Getting Un-Stuck

Getting Un-Stuck

What win I if I gain the thing I seek? 
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy?
Who buys a minute’s myrth to wail a week
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape, who would the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar but to touch the crown,
Would with the scepter straight be stricken down?

                                                                                            - William Shakespeare

This is chapter eleven of the big gay Mormon book "They that be with us" that I am writing with friend Julie Martin. I am posting it on this site in chapter order and there is no cost. I am happy to respond to civil comments or questions. - Calvin

Let me touch on the title of the chapter before I go anywhere else. I don't believe that we gay Mormons need the atonement or a life change any more than the next guy. This chapter has to do with guys who happen to be Mormons who may feel the need to align themselves with the teachings of the prophet and all that it comes with. If this is important to you, then read on.

I used to have a clean crisp white sheet of parchment on my bulletin board right next to my sophomore prom picture which was themed “We Are Young And We Know Everything”.  It was to remind me to be spotless and unsoiled – specifically, to stay all crispy white and morally clean.  It was my image of worthiness up until the time one of my evil sisters wrote all over it in magic marker “Get your dishes done. I am not doing your chores LOSER!”

So much for clean and crisp white. I couldn’t even turn the thing over to use the back side because she leaned so hard on the word Loser that it bled right through what was an otherwise clean sheet.  It said “!RESOL” in scented grape marker with a smiley face for the point of exclamation. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t turn “!RESOL” into any type of positive motivation for me, so I ended up using the paper as a wrap for an old egg salad sandwich which I placed under her bed as a gift that kept on giving. 

Looking back, I can’t believe my sister got into my room in the first place with all the locks and booby traps I’d laid.  But more than that, I don’t believe that staying all crispy and white should necessarily have been my ultimate goal. How long was trying to stay perfect going to last me? Once I was scribbled on by purple grape marker where was I to go? How on earth was I going to clean that up, and why would I keep it on my bulletin board to remind me of what I now wasn’t?

Later in life (and not all that later it turns out), I ended up looking and feeling as scribbled and colored on with a purple marker as my pretty pure and perfect parchment had been.  Was life over for me?  Was there nothing more for me but to be a wrapper for stinky egg salad?  If the deal was done, why would I even keep trying?  

Virtue, from everything I understood, was an all or nothing kind-of affair like death or amputation - not so much by way of much middle ground.  

“So, Brother Thompson and Sister Martin,” you ask “after you have messed up your diet for the week, what keeps you from eating the entire box of chocolate éclairs and most of a three-cheese lasagna for twelve in one sitting? How do you motivate yourselves to keep trying?” You are right for asking.

Speaking of eating the whole lasagna, I think it should be apparent by now that my life, metaphorically speaking, has not been a clean and crisp white sheet of paper. The color purple, while a lovely cinematic feature is not my preferred look, nor my preferred scented marker.  I am currently speaking as one who found the iron rod from the other side of the map, a spacious place where spiritual congruency was as elusive for me as a perfectly white sheet of paper on a bulletin board in what seemed like a completely different life – certainly a different lifestyle.

It was a very dark time for me - one way by day, another by night.  At the time I remember feeling helpless, that I wasn’t smart enough or of enough value to Heavenly Father to get the help, guidance, and direction I needed.  I was caught in a cycle well known to many gay members of the Church

This cycle continued for years until I changed it and created a new one. Want to know how I did it?  It was amazingly easy.

Calvin Thompson’s Big Break

I started shoplifting.

I figured that I’d eaten enough lasagna and had been scribbled on with enough purple marker that the game was over, so how was pocketing a book or a bottle of aspirin going to make it worst for me in the afterlife’s sub-basement? A room with no view? An eternity of country music?

In hindsight, I can see that I was grasping at straws. I didn’t know what to do, and I am proud that I at least my inner sensitive guy knew to try to do something – even something as misguided as petty theft. I think a survival instinct kicked in. I made a choice. Considering some of the selections I thought were available to me at the time, my decision was downright proactive.

It was a choice not to give up. 

Practically, by stealing my cycle was simply made larger. What I meant as an interruption became a full-on invasion. I’d fed the monster and it put me on a leash as its pet and named me Sparky.

Amazingly enough, if I’d have put both the "gay" and the "shoplifting" upon the evidence board as exhibits “A” and “B”, then stood back to compare the two, I felt worse about the shoplifting!  At least stealing was an acceptable, bona fide sin (homosexuality, even then was not acknowledged by many) that I could acknowledge. I’d compartmentalized the SGA to the point where I considered the duality between nightlife and day life business as usual. 

So, now my personal version of the Mormon Pride Cycle which I am calling Cal’s Sin-o-Rama looked like this…

• I have gay sex
• I feel bad for having gay sex
• I feel guilt and shame and try to repent.
• I can't have gay sex because the repentance is too fresh so I shoplift.
• I feel bad for shoplifting and I repent.
• To feel in control I have gay sex.
• Rince and repeat. 

Does this sound familiar in any way?

When I was engaging in SGA behaviors I was thrilled that at least I wasn't shoplifting, and when I wasn't shoplifting, I found joy in being dry from both while trying to be a good person.  My scribbled purple marker covered the whole lasagna and then some.

Please hear me when I say that the choices I made are not the only choice everybody has at their disposal or that I am touting my experience as the way it works for everyone. I am saying that I did what I felt I had to do to survive; that in my grief and despair, these are the choices I felt I had to choose from: sex, shoplifting, or soberly bouncing on the Church wagon singing “Come, Come Ye Saints” – which, by the way, was originally heard in an English pub.

While I don’t know the science or the psychological reasons for these cycles, I understand that they are common.  I have a few friends that deal with alcoholism who have cycles.  Some of them drink to bolster self-esteem so then they can relax and be less self-conscious.  This reinforces their need for more alcohol, but then their guilt over alcohol dependence keeps their esteem in the gutter which requires more alcohol.

My Sin-o-Rama seems to be less uniquely “Cal” and more “O-Rama’ – more universal in describing destructive phases than I had realized.

Stepping Out Of Destructive Cycle and Avoiding Other Trouble Spots

In order to succeed, to stop the dishonesty, to be healthy, to be morally clean or what-have-you, disruptive cycles have to be broken. They have to be cracked in two or pried apart by some significant disturbance again and again until they are derailed and new healthy habits are established.

There are ways to do just that. Counselors are good at finding and suggesting methods that work for people to break these cycles. One of the techniques, as we understand it, is to get a grip on the underlining causes of the behaviors - to see where you are being blocked so you can make plans to move around it, or over it or through it.

When  Interstate 15 is blocked, our lives run infinitely smoother if we can plan ahead and look on a map for a proper detour – instead of sitting in the middle of a freeway jam frustrated both because we are blocked, and because we knew about the block in advance and did nothing! 

(By the way, my Gramma Ruby says that the definition of crazy from the Nampa Valley Farmers almanac is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result – like voting or paying taxes. Gramma Ruby might not have thought the adage up, but she looked so darn cute saying it with her wig on sideways.)

It’s not the knowledge that the road is blocked that breaks our cycle - though that knowledge is a real heads up.  Just knowing doesn’t make things happen.  It’s the plan to work around the roadblock and the follow through that gets us out of the rut and onto a different path – literally in this case.

______________________________________

I consider myself more knowledgeable today than I was when I first realized I was gay, and I still don’t understand all the underlining causes of my SGAttraction. Looking back I am amazed that in my ignorance I was able to get out of the self-created rut at all.

I had to go about breaking my personal cycle another way.  I had to blow something up or pull something down in order to derail the train that was going nowhere but circles. Somehow, in the midst of my sin-o-rama I got through my head a concept that literally saved my life.

• I needed, I wanted to follow the commandments of the Lord. In order to do that I had to stop what were for me destructive behaviors. 
• In order to stop the destructive behaviors, I had to include the Lord.

I didn’t have the willpower, the self-control or the brains ‘n brawn to do it on my own. I didn’t have a huge and visible support system to make me Way to Go posters and cupcakes.  I had to go right to the Lord and trust that -- when He said He would help me and that I was not on my own -- He meant me. He meant now.

Was it reading scriptures that saved me? Was it priesthood blessings or personal prayer?  Was it the angel or two that I felt around me at times to bolster me up and carry me home?  Was it the knowledge that He would not allow me to be tempted past what I could handle?  Was it an understanding that my relationship with Christ was private and personal?

It was all of the above and more. 

Once I got past a certain point and was able to take on more, I realized that to be successful I had to figure out what I wanted and what I was willing to both do and forgo in order to get it.  Could

Yes, I was, as it turns out. 

What I needed was an incentive of sorts.  Not a “what is in it for me” as grounds for action, but to know that there was something that made it worth it to forgo what I thought I wanted: what I thought I needed.  I yearned to know that there was a reason, that there was some logic somewhere even if I didn’t understand it. I needed to know what was in it for me to obey, and if obedience to the Lord served me as well.  What I needed was just the right paper on my wall with the perfect motto, and “!Resol” wasn’t it. 

I wanted to know what the Lord would do for me if I did what He said to do.  I hadn’t really tested any of the promises and convents between man and the Lord before.  I was about to.

I now have a motto that I don’t usually put into words. It didn’t come to me originally in word form, after all. It has to do with His love for me and still comes with addendums in pieces that I put together and rearrange. But I can say this; there are things involved here that I do not understand, and may not understand in this life. It will be worth it for me to do as He has asked me. 

Let me be frank:  He has asked that there be no sex outside the bounds of marriage, and He has established that marriage is between a man and a woman.  I choose to follow Him.  Therefore I choose to not have gay sex.

It is a small nitch - those who are gay and who want to follow the Lords commandments.  By follow I mean to hold an LDS temple recommend and hold it honestly with no misrepresentation. There are some out there who strive for this and I am one.  I do not judge others who have different goals.

With the knowledge I have, rather than focusing on what I don’t want or what I can’t do, I am focusing on what I can.  Now that I have a testimony of Him and His plan for me, I can believe in myself.  If He thinks I can do it, then I don’t need any other approval.  If He says yes, then what am I waiting for?

I have found wisdom in inspired words like these from Portia Nelson.

"I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in. It's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street." 

To mix all the metaphors together, my experience derailing a speeding train has taught me that no purple marker is too deep for repentance. The atonement of Jesus Christ and my willingness to repent has become an incredible tool in both removing purple marker and in seeing that there is more to a meal than Italian food.