The Void (Pt. 3 of Letters to My Ex)

This is the third and final installment of the Letters to My Ex series. I started to post these letters as a type of catharsis, and it's been working. Because I don't want to turn this blog into a memorial to the relationship, I will make this the last letter.

It's been a month since we've been apart, and the nights still seem terribly long without you. I know that you're probably having the time of your life, getting back out, and meeting new people like you love to do, and that brings me happiness and pain in equal measure. I wish desperately that I was at your side, doing those things, but I know now that you and I were just too different to make it.

So I am going to be happy for you. I'm going to be happy that you are now able to go out and be a social butterfly. I'm going to be happy that you will be able to pursue your dreams and wants, even if it's without me. I'm going to be happy that you can... be you. And I want you to be. I tried to "fix" something that wasn't broken, and you resented me for it, and rightly so. But now we're free of each other, and even though it's painful, I'm glad for it.

My therapist told me that I am in love with things that could be, that I adore potentiality, and that I'm constantly running. My entire existence is focused around the concept of, "To be is to do.", and I tried to bring that to our relationship. I tried to accomplish it, just like I try to accomplish everything else. And that's wrong. Apparently I still have a lot to work on, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the fortitude to realize that sooner and break it off. I miss you, but I'm glad that you're happy again. I hope to someday see you again, but until then, I hope that you're life is spectacular.

Remorse (Pt. 2 of Letters to My Ex)

As part of an ongoing effort for recovery, I'm publishing a series of letters I wrote to my ex during the immediate aftermath of the break up to today. Here is part two.

It's been three weeks now since we parted ways. I don't sleep well anymore, and the bed feels so big and empty without you beside me. But I've been wanting to hate you lately. I've been wanting to think that you're the worst person in the world, and I want to put you on the same level and Delores Umbridge. But I can't. I refuse to stoop to that level. We're both good people, just not good people for each other, and so as painful as this is and probably will continue to be, I know that this is for the best.

We had our ups and downs, but I think we finally got into a contest to see who could be the biggest douche bag... and I think I won. I desperately wish that we could roll back time so we could avoid saying such horrible things to each other. Where did we go wrong? What happened? We used to stay up, talking and laughing, but somewhere in there, the laughter died, and it became a chore for us to be around each other. I want to pinpoint that moment, but what good is it now? Distance is adding perspective, and I'm starting to realize how much we changed for each other, but I think it was change for the wrong reasons.

The night you broke up with me, you said that it was a miracle that we lasted over two years because we are such different people. I don't want to admit it. I want to cling to the rose-tinted view that love conquers all, but I know in my heart that that isn't right. You enjoy being an eternal socialite, and I get really anxious and uncomfortable in large groups. You're a video game lover, and I'd prefer to let me imagination run wild while I stare off into space. You want children and a family, and I want a career. It burns my heart to think this, but I'm starting to realize that you did the right thing for both of us, and you are the stronger between us. I was willing to keep subjecting us to the war of attrition that our relationship became, while you knew that it was wrong.

But why do I still want you? I know that you don't want me anymore, and that's ok. You need to do what's best for you now, just as I do. But I don't want to. I want to fight and make amends for everything. But I know in my heart of hearts that I need to accept this and move on. You can find someone who will make you happier than I ever could because they'll be able to hear the song that your soul sings.

You know, I've heard people bandy about the word 'remorse', but they don't have the slightest idea of what remorse feels like. It feels like rolling a boulder up a hill perpetually. It feels like all the joy has been sucked out of the world, it feels like the burning brilliance of the sun, laying bare the cold, hard truth. I miss you, and I hope that you'll find happiness.

Letters to My Ex Pt. 1

As part of my coping with the loss of my friend and lover, I'm going to publish a bunch of un-sent emails and letters. Here's the first.

I really hope you're doing well, and that you're happy. I miss you, more than usual today. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out, and I can barely breath. I miss Sunday mornings and late Fridays with you. I miss seeing you when I come home, and going on walks with you and Oscar. I miss the way you encouraged me when I was having a hard time with school, and I miss the way you would smile and laugh. 

Most of all, I just miss you, with your unpredictability, craziness, kindness, and occasional ass hole-ishness. You were my rock, and I will forever live with the regret that I was a fool and didn't see it. I am so, so sorry that I didn't see it before this, and I am so so sorry that I caused you to be so depressed during our relationship. I... just really fucking miss you. You're getting back to being the person that I fell in love with, and that makes it so much harder, because I didn't realize how much I was changing you, and now I think of you staying up till all hours, drinking, laughing, and having a good time, and that is who I fell in love with. 

If I could rewind time, I would. But I have to live with this now. I hope that we can someday be friends, but I know that we weren't good for each other, and we did our level best to destroy one another. I can't romanticize our relationship and forget the bad that happened, but I hope that you will someday find someone who hears your song. I do still love you very deeply. 

Shame on Georgia!

First off, I needed to take a little break. The full weight of being alone after 2 years of constant companionship hit me, so I stepped back from a great deal of my obligations. I needed to breath and actually re-asses where I am and where I need to go. It's been hard, but life marches on, and so I find myself back in the fight, swinging as best I can. So I'm sorry that I disappeared for a while, but it needed to happen, otherwise I may very well might've gone crazy. Now I find myself fighting off a cold, two weeks before I need to go compete for some debate teams I belong to. Ah well, such is life.

But as some of you may know, I am a Freemason. I adore the Fraternity, and I have near maniacal devotion to it because it saved me from myself. But that's not the point of today's post. Today's post is about the bigotry and nonsense coming from the Grand Lodges of Georgia and Tennessee. Now, to preface, in the U.S., there are 50 some odd Grand Lodges (State-wide governing bodies), and each one is autonomous and able to make it's own decisions. With that being said, let's jump in.

Freemasonry is supposed to take good men and make them better through philosophical studies, and, for the most part, it does. I've met so many remarkable men through my involvement; I can unequivocally say that I have become a better person because of the lessons I have learned. However, there seems to be those in other Grand Jurisdictions who think that being gay is akin to being a serial rapist or murderer, because they have banned outright the membership of gay men.

Ok, I concede that is a little unfair. However, the salient point is that they think that gay men are morally bankrupt, sexually devious individuals that cannot be trusted. Now I, admittedly, don't really pay attention to such claims anymore, mainly because I know that I am more moral then those people in Georgia and Tennessee because I forgive them for their ignorance. But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit idly by and watch them ban gay men from pursuing light.

And that's what I wished that they realized. We're supposed to be enlightened individuals. Not individuals who use a centuries old Fraternity as a glorified dinner club or as a means of peddling their specific religious beliefs. To be frank, I somewhat admire them for sticking up for their beliefs, but at the same time, I am angry and full of contempt that they think that being gay is grounds for banning men from joining. The actions of the Grand Lodge of Tennessee and Georgia, honestly, demonstrate to me that these are men who are Masons in name only.

This means that they are not true Freemasons. They enjoy having their dues card, going to business meetings, performing ritual work, etc. They do not enjoy viewing all men as being equal. They have hijacked the world's oldest, largest, and most esteemed Fraternity to be a show horse for Christian beliefs.

Now, before you get your panties in a bind, I have no problem with Christianity. But in Freemasonry, there is no central religion. There is no one definition or right answer as to what god is, and we are not even allowed to discuss religious matters in Lodge. That being said, Georgia and Tennessee have forgotten this, and I wish that those who are behind these invidious policies would simply leave. I wish them no ill-will, but they have, as I have said, hijacked my beloved Fraternity to meet their own ends.

So to any gay Freemasons in those Grand Jurisdictions, please don't leave. Make like the Dixie Dems after the Civil War. Move into positions of power, and change things. Don't leave. And, as trite as it is, be the change you want to see. We cannot survive this storm unless those who are targeted by this legislation move upward and not out. But, I've got to jet. Stay humble, don't stumble, and I'll talk to you again soon.

Going on the Pill

I try to be very open and honest about my struggles with mental health issues. I'm a high functioning depressive with social anxiety, and far too often I find that the stigma keeps far too many people quiet, particularly in the LGBT Community. If I'm having a bad day, I try to tell my boss that it's hard for me to be at work, or if I'm suffering from a really bad episode, I will lay in bed for hours on end. Before I started dating my ex, I was taking antidepressants, and I admit that I actually started to enjoy life again. However, as time progressed, my ex expressed a certain discomfort with antidepressants and also that he (eventually) wanted me to stop taking them.

So I did. For better or worse, over the last two-ish years, I've been managing my depression as best I can without medication. Being with my ex certainly helped, because he was very attentive when I was having a black day. But now that I'm back on my own, it's become very nearly unmanageable (no need to worry, I'm surrounded by people who are aware and who care very deeply). So I'm going to my doctor today to go back on the pill. I don't know why, but I actually really hate myself for doing it. I know that it's hypocritical of me to feel this way, especially when I've told fellow depressives that going on antidepressants is a good thing and can really help, and they truly can. So why am I struggling with this so much?

Well, I'm sure part of it has to do with social conditioning. Another part of it has to do with my upbringing, and the final part has to do with the fact that I don't want to ingest a chemical just to feel 'normal'. It's a bit ironic really. I know that, just like my grief, this depression is just the result of chemical cocktails and reactions in my brain. My brain isn't producing enough seratonin, and that is, mechanically, what my depression is. Like I said, everything I am feeling as I process this break up are just chemical reactions in my brain, and opting to not take a small pill to counteract and correct one of the symptoms is just plain foolish.

But that's the thing of it, isn't it? That's how strong the social conditioning can be, that I would play with fire, essentially, just to avoid the stigma of being on antidepressants. I hate telling people that I'm clinically depressed, because then they treat me like a little bird with a broken wing. Bitch, I am not a delicate little flower. Don't treat me differently just because my brain literally tries to kill me on occasion. For that matter, don't treat anyone with mental illness differently. But it's important to be open about it and to educate people that mental illness isn't a defining characteristic of someone's personality.

It's uncomfortable and I hate doing it, but we can't be quiet about it anymore, particularly when we have young men and women killing themselves. LGBT men and women are at a significantly higher risk of major depression and suicide due to their sexual identity than our heterosexual counterparts. And that's what truly sucks about being gay. When you're in the closet, you're depressed. When you come out, you feel better, but if you live in an uber conservative area like me, you have to deal with homophobia and ignorance on a daily basis. So, as much as I hate to say it, sometimes, it doesn't get better. Sometimes, you just have to keep fighting even when the sea seems so big and your boat so small.

But the potential for things to get better automatically ends if you off yourself. So, brothers and sisters, don't stop fighting. Go talk to your doctor, find a mental health professional (which is a lot cheaper for my French readers, ;-). Find a good friend who won't treat you like a wounded bird. I've got to jet, but stay humble, don't stumble, and I'll see you next time.



If you or someone you know is suffering from a major depressive episode and is considering suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. Stay strong, you can make it.