I was angry. I was confused. I felt like the world was nothing but unjust, cruel, and spiteful. I was asking questions like, "Why should I be forced to figure out who I am?" and "Why should I have to do all this soul searching?" I was angry because everyone else (i.e. a straight person) doesn't have to do this. I felt like no one, in a perfect world, should have to ever wonder who he is and why he is the way he is.
And this is true. To an extent.
Last night, I had the great privilege to talk to someone on the phone whom I met, or e-met rather, while on this whole crazy journey. His name is Chad (or Chadford or Chadston or Chadkin or Chadder...). Our stories are vastly different; I mean, this guy and I could not have come from more different places. And yet we are both facing the same essential questions: Who am I? And how do I fit into the Big Picture?
In a two-and-a-half-hour phone conversation with him, I went from skeptical, to incredulous, to amused, to surprised, to amazed, to profoundly touched. I wanted to hear his story. I wanted to get his perspective on what I have been going through. I wanted to hear first-hand what he has been going through and how he has gotten to where he currently is. At first, while I was listening to him, I thought, This guy is just too different from me. I can't even fathom some of the things he has gone through. We have lived opposite lives.
It was toward the end of our conversation. I had to covertly plug my phone in and lie on my stomach facing the charger because my phone was about dead and I didn't want to say goodbye quite yet. What follows is a paraphrase of the things he told me about my recent dilemma(s) with maybe a splash of my own commentary and elaboration thrown in. (Just imagine you're hearing a voice that sounds like a mixture of a delicate tenor opera singer and Dennis the Menace. Now picture a guy with a short-trimmed beard with splotches of brown and gray and eyes that wrinkle in the corners when he smiles. Seems incongruous? Yeah, I thought so too.)
"It's also kind of a blessing, though. I mean, it's a tough thing to have to ask oneself these kinds of questions, but think about how well we know ourselves compared to all those other people out there who take their personalities and place in the world for granted. The fact that we are aware of our 'differentness' makes us more self-aware. Starting from the ground up gives us the chance to really decide who we want to be and not what society expects us to be.
"Also, being 'forced' to ask oneself difficult questions allows one to be more empathetic to others, to appreciate others' struggles, and to see things from others' points of view. Having gone through so much intense soul searching, we can understand what makes others tick in a way that most others cannot. We are less judgmental and more accepting, less quick to anger, less apt to assume the worst. We understand that everyone has his or her own path to follow in life, and that not all paths will lead to the same place. So we should really be embracing the chaos!"
I don't know where I am with the whole religion thing, but one has to admit that the qualities just referred to are rather Jesus-like in nature. Realizing this made me start to think about the parallels with someone else who did an awful lot of suffering, but who was able to see the bigger picture and embrace that suffering, knowing that it would ultimately result in something that far surpassed what he felt at the moment. That someone didn't say, "It isn't fair that everyone else doesn't have to go through this too!" And, really, is there anyone else in history who was more empathetic and loving and accepting and humble?
So I got off the phone with Chad beaming and a little giddy. I picked up my copy of The Mayor of Casterbridge from the night stand, which I'm rereading, wrapped myself up in my favorite blanket (thank you, Kristen), and tried to unwind. But I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about how this thing that I have been having debilitating anxiety over for a week was, in a matter of a couple minutes, completely turned on its head.
I've been so doggedly focused on my perceived societal persecution, so obsessed with the unfairness of my gay life, so furious about having the past eighteen years of my life stolen from me, that I failed to notice the blessing that I've been given. (I've heard of blessings in disguise, but this blessing was wearing a REALLY ugly disguise.)
I may not be any closer to knowing this new iteration of me, but I know that this version will not only be new,it will also be vastly improved. He will be braver. He will be more secure. He will be able to handle life's many stresses and surprises. And he will he happier. So very much happier.
"Lead your way; sing your song. Movin' every day, goin' further on.
"Lead your way; keep on strong. Movin' every day, goin' further on."
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