Shame on you

The Velvet Rage: Overcoming Growing Up Gay in A Straight Man’s World

The Velvet Rage: Overcoming The Pain of Growing Up Gay In A Striaght Man's World

courtesy goodreads.com

My AA sponsor suggested I read The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain Of Growing Up Gay in A Straight Man’s World, by Alan Downs, PhD while I was still able to go to AA meetings. I no longer go to meetings due to inability to get to the gay meetings, which are further away.

Anyway, I loved the book the minute I started reading because I could identify with everything this guy is writing and hope there is a cure for me hate of gays.

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page ix

The author is reminiscing about good ol’ days, the men he has loved/lusted and the friends lost to AIDS through drugs/alcohol, remarking “I am alive,” as that is sufficient enough for him.

This is what I’ve wanted my whole life, yet it has escaped me my whole life also. Admittedly, I my default state is not one of gratitude…problem 1.

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page x

I glance backward and feel the tide of life and memory rushing forward, I am torn between gratitude for what was given and longing for what was lost.

I tend to focus on longing for what was never had.

“we are uniquely identifiable in our ways—there is no mistaking gay culture when you see it.”

I interpret “gay culture” as West Hollywood, which is easily identifiable to me. However, without gaydar, I can’t tell another homosexual just by looking at one…unless he is a drag queen or obviously flamboyant, and even then I can be wrong. My ideal man is masculine, straight-appearing, making it doubly hard for me to identify an ideal mate.

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page xi

“When you love a man, it fundamentally changes you-and we have all be shaped by our love of men; the heavy caress of his hand, the brush of the hair on his forearm, and the powerful kiss that at once dominates and deconstructs our defenses.. These things enliven our days an fuel our dreams.”

Wow! I have the added complication of taking that fuel and creating a conflagration because of my sex addition.

“It is the concept of shame, in fact, that has enlightened so many of their lives. Prior to reading the book, they felt they had long ago been done with the ravages of shame over their sexual orientation. Some actually have no memory of feeling shame over being gay-they marched out of the closet at a young age and never looked back. It is here, at this point, that a truly life-changing insight emerges. Most of us have not felt the emotion or shame for many years-since we first came to terms with being gay. For the majority of gay men who are out of the closet, shame is no longer felt. What was once a feeling  has become something deeper and more sinister in our psyches-it is a deeply and rigidly held belief in our own unworthiness for love.”

Guilty!

“We were taught by the experience of shame during those tender and formative years of adolescence that there was something about us that was flawed, in essence unlovable, and that we must go about the business of making ourselves lovable if we were to survive.

The only people in my mind that taught me the experience of shame were school children who made fun of me for being fat and gay, when I didn’t even know what gay was, nor realized that was what I was. Well, they succeeded, because at 54+ I don’t believe I am lovable; only difference today is that I have given up ever being loved [the way I want to be loved.]

“We were hungry for love, and our very existence depended upon it…Whether life is worth living depends on whether there is love in life…The lesson of the early, crippling shame was imprinted on our lives. If you are to be loved, you must hide the truth about yourself and work at being lovable.”

 Guilty! Feeling unfulfilled, I chose drugs, knowing that I could make people laugh, equating laughter with love, confusing love with lust, and never ending up with anyone, provoking hate from within towards all. 

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page xi

“Very few of us feel the shame, but almost all of us struggle with the private belief that “if you really knew the whole , unvarnished truth about me, you would know that I am unloveable. It is this belief that pushes us, even dominates us with its tyranny of existential anger. In our own way, young and old alike, we set about the business of “earning” love, and escaping the pain of believing we are unlovable. It is this damned quest that pushes us to the highest of highs, and simultaneously brings u to the brink. This is both the creator of the fabulous gay man and his destroyer

Me destroyed. When I have received attention from another man, I am walking on clouds; the minute it’s gone, you’d think I had been deflated.

“Gay shame is not embarrassment over being gay; is the belief that being gay is a mere symptom of your own mortally flawed psyche. You can treat the homophobic symptom, but the underlying disease persists until acknowledged and treated.”

Huh? Maybe my psychologist can explain this to me. I have been wanting to address my gay shame/hate with him. What is my homophobic symptom and underlying disease?

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page xv

“…the lives of nearly all destructive perpetrators are intertwined with, and in many cases motivated by , rageful reactions to personal shame. The devastating effects of shame are ubiquitous, and the message of self-acceptance is universally craved by a world that has i large part been taught that you aren’t young, thin, holy, rich, or successful enough.”

Tru’dat!

The Velvet Rage: Preface to the 2012 Edition, page xvi

“…shame blocks people everywhere from experiencing the joy and contentment that lays just beyond those dark walls that imprison the human spirit.”

I believe this.

“While understanding the origins of shame-based wounds is important, this alone is not sufficient to bring needed change into our lives. Change comes by choice and practice, not from insight about our past.”

I concur.

DaNell Daymon and The Greater Works Gospel Choir

DaNell Daymon & Greater Works Gospel Choir

I just saw their semi-final performance on America’s Got Talent and I this is the closest I have come to have a complete breakdown and just crying my eyes out, which is probably what I need most.

DaNell shared his desperation; I can identify with that. What I can’t identify with is my reason for being created, here. He says that one must/just believe in yourself. My immediate reaction is that I don’t think I was taught that growing up. I know I was always told how smart I was, how handsome I was, how intelligent I was…I never believed it because my life experiences never matched or made sense to me. If I was so handsome, why did I never have/secure a companion? If I was so smart, why was I not able to earn as much money as my colleagues – in reality, I never have been motivated by money.

Anyway, I would love to see the choir perform in their own show in Vegas. It might be worth the $s to go; I would be crying during the whole performance, loving it! Their performances move me.

 

Nothing Is Ever Simple

Nothing Is Ever Simple…

…in my family.

Mom just asked me to move a couch into the rental property, in the car, on the way home from the nursing appointment.

My immediate reply is “no” because I am sore all over my shoulders and back.

Then I start building up my arsenal of additional excuses not to help: poor old dad, parents are comfortable enough to hire people to do physical labor; I am not moving in; I am not making anything from this venture.

I am not making up excuses, I am being honest. Seems harsh, but I believe direct honesty is much more efficient.

So far there have been no repercussions, but I know better. One day it will come back to bite me. I can hear it now…”I don’t know why he is the way he is, we give him rides to all his doctor’s appointments and he can’t help us move a couch!” Actually, this serves as an excellent reminder to find out about patient transportation from my healthcare network.

Bad Sex

My Unattractiveness Reaches Psychic Proportions

I had begrudgingly set up a date with Pierre the Prostitute – begrudgingly because I believe paying to be the one to do all the work (a blowjob). Especially, in this humidity with no air conditioning!? Got a bad vibe due to non-communication, his price was higher than normal, and we were going to blow clouds so I started looking for someone else.

Next was Darrius, who only liked pot. So being the people pleaser I am, I was off to the dispensary. It’s as if he was psychic – in my mind, at least – when I got the call from him – on the way to the dispensary, after worrying about time because my cousin that was going to ride me made me wait – that he was cancelling on me! WTF!?

I was dejected; my cousin noticed my change in mood and inquired. I had not been truthful to her about paying for sex so I remained silent.

So with a bag of weed, I went home and started looking again when I felt the green fuzzies. I could not find anyone that sounded like someone I might enjoy for the $120 in my pocket. Frustrated, I used the ads as porn, I actually watched 1.5 porn movie. I got very high and very sexually enticed and then went to bed and fantasized in my head of two daddies. How might they react to each other? With my luck, they’d be so turned of by each other, I would be Charlie Brown once again.

WHY AM I EVEN SO HELL BENT ON GETTING SEXED?

I am sex addict and the pot is not working as much anymore so now I seek out sex as a means to act out. I have ALWAYS associated drugs with sex; they enabled my male persona to condone the raping of my female persona. There are other factors: HIV+; Herpes; Cancer; my diabetes medication gives me cotton mouth 24/7; impotence; and my apparently morbid obesity.

On my side of the board I believe in paying for love is acceptable and should be an option for all of society. My biggest obstacle in attracting men is the men that I am attracted to: skinny to muscly men with big daddy dick! Sorry, getting excited, but no worry, the little guy asleep, motionless. Ha! So far, of the four men I have encountered, the first was the best; my success rate: 25%. Not too good. Further discouragement: I removed my anti-depressant from my medication regime, discovering that it was a cock-blocker – still nothing.

Oh, and then there a jealous child, Mojo.

 

Crying My Eyes Out

Feeling!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG! I was just thinking that I had better start planning…

I ran over to my computer and then started calculating and all of a sudden it came like a swell in the ocean from a tropical storm off shore…

I realized I am beginning to feel again. Anger at my state and federal governments; anticipation of a future event; realization that for the second time in my life that I can just live; that I have more energy, less pain; my spirit is reawakening.

And as I say that, I am feeling imaginary? miniscule gurgles under my right moob. To be fair, I think my venis (new word coined by me on this day in Los Angeles, California, United States of America this twenty-seventh day of July in the year two thousand seventeen) moved!

Google Search: “shut in dating”

I love my wit, yet I despair it is dying with my wildest dream of finding someone to love me – or of ever finding myself worthy of love from someone else.

Having had yet another spiritual awakening as a result of the steps, I have a new perspective: I should be looking for the type of guy that likes me the way I am rather than me looking for someone I like to like me as much as I like them: a chubby chaser.

I post a very direct Craig’s list ad for sex, due to “The Green-Horny Parallax Syndrome.” As the syndrome subsides, in the background, Tired by Adele playing…

QuoteI’m tired of trying; Your teasing ain’t enough
Fed up of biding your time when I don’t get nothing back
And for what, and for what, and for what when I don’t get nothing back
Oy, I’m tired…”

I return to the computer to delete my ad out of despair and the realization: my room is unkempt – to be kind; the floor covered with dog hair; and at the suggestion of my psychologist, start typing my drama out. All of a sudden there a tug on the line. This fish is instant lusting that chocolate worm. I remember my new perspective and IT’S ON!

What the fuck am I thinking? I am thinking since my parents are gone, I can use my nephew’s old room. I am taking such a big risk, having been caught in my parent’s bed once before with my second boyfriend. They have only once before made this trip round in one day, so what are my odds?

As a safety measure I call my cousin and we agree she is going to call in half an hour as a safety check. Then she asks “What’s his name?” I don’t know. I am way too excited. He calls: “Did I get his text?” I HATE TEXTING! He asks for face pic. LIGHTBULB! I ask for one in return.

He gets here; I go out to greet him. He is a muscular jock type! WTF! I am so fuckin’ attracted, I can barely contain myself. Of course, cotton-mouth is my enemy. But I finally get him in the room, ask him how he wants to do this, and then immediately take over. Mistake 2: Better customer service would’ve been to let him take over the situation, but again due to the extra self-imposed pressure, I was rushed. If you are paying attention, you might think I forgot something, but I didn’t: Mistake 1: I should have not caused myself undue pressure by using my parent’s house for a hook up.

I was able to do the deed, but not to my own satisfaction. Let me tell you this, though, that boy had me in heaven! He had been asking what else I might be in to? Would I answer the door naked? I did inform him of my safety measure to be up front. If I had been honest and brought him to my room, this post might not have been edited so soon.

I finally call my cousin and I am still giddy. We come to the realization that she has seen my “addictive” personality, which leads me to believe I might be addicted to sex also. It certainly has always played a role in my drug use. Despite old behavior, which we both laugh at, I am being 100% honest. Perhaps that makes me believe that good can win without being evil.

I am still going to research shut-in dating; who knows, I could find a shut-in chub chasers group! 😀 😀 😀

Grump

“What if your pain could be erased?”

QuoteI don’t want my pain erased. As wretched as it is, I need my pain; it makes me who I am; it makes me Grumpy.”

~ Once Upon A Time
Season 1; Episode 9: 7:15 A.M.

The ironic thing is that I presume most people misinterpret this attitude as disagreeable, which I guess could be viewed as such by others. I suppose I want to defend Grumpy’s statement because I can identify with it.

Growing up in a non-demonstrative [of love, feeling – in my opinion, of course], love was best displayed that if you were lucky enough to be the focus of ribbing/teasing, you were loved. I testify that constant teasing can make one grumpy, especially, when that same person has been spoiled and is facing the reality of life, being on the short end of the stick.

When I think about it further, teasing continued throughout my childhood: Fat, Gay – and I didn’t even know what gay was yet. As I enter the final stage of life (beginning, middle, end – my heart is softening my life resentments and I realize how bullying can affect one’s life, though the evil side of me still has a problem with being a big enough to be bullied that far. I am the biggest sissy around, yet I am still here – mentally and physically.

THEN AGAIN…knowing that there is a cost for magic, I would have to nail down all the particulars before agreeing to it. Actually, on the face of it, NO, I would not want my pain erased; I’m too afraid of the consequences. And with my record of having lived a Charlie Brown existence, I can’t afford to take the chances.

God is great…

…if you believe.

And if you believe in a God, as you understood Him, it’s even bettah!

I noticed Mojo was having a seizure. I went to grab the towel for sensory deprivation therapy (SDT). His seizure was long and drawn out, but mild. We were watching American Ninja Warrior and I was thinking that these guys deserve their adoration for such a personal victory and such wonderfully hot bodies.

Next thing I notice was that Mojo had calmed. I put him down, but I was wrong. I picked him up again, SDT, and added singing. The all of a sudden I got sad and started asking God for a miracle cure in the name of Mojo, because I did not want to lose my connection with a God, as I understand him.

WAIT! Did I just say that? I had been questioning my faith recently.

I always talk to Mojo, my dog, who does not understand English, every day he has been with me. We are both diseased: predetermination. Doh! I do have faith!

The next thing I noticed…Mojo’s seizure had ended.

Glory be and hallelujers!

Praise God!

Testify!

“Sister Emmy Lou done gone t’ shoutin’ an’ jumpin’ cause she feels the spirit…”

~ Down South Camp Meeting
The Manhattan Transfer