I recently went back to the “old” neighborhood. Everything looked the same... but different. The houses and the street somehow looked smaller. Some of the homes had been remodeled and are more upscale than when “we” had lived there. I stood across the street from my old “home”. The emptiness and sadness in my heart returned with a vengeance. I was looking at my house and at David’s house next door. I was looking for some sign that we had been there, so many years ago. There was nothing left, absolutely nothing. This experience reminded me of why I was motivated to write this story.
When I began writing this blog, I really felt stupid. After all, what did I have to offer anyone? As I thought back on my life as a 14 year old, I remembered how lonely and lost I was. I was haunted by my realization that I liked boys. At that date and time, that was something that was totally unacceptable by everything I had been taught, directly and indirectly, by those around me. I felt it was repulsive and disgusting to everyone that was important in my life, and at times, sadly, it was to me. That is why I have remained silent all these years.
At some point, I felt that it necessary to share my story as the young teenager discovering himself. I knew that the wording was explicit as I wrote it. I would lay awake at night as I thought about what to tell and how to tell it. I wrote and rewrote much of every post. I knew that it wouldn’t be viewed by some folks with much acceptance. I was a embarrassed many times with my openness as I pressed the “publish” button….But,
I kept writing.
I wrote an introduction to my blog as I realized what the story I was writing contained. The beginning of my life’s story concerning David and me is explicit. I wrote it so, that maybe others could somehow experience the “sameness” between their lives and mine. For this I make no apologies. Somewhere out there in this world, there are other young people experiencing the same things that I did when I was 14. Maybe they are feeling the anguishing things, feeling lonely, ashamed or hopeless. I need to let them know that there is something beyond that loneliness, shame and hopelessness. I need to let them know that there is joy in living even though there are rough spots and challenges along the way. That there are wonderful life experiences that they won’t have if they give in to discouragement.
I owe it to them and I owe it to David to tell this story in the honest, open and yes, explicit way that I have.
5 comments:
You've done good. I thank you for the story you've told. I'm sure a number of folks will benefit from reading it.
I visit my old neighborhood whenever I'm in the area. It's not often, it is 500 miles away. I have the same sensations you do, of smallness and change. I don't have the sadness you do from having lost a friend, but it sure brings back a lot of memories.
Keep up the good work.
The timing of this post suggests that you may be replying to my use of the word "explicit." Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it, but I was trying to give an accurate description.
Maybe we should consider explicit accounts of sexual activity as being somehow comparable to pictorial representations of nudity — whether they are art or pornography depends to a considerable extent on the intent of the one who creates them. In your case, as you explain, the accounts weren't written in order to arouse but to inform honestly in a way that merely saying, "Paul showed us masturbation, and afterwards we did it frequently that summer," would not.
I've visited some of my old homeplaces, and I must say, my experience very much mirrors yours.
Your blog experience also sounds very familiar, and your style, to me, has been on the mark to express what I perceived you were trying to express.
I fully appreciate the reasons for doing it, too. It's been cathartic for me to get things out in the open. I don't know if I'll help anyone, be nice if I did, but it sure lifted a load off my shoulders that I've been carrying around for years. And, it has given me the confidence to do something which I know you can't: come out. At least slowly, to a chosen few...for now.
Keep up the excellent writing. It's good to know others feel the same as I do about so many things.
Peace <3
Jay
I'm certainly in favor of you writing as it fits for you! You shouldn't be writing for a certain audience or a certain readership. Instead, you should be writing as honestly and real as you can, and if you do so in the real and raw form that you've done and that works for you, then I applaud you. It has benefitted me to understand your voice and to appreciate something so powerful and so personal that has remained hidden and "silent" for so many decades.
Thank you for sharing.
I guess this reads as if you are done, like this is an epilogue, going back to the childhood street, and explaining why you've shared what you have. I hope this isn't an epilogue, but instead the beginning of even more brilliant and raw and real writing to come!
I want you to know at least one person was helped by your stories. One of the hardest things I've struggled with over my childhood molestation is the guilt I experienced because I actually enjoyed it (OK, just some of it). The telling of your story has helped me let go of all that. It helped me realize that I was feeling the natural wonder of having my sexual self awakened. The fact that this occurred as I was being molested is not a point to beat myself up over. It was a natural consequence of the events taking place. Thank you for helping me put guilt back in its ugly little box.
Post a Comment