If I can't, where do I go? What do I try next? Where should I apply? Everyone wants me. Everywhere. 

I have more to say. But I'm not ready yet.

HELL

It's happening. Same as always. Breakdown, sick feeling, system shutdown, I just want to not be here anymore. I hate this place and it's pretty damn good at hating me back...

There is one small difference. I've come to a realization. A weight has been lifted. 

It's NOT MY FAULT. I'm not the broken one here. It's everyone else. My parents are fighting. In my 25 years of life I don't remember them ever fighting. But they haven't spoken to each other in 3 days. I fail to comprehend how this is possible. You sleep in the SAME BED for God sakes. How can you sleep with hatred boiling against the one next to you? Whatever happened to the counsel of never going to bed angry at your spouse? There doesn't seem to be an end in sight either. It's disconcerting, heartwrenching, and HELL. I love my family because they are a base, a support system for me when I am in trouble. But I look at them now and see only broken pieces. They are broken.

My little brother is annoying. He and my older sister are constantly fighting. And when they aren't my 2 sisters are fighting or he's bickering with my little brother. And my younger sister is amazing at bitching about everything. Sometimes my brothers even fight. It grates on my nerves like cheese. 

Today my mom came to me and yelled at/confronted me about a christmas ornament that fell off the tree 3 days ago (my fault). Now it got broken somehow (NOT my fault) and she's blaming it on me. She came outside where I was working a puzzle to avoid interacting with the people who can't do anything without squabbling and just about threw it at me. She did raise her voice and she did call me stupid to my face for not picking it back up because I have no "common sense." Her comments were mean, uncalled for, and they sent me into complete shutdown mode, which OTR witnessed because I was talking to her on the phone when my mom appeared out of nowhere in cyclone anger mode which she has been in since midway through Christmas day. The shutdown was unwanted, but also unconscious...it just happens. I was quite pleased with how I conducted myself. I didn't get mad, I didn't raise my voice back, and I remained civil, though I maybe shouldn't have quipped, "So you're going to hate me forever now also?" to which she did not respond.

Realizing that it's not me, and that it's them, has raised a lot of questions. Do I even love my family? When they act inappropriately toward me and speak to me in demeaning ways, is that somewhere I even want to profess love? Should I withdraw from them completely? Are they even worth investing my love in? The familial bond is strong and makes me want to, but now I'm doubting. My mom has vowed based on the drama explosion that was Christmas that she will NEVER get over what happened, and for the last three days I have watched hate, rage, and anger bubble in her heart and soul and pretty much consume her. I know for a FACT that she is using anger as a shield against the pain that she feels, but she has really just been a beast since Christmas. Originally, the morning after she got mad I tried to reach her in her pain, but was rebuffed and pushed away. At one point I asked casually if she was going to get a divorce...and she wouldn't answer. When she almost broke down bawling, I tried to give her a hug and be supportive and she yelled at me to just "leave her alone." I want to help, but now that she's turning her anger on me I'm shutting down (I don't do rejection, let alone being demeaned) and I don't know what to do. I do so much to help others, I love unconditionally, but this? OTR says it's because I'm strong. Well I am but still, no offense, God really sucks sometimes. My parents? I'm supposed to come between the two who are supposed to be one and patch and fix and mend and heal? Why the hell is this MY calling? No one else gives a damn enough to even try, but honestly...this could actually break me.

My lil bro has an apartment this year and he cut out yesterday when it all got to be too much for him to handle. He's offered to let me escape there, which is becoming more and more appealing the more consumed my mother is, but I don't want to abandon my other siblings.

I don't know what to do. Other than cry, and try to stop feeling sick. Not my fault, not my fault. Was it any of the other years? Or is it trying to function in a broken environment that cripples me everytime? 

9 days... God that's too long.

Homecoming.

I'm scared sh*tless. 

I'm going home. And much as I love my family, that ALWAYS = HELL.

When I go home, I do not go to friends. I do not go to a place a love. Only the people I care about most. My parents moved in 2002, and I have hated Christmas since. That's why I only go once a year. Because that's all I can take, and usually, it still ends up being too much.

Since coming out, things have only gotten worse. And worse. And worse. This is NOT my home, it is just where my parents are. There is no one here but them, and when I want to run, I have nowhere to go. I endure, I try, but somehow, something always ruins me. 

The normal Christmastime visit usually involves little-to-no-sleep, crippling depression, lack of eating, lack of desire to do anything, at least 2 fights, me wanting to die numerous times, and hours and hours and hours (read: days) of mindless game playing to try and hurry time up so I can go home again and back to my life.

Stagnant. 

That is how I have always described my Christmas visits. And those are the ones that don't involve fighting, misunderstanding, or the like. I love my family to death, but I hate that place. Last year I went for 10 days and came closer to suicide than I have ever been. It was just that bad. 

No matter how hard I try, that place is only associated with bad memories. Fights. Tears. Pain. 

Anger. I am a very nice person, and I don't get mad. Like ever. But whenever I do... it's B A D. People get hurt. Things get broken. Last year I smashed my laptop screen to smithereens. On accident. That only made me more angry and despondent. I hate going home.

This year, I'm praying desperately that something will be different. That somehow they will understand me better. That I can discuss how I feel, and my struggles with being a gay Mormon without it devolving into fighting. 

Please God, this is my prayer to you, that somehow - any way possible - this trip, this visit, this year... that it will be different. Please God.

Maybe.

I cried tonight. 

I have no idea why. All of a sudden, I was just...crying.

It's so heavy sometimes. It pushes down on you. Yes, you can escape, you can lessen the impact - focus on other things, but it's always there. Aching silently.

I'm totally depressed tonight and I have no idea why. 

Maybe I'm hurting for others. 

Maybe I'm hurting for myself. 

Maybe I'm lonely. 

Maybe I'm tired of not knowing what's happening next. 

Maybe I'm sick of no longer having a job that was supposed to be stable, and wondering when the power is going to get shut off as the snow keeps piling up. 

Maybe I'm done with waiting for paychecks that I never see, and unsure why I'm still here, but without direction in where I am needed, what I should be doing if my place is no longer here. 

Maybe I'm worn out from trying to reconcile two things that fit together only if you don't pay attention to the details, and choose to ignore the inconsistencies, the problems, the forfeits, and the cancellations.

Maybe I just needed to cry.

Runner-Up.

KUER's most recent radio show with Dan Fabrizio is out.

I listened to the whole thing. Why?

Because I was approached Elaine Clark, the Senior Producer of the show, to be interviewed for this segment. Apparently, one of my old professors name-dropped me to her, but gave her the wrong email. Then Elaine went to CLP, who had my right address, and we got in touch.

Most of the people on this bit were pretty high up, pretty important, pretty posh. So that's probably why I didn't make the cut. Elaine mentioned that she might not need me, if some of the other people came through. I'm glad to have been thought of though, and deemed important enough to have email correspondence with the Producer.

It, however, reopened the can of worms and pain I'm trying to close. My grandparents live in Logan, and I have countless friends and family in both SLC and Provo who do not know about me. And quite frankly, I know some of them would not understand if they did, which is why I have not told them.

This "opportunity" resurfaced my struggles from when we assisted in amending BYU's Honor Code back in 2007. I was in the thick of that one, and repeatedly got calls for interviews for everything from the Tribune to Sunstone. They even ran a blurb in TIME. Back then, I was still a student at BYU, and so there was still much more "closet" surrounding me, which resulted in most of the interview opportunities being refused to protect my anonymity. However, I am mentioned in "general" in many of the news articles (one of three who participated in discussions and the walk, yeah, me) surrounding the time, and talked with tons of reporters.

I think, overall, it's better that Elaine never called me like she said she would to pursue using me for this interview. I don't think I could have been anywhere near as emotionally composed as the people in this radio show were. Prop 8 hits home, and it hits deep. And I hate everything about it. Although, I think I would have done a much fairer job in fielding some of the questions presented in what seemed to me to be more of a one-sided conversation than anything else... but what can you do? It's conservative Utah :P

Oh, that and the fact that in her email to me she was told that I apparently supported Prop 8 and that's the angle she was really interested in. Well, I was. For like, a day? Yeah. But then there was more to the story, and I ended up nowhere. And wanting a gun.

I'm sick of all of this, and wish Prop 8, and hate, and bigots, and close-minded people, and riots, and violence, and fighting would all just go away. And that I could patch up the holes and wounds and lost friends and estranged family and broken pieces of my heart and just... stop... hurting.

Damn this almost-interview for just digging all of that back up again...

LOVE

Saw this quote today on my friend's aol icon:

"It's funny how someone can break your heart and you still love them with all the little pieces."

I couldn't find who said it, but rumor has it that it's from Twilight, in which case I'm going to be absolutely sick. Because I hate that book. And that crappy woman who can't write who authored them. Don't even get me started.

Anyway, that quote is how I feel about the church.

Why? Why can't I just fucking walk away?

Because of people. People like Young Stranger. And -L-.

I love them with every ounce of hate I feel.

I cannot give up.