Healing Demons

I have now seen a meme twice. A meme is a viral phenomenon that spreads an idea from person to person in a given population. It’s also the slang term used to describe a trite saying usually accompanied by a picture on the internet.

This particular meme says, “We never lose our demons. We only learn to live above them.”

I can happily report that we can heal them. We do not have to simply learn to tolerate their rude behavior as they live downstairs. It is possible to completely heal them, releasing ourselves from their power. Why can I say this? Because I healed mine.

It’s popular to talk about our baggage, the stuff we carry with us from the past that weighs us down. Baggage is something we talk about with a therapist. In the early days of going to AA, I heard a lot about baggage, and I realized that I don’t simply have baggage. I had a freight train.

Indeed I did. I had so much junk attached to myself on many different subjects: homosexuality, religion, being an American male from the South, parental expectations, etc. The list is very long.

I started therapy when I was 23. The first big item I tackled was anger. It may surprise you to learn that I actually had to teach myself how to be angry. I remember it quite well. I had to keep a small notepad in my pocket and write down every time I felt angry. It took many months before I was able to recognize my real anger. I suppressed it before. I didn’t know that I was allowed to be angry. It was an enormously unhealthy way to live.

I haven’t thought about that episode in my attempts to unpack my freight train in a very long time. My anger is healthy now. I feel it. If necessary, I act on it. I let it pass. It flows like it’s supposed to.

That is a perfect example of healing a demon, and that’s what bugs me about that meme. Saying that the best we can hope for is to merely live above them does us all a disservice. We can indeed heal them. We can completely disarm them and free ourselves from their grip.

I have healed many demons. I don’t live above anything unpleasant.

I am free!

I am very happy to be a gay man now, but I used to loathe myself. I healed the loathing. I did the necessary self-care that led to a very happy realization that I like being gay. I live completely out now. It was a difficult journey fraught with upset, but I did it. I did it!

I am free!

If you think you have pain that can only be tolerated and never healed, you are wrong. If I can heal the trauma of growing up gay in a time and place that abhorred it, you can heal, too. You can. I promise.

The question becomes how to start. Therapy worked for me. I know that it works for a great many people, because they’ve told me it works. It’s also important to do some work on our own.

Meditation is an amazing habit to form. It teaches us to find our calm center. We each have one. Most of us need help to find it. Meditation doesn’t have to be scary. Sit quietly doing nothing. Don’t sit and rock. Don’t sit and drink water. Sit. Just sit. Let your mind wander, and look for the spaces between the wandering thoughts. Try to enlarge those spaces in between. Don’t judge yourself as your mind wanders. Just watch it.

Exercise is important for me, too. I powerwalk. It’s something I enjoy, and it only requires good shoes. It doesn’t take any other special equipment. Think about what you enjoy, and do it.

There are many ways we each can begin the journey of healing. What do you want to look like after you have healed? Think about it, and think about the ways you want to get to that place. Find the help you need, and use it.

You can be free, too. I promise.

Being Left Behind

A former lover killed himself two days ago. He was a kind, sweet gentle soul who never uttered a harsh word against anyone but his wife. Yes, he was a married man, and that’s just one of the reasons he was a former lover and not a present one.

I first met him maybe six years ago, and I was instantly attracted to him physically. It was the kind of attraction that felt like pure, unadulterated need. Nothing came of it. He moved far away.

Then one day, he was back. We met for coffee, and in that public place, it was all I could do to keep my hands off him. He electrified me. I put my hand on his knee and felt the charge surge through me. I know he felt it, too, because we made it to bed rapidly.

The affair did not last. I could not satisfy his many needs, and actually, I encouraged him to get psychiatric help, which he did. He had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, too. He called me quickly after that asking, “Are we still friends?” “Yes,” I replied. “With benefits?” he continued. “No,” I managed to eek out.

I saw him several times after that in social settings, and the meetings were pleasant.

I remember his soft voice, his questioning eyes, and his wide hands.

I remember his want. He had an enormous void.

His needs, desires, wants, and that void are all gone now, and I am left behind to carry the sadness and the anger.

I can’t tell his friends we were lovers. He was not out of the closet. I can’t tell my friends I lost a lover to suicide. We knew the same people.

It’s all bottled up inside me. The cork stopper is pushed down tight, and I so want it to pop open and release the pain and tension that boils in my stomach and sits on my shoulders.

I feel very much alone.

A Book Recommendation

I want to make a short post to recommend a book. It’s short, because I’m busy getting ready to leave for my third week of job training to be a Certified Peer Specialist in mental health.

The book is The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing Up Gay in a Straight Man’s World. (More information here.) It’s worth a read for almost all the gay men I know.

Alan Downs, PhD, the author, writes well about the struggles gay men face growing up and maturing into fully realized adults. The first point he asserts is that gay men are assaulted with shame at their homosexuality. He writes, “There was something about us that was disgusting, aberrant, and essentially unlovable.” (Emphasis by the author.) That thing had to be hidden, and by hiding it, we learned shame. We spend a lifetime overcoming this feeling.

He names three phases we pass through on our journeys. They are similar to the phases faced after being diagnosed with a mental illness. The beginning phase is being overwhelmed by that shame. Where have we read that before? Here Dr. Downs talks about denial and drowning. I know those well. I denied my sexuality until I was 35 years old. He also describes the lengths gay men go to in order to escape the shame of their sexuality. I went far. I married a woman, fathered three children, and became an alcoholic.

Phase two is given to compensating for the shame. The book relates stories of the heights gay men strive for in all areas of life. We look for the perfect job, for more money, for eternal youth through time spent at the gym, and for validation from our peers by having perfect homes, exotic vacations, etc. All is done searching for a way out of the shame.

Finally, the third phase is cultivating authenticity. All the compensation and probing for validation reach nowhere, and a gay man must look inward to find peace and satisfaction with himself and life. A good deal of the search for authenticity in the book is about healing trauma, which I am studying in my job training. Dr. Downs says that we are essentially looking for contentment, and I don’t disagree with him. He puts forth three ways we look for it: passion, love, and integrity.

Integrity really cuts to the core of the struggle of the gay man, meaning integrate all parts of oneself, or more formally, the state of being undivided. (Emphasis by the author.)

Importantly, the final chapter speaks exclusively to skills for attaining an authentic life. He even gives a chart for tracking progress on a daily basis. The list is long and thorough, so I won’t go into it here. Each skill is written carefully, and background information is given to flesh it out. The skills encourage us to look long term in our actions and search for authenticity.

I like the first one: “The man I would become.” The skill is to ask at each important decision, “What would the man I wish to become do in this situation?” I am experiencing a great upheaval these days, and I need to remember that question. It’s something to add to my Wellness Toolbox, I think.

There was much in the book I could relate to, and the writer relates many stories from his patients that were familiar to my own experience. What I found encouraging was that I honestly feel like much of the shame and pain surrounding it are in my past. It’s been a long road, but I’ve turned an important corner. I’m not going back.

I am cultivating authenticity.