A Process of Change

There are a few things on my mind I want to share.

1) The process I went through to come to a place where I felt peace in living authentically, in choosing to date and ultimately marry the one I love. That process isn't clearly outlined in this blog. It seems I went from stalwart, faithful member, to choosing to throw that all away in an instant. It didn't happen quite like that.

2) How I've come to find peace outside the confines of a religion that defined all I was for 40+ years.

3) Where I am now, and the continuing lessons and learning I see before me.

This is all too much for one blog post. And probably too much for my soul and emotions to process in one sitting. So I will just do what I can over the next few days to work through these points.

So, the first thing on my mind:

If you have read through my blog, I hope there is no doubt about how deep and real my faith and testimony in the LDS Church was, and especially in the Lord. Everything I did, said, thought, reflected on was colored by the lens of the LDS Church and its teaching. And I loved that. I found hope and peace and comfort in that. Even as I worked through the conflicting challenges of being gay and Mormon, I sought the clarity, answers, hope and peace by living as I believed I should. As, in fact, I KNEW I should - according to the gospel standards.

And I did find a measure of peace in living that way. There was peace in living exactly as I believed the Savior wanted me to, even if the result of those actions didn't always bring hope or peace. If that makes any sense.

So my life became a roller coaster. Hope and peace as I recommitted to living with faith. Followed by the underlying hopelessness coming back to the surface - no hope in ever not being gay. No hope of falling in love with a man. Not allowed to fall in love with a woman. Followed by pulling myself out of that pit and recommitting to living faithfully, and finding hope and peace in my life from obedience. Then finding myself in despair and hopelessness again. And on and on. 

However crazy that roller coaster of life was, I couldn't see any other path. Staying in the church, with all the rights, blessings and privileges that came with it was my only path. It was, in my mind, my only option. I just had to white knuckle it through. Had to keep choosing obedience as I knew it. Had to endure to the end. 

Then, one day, something shifted inside. I found myself faced with the decision to choose solitude and celibacy, or choose to pursue a relationship, no strings attached. Ultimately it came down to what I believed would help me find the most lasting peace. What would fill me with the desire to continue on in life. What would bring me the most hope. The Lord and I had a very long conversation. In the end, I felt assurance, comfort and peace from Him in letting go of my own expectations for myself, and living a life that would bring me intimate human connection, regardless of where that path would take me in relation to the Church. Though I knew, without a doubt where it would take me, I trusted what I felt from the spirit that night and many subsequent nights. I knew I would loose my calling, my temple recommend, and probably also my membership. Yet, I still felt peace and assurance in that decision. 

It was confusing to me. I wasn't sure how to have a close relationship with the Savior outside the confines of what I had always known. But I trusted in His process for my life. I committed to Him that I would keep Him close through it all.

I didn't leave the Church at that point. I continued to attend, because it was still my connection to the Lord and His gospel. However, as I pursued my relationship with  my now wife, I felt less and less connected there. Less and less welcomed there. I began seeing and feeling more and more of the subtle and outright rejection of who I was by the Church and too many of its members. It wasn't that I was losing my testimony of the Savior and His gospel, it was that I was beginning to feel, more and more, damaged by the policies and practices of the Church. 

By the time I was excommunicated (for getting married), I was almost done trying to attend. Which, after a few weeks, I did. The quiet rejection was almost worse than the outright exclamations of how my life was an abomination, and apostate. Members of the church who were once so open and friendly, suddenly stepped back. Stopped talking to me. Or if they did talk to me, it was with a forced, "its what is expected of me" kind of feeling. Like I had suddenly ceased to be their friend, and was now their project. It was their duty to reach out to me, and help me feel welcome. But that kind of "reaching out" feels anything like a welcome. And it was obvious and painful. 

So I stopped attending, physically. But emotionally, I felt a deep loss. I longed for a faith community. I longed to be a part of a gospel congregation. To find acceptance and love. And to learn of the Savior with other like-minded people. So I sought out other churches. And enjoyed attending them. Enjoyed the love and acceptance I was shown, without reservation. I felt genuinely accepted and wanted.  And the discussions were all about the Savior. I never felt worried about what I might hear over the pulpit. 

But I do feel overarching peace, and hope, and joy. I am content in where I am. I still have questions about where to find meaningful service and connection opportunities. But I am finding them. There are wonderful, amazing people in my life. And it feels full.

So from here, I'm not sure where I will go regarding a church community. I am finding that I am enjoying my relationship with the Savior - just between He and I. Not filtered through a church. But pure and simple. He brings me peace. I don't have all the answers. I don't know if I will ever return to the LDS Church. Right now, I have no intention to. But I do keep my options open, and my heart open to the Savior. I will try to go where He leads. For now, I will simply walk with Him and find my peace through Him directly. 

For Christmas, Kim bought me this painting. This. This is where I turn for peace. Where my soul finds stillness. 

Knitting a Soul

(Initially put to paper July 8, 2015)

I know I need to write. I just don't know that I have the words for it.

I feel deep loss. I have been depressed for the past 3 or 4 weeks. I was doing fairly well for about a month after my excommunication, but then I began to feel myself sinking into a place of hurt. Soul loss.

I am having a hard time finding connection, on a spiritual level. I am having a hard time finding meaning and balance in my life again. What once was my stability, my guide, that with which I weighed and measured my life is no longer a part of it. I know I am more than my church. But for my entire life, it was the lens through which I saw the world, found value and purpose - through the guidance, teachings and directions my membership in the church pointed me.

There are things within the church I would be happy to give up, and things I need and want to hang on to. But if you were to ask me to name what those things are, I'm not sure I could. Familiarity? Community? Tradition? Stability? I don't know how to hang onto the good, and let go of the hurtful.

I wish I could just make a clean break. Push it aside and away from me. Let it go. But I'm not ready to do that. There is something holding me here. Something I can't let go of.

I worry I will get bitter and cynical. Those things don't look or feel good on me. But I feel I could easily slip into those feelings.

My loyalty is to my Savior. I've just never had to try to experience Him separate from the LDS Church. I fear letting go of something (the Church) that might, at some future time, be what I need it to be for me again. What it once was for me. But I am also appreciating the feeling of  not worrying about or answering to an organization. Answering only to myself and my Savior. What does He want from me? What do I want from me? If I cut ties with the church on an emotional and physical level, will my relationship with my Savior suffer? Will I lose more of myself than I have already?

How do I find myself outside of the confines by which I once defined myself? How do I move to find myself without losing myself?

What It's Really About

Several months ago I read a couple of really insightful articles about what to do if your gay loved one invites you (a Christian with traditional values) to their wedding. These spoke to me, as I had recently announced my engagement to my partner of 11 years. And while most of my family and friends responded in loving and supportive ways, not all did. Some have some very real concerns and fears, and are torn as to what to do. They aren't sure they can support me in this decision, and therefore not sure they can attend the wedding. Because wouldn't that then mean they supported same-sex marriage?

As my wedding day is now only 2 months away, these articles came back to my mind as I thought about my family and friends who may still be struggling with their feelings and wondering how to respond.

For those individuals and anyone else who may be interested, I've linked two of those articles here.
Good article here, and here. They are both very well written and encourage readers to ask the hard questions and offer some suggestions on ways to respond.

I have many family and friends who have looked deeply and have asked some of those hard questions. I'm grateful for their openness and willingness to realize we may never know the reasons and answers to every question, but they can still love me where I am.

As an example, while attending church several weeks ago, a woman approached me and Kim and said: "I hear congratulations are in order for you two. How exciting! I'm happy for you." At church. She didn't say 1)"I feel sad about your decision", or 2) anything about how she views gay marriage. When I see her, I won't say "There's someone who supports gay marriage" cuz she never said that. I'll say "There's a friend" because nothing more needed to be said.

And then, just because it makes me giggle, I share this quote:

"Gay marriage - I am so against it because all my gay friends are out. And if they get married, it will cost me a fortune in gifts." - Joan Rivers

In the Same Boat?

My Bishop asked to meet with me the other day. I didn't want to, but I'm a good girl, so I did. I think he now may regret asking me in. :)

In the past I would have monitored how much and to what extent I shared my thoughts and feelings. Partly because they aren't always clear in my own head, but mostly to avoid making him uncomfortable or for fear of being judged by him.

Those were not a part of my thought processes this time around. Honesty feels a lot better, even if it does make some uncomfortable, or if it means being judged.

I want to be clear that I that I like my Bishop. I support him. I sustain him. 

He wanted to talk to me about two things. The first is not relevant here. The second thing, he said, was regarding my "same-gender...thing."

So we talked about that. I told him honestly, though I was doing pretty well, there are definitely issues I have had, mainly regarding how the Church has responded lately (lately, what am I saying? Pretty much always) to the marriage equality issue. 

I told him I fully support marriage equality. That I was thrilled and so happy when that came to Utah for those couple of weeks. And how I felt once it was stayed. I told him how frustrated I was that the Church feels a need to continue to make this such a difficult issue. How I support traditional marriage and the family. But not to the exclusion of all other types of unions. And that I struggle with the fact that an organization is essentially forcing others to live by their standards, though not everyone experiences life the same or holds the same beliefs. I told him how I wished the church could abide by the Article of Faith about "allowing all men the same privilege" of worshiping "how, where and what they may." And the verse in the Doctrine and Covenants about how religion nor government should influence the other in a way that limits the rights of others. How I wished the Church would follow those principles.

After discussing these things, I mentioned that I didn't know how those ideas and feelings about gay marriage would affect my Temple Recommend renewal. He said as long as I was living the standards, not acting on my feelings, bla, bla, bla, he could renew my recommend....

Well, there's the issue isn't it? So I wondered what does "acting on it" mean to him? I told him I was interested in dating. He didn't really have an answer, so went to the handbook. Of course I knew exactly what was written there. Callings can be held, full activity in the church can be enjoyed, Temple recommend can be renewed by avoiding all homosexual activity. He looked at me with an I'm-sorry-but-there-it-is-spelled-out-clearly look. Then he said, "So if you started dating, it could affect your temple worthiness status."

I told him I had been dealing with this "issue" for a little over 10 years now the way the Church has advised and recommend I do. And for the past three, at least, I've wanted to die. Some days very much so. Because despite my obedience, service, daily prayer, scripture study, and Temple attendance, the peace those things should offer was extremely short lived if there at all. The idea of continuing that for another 40 + years was more than I could bear. So I made the decision to date. And my heart has been at peace.

I mentioned it feels like there is a double standard in the church. Straight people can date. They can hold hands, kiss, etc. With zero consequences. In fact, it is encouraged. And yet, I am asked to not even consider it. Hold hands? Nope. Certainly not kiss. "Avoid any homosexual activity." Absolute double standard.

Then he made a ridiculous comment. There is another single woman in my ward, about my age, straight, who wants to start dating again. He said she and I were in the same boat. Single. Wanting to date. I'm sure the incredulous look on my face made him realize what a stupid comment that was. I said, no, we aren't in the same boat. Not remotely. Because she is encouraged to date. People are happy to see her date. I'm being utterly discouraged to date. Avoid it totally. So, no. We aren't in the same boat. We aren't even on the same ocean.

In his attempt to be helpful, he reminded me how short life really was. And that the best course of action was to continue to pray, read my scriptures, serve, attend church. And everything would be worked out in the next life. I didn't even have the words to express how unhelpful that counsel was. So all I could say was the choice I am faced with is an impossible one to make for someone who loves the gospel. Choose to remain totally  obedient to the policies set out in the church currently, and live the rest of my life alone, and quite possibly miserable, or chose to embrace my need for companionship, and lose so much of what the gospel is in my life.

Again, his only advice was a reminder of how short life is. And that the Lord would work everything out in the end.

Huh. Well, thanks for the chat.

At least he now knows exactly where I am and where I stand. But...he doesn't get it.

No More Goodbyes

Today I finished reading "No More Goodbyes" by Carol Lynn Pearson. Since I first opened this book and began reading, I've been filled with so many thoughts, feelings, impressions, emotions. Most of which I will probably never have adequate words to be able to express.

I'm touched. Saddened. Filled with hope. Filled with hurt. I marvel at the goodness of so many, and equally at the level of rejection by others.

I have some loved ones who I desperately want to read this book, with a hope that their understanding of me, and others will increase. That they will be able to see the decisions I make, and look on them with compassion, love and understanding, rather than with hurt, heartbreak and judgement. 

For the past two months I've been sitting with and letting sink in a decision I made about the path and direction of my life. So much of this book put into words a great deal of what I have felt and experienced. There is one quote, one thought expressed towards the end that I think summarizes my own life and experiences very well. It summarizes what I have come to realize for myself.

I knew that my purpose for being on this earth was not to be shut down emotionally, physically, and spiritually as I had been, but to be fully present and fully giving and loving in a committed relationship.

My emotions have been very close to the surface lately as I've tried to internalize these and so many other things. I am generally  not a very deep thinker, and these past couple of months have worn me out. I'm ready to move on, and just get on with my life. I don't know what that really looks like. But really, who does? I do know that I have a deep need and longing for connection. Emotional, spiritual, physical connection.

So I open that door and then move forward with my life the best way I know how. 

Willing To Mourn

I recently read a blog post in which the blogger quoted the words of another gay Mormon. I want to post part of that blog, and the words he quoted here. The full post is here. And while quite long, worth the read.

"Her name is Emily Stephens. She's in her thirties and is a writer. Her coming out was accidental. She responded to a thread on a group called Mormons Building Bridges, and didn't realize it was open to all her Facebook friends to see. Her words are powerful and very direct. In asking where the post came from, she said she was very moved when a non-SSA member was perplexed at some of the harshness that has surrounded the issue of homosexuality in the recent conference. Here are Emily's quotes below:

Jann...your post's last statement is so penetrating... "...why would the church put up a website about mormons and gays and it have loving language, but the GA's talk about it with such vileness???" 

I am active LDS, served a mission, attend the temple. I love to serve in YWs! I love to pay a full tithe! And, I pray every night that Heavenly Father will be merciful and let me die. I've survived being LDS and gay for 13 years, sometimes barely. I figured it out when I was 22. The messages this weekend conveyed to me exactly what you wrote. I must acknowledge that. I'd like to ignore those talks and only think about Uchtdorf's talk, but I heard their words. My heart has felt their words. They aren't going away. They aren't even new words. It is what has been said for years. I have a testimony of the gospel. So, I don't understand why my church hates me so much. Why do they insist repeatedly that I am vile? Why am I targeted at all? Because I "love" wrong? 

 I am terrified of people in my stake finding out I am gay. Though I am more than sure they suspect. In the past, I had a loving and compassionate bishop tell me that if people found out, my calling with the youth would be in jeopardy. Just if they found out I am "gay." I have never been kissed in my entire life. Never held hands. I've loved secretly and deeply in my heart, but was taught to do so with the greatest of shame.  

It is often suggested that same-sex marriage is the root cause of the degradation of the family--how is that possible? If we are to be discussing vile at Conference, why aren't we talking about pornography, infidelity, deadbeat parents, addictions, abuse, the objectification of women, pregnancy outside of wedlock. And when we discuss those things which truly threaten the family, why aren't we doing so with compassion, asking "how can we help?" instead of the fearful, "how can I isolate my family from the world?"  

Jann, I want to praise members like you who are brave enough to ask these questions. I want to thank members who are courageous enough to see the disparity and deeply feel the pain it causes and are willing to succor people like me nonetheless. It is brothers and sisters like you that successfully place my backside in that pew every Sunday to partake of the sacrament. It is you who gives me hope, especially in a place where being willing to see us with compassion is an insurmountable task. God bless you."

I could have written much of that post. These words especially touched me:  "I am active LDS, served a mission, attend the temple. I love to serve in YWs! I love to pay a full tithe! And, I pray every night that Heavenly Father will be merciful and let me die."

I don't think I've read sadder words in my life. They bring tears to my eyes every time I read them. I could have written those words. 

I also very  much feel as Emily does about those members who are brave enough to ask the hard questions. To reach out in love even though they don't understand. I have good people like that in my life. And I am very grateful. Especially as I make choice changes that bring me more in line with what I feel is my life's path. Who cry with me because they get a sense of just how difficult this choice is and what loss it certainly will bring with it.

 

An Unexpected Answer

If you’ve been following my blog much over the last little while, you know some of the angst I’ve been feeling – more so lately in the last year or more.

And over the past week, I’ve experienced a huge shift in focus. A new and unexpected piece to the puzzle of my life.

Something this big can’t, and didn’t just happen overnight. It has been at least two years in the making.

After I turned 40, I remember lying on my bed and thinking, and crying “Is this all that there is for me? If this is what my life, for the next 40 years is going to be like, I don’t want it.” And really, I had only been dealing with these things consciously for the past 10 years. During much of that time, my life has been a roller-coaster of feelings and emotions as I persisted in the idea that the decision I made, once I realized I was gay, to live a celibate life, was the right one. When I found it wasn’t working for me, that I was spiraling downward once again, I figured I just needed to be more patient, have more faith and that it would, eventually, all make sense and get better.

But that day, lying on my bed, I was overwhelmed with the thoughts and feelings of how in the world I was going to squeeze 40 more years out like that – alone, lost, hurting so deeply, confused. I need human connection. I'm not just talking about the few close friendships I have. They are wonderful, to be sure. But they can't, simply by their nature, fill me in the deep, soul connecting ways my soul craves. The need to belong to someone, and them to me. That is what I crave. What I have always craved. What the human soul searches for. And again the idea of living my life in a way that won't allow that made me not want to live my life at all.

But since I thought I had no choice, really, if I were to have the full love and support and acceptance of the Savior that was the only choice I felt I could make. But there was also a huge unbalance there. Because I also knew He wanted me to be happy. To live my life fully. But as I lay there on my bed, I knew I wasn't doing that. And I couldn't see how to do that.

My feelings were often so low, that many times over the past several years, I just wanted to swerve the steering wheel and drive over a cliff. Or hope that some semi would smash into me.

 I would rather not be here, than be here persistently feeling this way.

 I felt this would certainly be much simpler to deal with on the other side where I didn’t have a body to contend with.

How is that happy? How is that fulfilling? Choosing a life of solitude because I know I can't express certain levels of affection was bringing me more hurt, heart-ache and pain than any peace choosing righteously should have brought me. But I continued in that choice. And really, I didn’t think I could make any other choice, because as hard as it was, I thought for sure it was the right one. The only one. And that I just needed to keep persisting in that, hoping it would get better. Thinking maybe I could find enough peace in remaining separate from the deepest human connection to make it all okay.

Again. Up and down. Over the last two years, more downs than ups. More sorrow than peace. More hurt than joy. More questions than answers. And those answers that did come were always about being patient. The Lord knows me. Trust Him.

Then recently, I had a conversation with a friend that caused me to look once more at this whole issue. I realized I was in a hopeless situation. What I want most, connection, a significant other, someone to love and belong to, could never be a part of my life with the restrictions I had placed on such a relationship. It just couldn’t happen.

And for the first time, I had a reason to really stop and ask and consider what I was doing. What I wanted. What was working and what wasn’t and why. I had to consider if what I had been choosing really was the right thing for me. Was it going to provide me that which had become abundantly clear I needed in my life – that of deep human connection? Of being truly and completely open and honest with myself?

 For the first time, two choices became very clear to me - choose to open myself up to the possibility of a relationship and be in that fully, no restrictions, no boundaries. Or choose to stay single and celibate. Because trying to do both, have a fully connected relationship, while trying to remain celibate, wasn’t working. Rather, I was feeling more hurt, sadness, loss, anxiety, confusion and fear. None of which stems from the Savior.

So, I had a long conversation with the Lord not too long ago. Well, what really happened is He sent me over three hours worth of thoughts, ideas and impressions, with me asking a question here and there. I learned a lot of things that night, most of which I won't share, because they feel too personal to me. But what I did come away with, that I can and need to share is that the Lord knows how much I desire human connection. He also knows I am gay, that I always have been, that it wasn't something I chose, so I can't choose any course of action to reverse that. He knows I love Him. That I crave and seek His peace. And I haven't been very good at feeling that to the level I once did. He knows my heart. He knows my soul. He knows it better than I do. So while it wasn't unexpected to receive an answer from Him, the answer I did receive was unexpected.

I'm still sitting with it. Considering it and all that it entails. If I hadn't experienced it for myself, in addition to other confirming experiences, I wouldn't have believed it - not for me anyway. I could believe this answer for someone else, but not for me. And yet, here it was.

If I want to have a meaningful relationship in my life, and if the opportunity comes into my life, my choice now is to pursue that, and all that it entails. By doing so does not mean I have lost my testimony. It does not mean I love the Lord any less. On the contrary, I feel like I can more fully and honestly serve Him by living my full, complete self. Not just spiritually, but emotionally and physically.

This is a huge shift for me, so I've continued sitting with these thoughts and feelings. Recognizing and preparing for the inevitable loss that will most likely come with this decision. I will move on and forward with my life as I have always done. But now with a different focus to any potential and future relationships. The hope of having such a relationship has been opened up to me with the removal of the boundaries that would have kept something like that away.

And, as a friend of mine recently said: “There can be really tough things with which we are dealing or troubles we are going through, but when we know God has our back, there is an element of peace knowing we are in His hands and following a path He has endorsed for us.”

How much more true that feels when we realize the path he has endorsed for us is not what we thought it was all along.

A Private Conversation Inside My Head

I'm inviting you in. Please tread lightly.

Here's the thing - I will never be attracted to guys. I've tried. I really have. It's just not there. I didn't come wired that way. Therefore, I could never have a truly fulfilling, meaningful relationship with one. Not the way a soul craves.

So, I guess, ultimately I have two choices regarding future relationships with women:

Do I want a companion? For life? Do I want that ultimate connection that can exist between two people? Emotional, spiritual, physical, soulful? If so, I need to be able to go all in.

If I can't go all in, then I need to be okay with being single. Because asking someone I care the world about to keep up boundaries on what can and can't happen is just not fair.  I know this from painful experience. If there are boundaries on affection it is extremely damaging to the relationship, damaging to the other person, and frankly, can't last.  

Either choice will mean sacrificing something deeply important to me. Neither choice comes without heartache, pain, loss. But this choice I must make. It's the choice that all gay and lesbian members of the church must make. There is no good answer. 

Arguments for the first choice are generally reinforced with thoughts of the ultimate human connection and experience. 

Arguments for the second choice are generally reinforced with thoughts of eternity, and covenants. 

However, both arguments will and do ultimately rely on the atonement of Jesus Christ. And least in that there is some hope and comfort.

Oh to be straight and not be faced with questions like this. 

Why I Stay

I've had a ... thing. A thought. Mulling around in the back of my mind for quite a while now. I wasn't really aware it was there, but when it finally found actual words, ideas, I realized it had been there a while.

Especially the last week or so, it has come more clearly to the forefront of my mind. It was framed as a question. Not only by outside influences, but by my own inner-self.

Why do I stay? A part of and actively participating in the church?

As I've tried to answer that question, not just for others, but ultimately for myself, sometimes, most times, I couldn't think of a really compelling reason. Other than it feels like where I belong. Well, just in the last few days, I feel like I may have my compelling reason.

I am just as gay...actually maybe more so (is that possible?) than I've ever been, but...

I stay because:

1) Things need to change in people's hearts. That change cannot come by forces pushing against members of the church. It has to, is most effective when, it comes from the inside. If, as a 40-year, faithful member of the church, I leave, my potential influence for some kind of good is mostly lost. I would then be living only for myself. I must be too generous of a person to let that be okay. So I stay to help change hearts.

2) I deeply, truly, honestly love the Lord with all that I am. I feel like He wants me to stay. Even as imperfect, and sometimes extremely hurtful, and soul-wrenchingly difficult things within the church can sometimes be, He wants me to stay. Maybe its because of what I wrote above. I don't know. But I love the Lord. So I stay.

I don't know where my life will take me. I don't know that I will always be an "upstanding member" of the church. Because of my feelings about marriage equality, I may one day lose my Temple Recommend. I don't know the future.

But I do know that right now I'm staying. I'm here. And I'm happy.

How Many Times?

It happens pretty  much without fail. Every time I hit a new low, like is demonstrated in the previous post, I reach out in some way to the Lord. I write out my frustrations. I pray very honestly. And every time I reach out to Him, I find He is there reaching back. And once again I feel the reassurance, hope and love of His spirit envelope me like a blanket. And everything is okay again.

I love this song by Plumb. I've prayed these words many times in my life.

Still Here

Yes. I'm still here.

This blog has been on my mind a lot lately, though I haven't had a lot I've needed to add. So it continues to sit un-updated.

But recently, I read another blog post that really spoke to me and touched me. So I thought I would link it here. I highly, strongly, really, really encourage you to go read it.

The Montgomery's have a son who recently came out to them. They are amazing parents and have been very open and  honest in the way they've struggled and learned to deal with this very complex issue.

Just in case you decide you just don't want to click on that link above, let me quote part of it.

"The [LDS] Church is acknowledging that the answers to homosexuality are far more complex than any of the answers they have provided in the past. Twice [on the website www.mormonsandgays.org] homosexuality is referred to as complex. For those who are living this reality, this probably seems like an understatement. But for members on the outside with no experience with such matters and no personal relationships with someone who is gay it seems cut and dry. They have very simple, easy, primary level answers for your life. Here are many of the simplistic answers we have heard from members of the Church:

Just pray harder and it will go away. We personally had two LDS Social Services therapists and members of our local Church leadership tell us that by just increasing our faith and the sincerity of our prayers, our son’s homosexuality would go away. No amount of prayer can change God’s will for someone’s life?

Everyone is expected to live the same law of chastity. If by living the same law you mean comparing being chaste before marriage to never being able to express any sexual desire for the entirety of your life, then no. The law of Chastity has completely different implications for the lives of LGBT individuals. This law is definitely not equal in its application.

Living celibate is no different than single members who never marry. No. One is living with hope and the ability to express and receive love even if it never matures to a marriage. The other is the suppression of every sexual desire and being taught that such desires are wrong and of the devil.

Being gay is just another temptation in life like a disposition to alcohol, drugs or violence. This was actually taught in at a stake youth event by our local Church leaders. This line of thinking begins with the assumption of deviancy in LGBT people. Another local Church leader counseled us that my 13 year old gay son should not share a room with his 7 year old brother, because heaven forbid what he might do to him. Being different does not make you inherently evil.

Being gay is only a condition of this life. You were not gay before and will be fixed in the afterlife. I am not sure if there is a more destructive theology. It teaches that you are fundamentally broken and cannot be fixed until the afterlife. Yet in all other respects, who we are and the character we develop and the intelligence we gain in this life all proceed with us to the next life. Except being gay. At best this is a flawed philosophy with no scriptural or moral basis."

Now, again, for the full story, please go read the blog post. 

Survivors Guilt

Or something like that. In order to address this post topic, I have to back up a ways. Sorry for the round-about way to get to where I want to take you.

I have never questioned my faith. I have never questioned the counsel and policies of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I have never questioned my testimony. I have always been strong and steady. My faith has always been rooted in Christ. I have always enjoyed attending church and mingling my faith with those around me.

So why, a few months ago, did all of that begin to feel shaky, uncertain, and uprooted? Why did attending church become a chore that left me feeling worse than ever? Why did I feel lost, forgotten, not understood? Why did I find it so, so hard to feel the comfort of the Holy Ghost? Why did I suddenly feel that as a gay Latter-Day Saint, I was less than, left out, on the outskirts, alone? Why did my burden suddenly feel so much greater than it ever had before? And why could I not find reconciliation with any of that as I always had before?

I searched my mind and my heart for answers.

What came to me were simple things that only made a small, and temporary difference: focus on my blessings, what I have, rather than what I feel I lack; remember the answers I have received; work on trusting and having faith in the Savior again; etc.

I thought often about how much simpler this would be to deal with on the "other side", and silently hoped for some tragic accident to take me there.

Thankfully I'm still here.

Because tiny miracles have begun to happen in my life.

I outed myself on facebook. A blessing in and of itself. Suddenly, I became known more fully and more completely by people who thought they already knew me. Because of that, I began to feel seen again in nearly every circle of my life, and I began to notice the care and love others feel and felt for me. And slowly, my comfort level in church began to grow again.

With that, other shaky areas of my life (spiritual and otherwise) began to stabilize again. Like that tattered cloth I blogged about a while ago.

Elder Bednar, of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles, came to our Stake Conference and shared simple but powerful messages, and bore a powerful testimony. And I recognized that I felt the spirit in a way I hadn't for far too long.

Sometime around then a simple, not fully developed thought, or impression came to me. There aren't really even words to express it, but the message it brought was something like: "You've been resisting the spirit, joy and hope from your own life, so that you too could struggle in ways others with this issue struggle; so it wouldn't seem so simple and straightforward to deal with this very complex and difficult issue of begin gay and Mormon."

In other words, if I'm too hopeful and too full of the spirit then how can it really be that hard?

That idea shocked me, but also felt absolutely correct.

I am gay. I am emotionally and physically attracted to women. No doubt about that. But my attractions aren't really sexual in nature.When I notice an attraction to someone, it is all purely physical (appearance), or emotional. My desires for connection with someone are about emotional connection, deep sharing, companionship, mental, physical, and emotional closeness. But rarely have those connection desires been sexual.

So because I have no libido, keeping the Law of Chastity (no sexual relations outside of marriage, and that as defined between a man and a woman) has been quite simple for me. Even while in a 7 + year relationship with someone, we were celibate. And as it turns out, that was much easier for me to maintain than it was for her.

So several months ago, when a dear friend of mine was excommunicated for engaging in a sexual relationship with her girlfriend, after striving for over a decade to maintain her standard of chastity, my eyes were opened to the depth of this struggle for the majority of gay Mormons. What is relatively simple for me to maintain, can be excruciatingly difficult for so many others who love the Lord and His gospel, but are absolutely and fully attracted to the same gender in every possible way. And while being gay isn't just about sex any more than being straight is, for the majority of the world, sexual connection is a deep and meaningful means of connection and sharing.When my eyes were fully opened to that dilemma, my heart shut. And my struggle increased.

Subconsciously, I resisted being fully supported by the spirit and having absolute faith in the Gospel and Savior, in living my life with peace, hope and faith, because I did not want others to look at me and use me as an example of how other gay Mormons could and should live their lives. This is the realization I received. I felt guilty that my attractions were such that living the Law of Chastity was a non-issue for me, and therefor, I was able to fully participate in every aspect of the Church and the Gospel while so many others struggled deeply and painfully with that.

The idea of being an example of hope and faithful endurance when my struggle is significantly different, was enough to drive a wedge between me and my faith. I (subconsciously) needed to struggle and feel the depth of pain that others feel with this complicated and contradicting issue. And I did. And my heart broke. And my faith waned. And I felt anger at those who could not see the intense struggle this issue presents. And this anger destabilized me. Hence, the answer to the third paragraph above.

That anger and resistance continued for several months. 

After that first eye-opening impression came to me, I just let it mull around in the back of my mind, weighing it for accuracy. I might have forgotten about it, except it came again just a few days ago: "You've been resisting the spirit, joy and hope from your own life, so that you too could struggle in ways others with this issue struggle; so it wouldn't seem so simple and straightforward to deal with this very complex and difficult issue of begin gay and Mormon." But this time a little bit more was added: "You  have resisted the hope and goodness that fills your life, you have resisted being a source of light and faith, of being the woman of God that you are because you didn't want to make light of this very real struggle. But its time now to turn that around. It's time to bring that light and hope back into your life."

And so I'm trying. But I do it hesitantly because the fear and the guilt are still there that my path in dealing with this issue is made easier by my lack of sexual attraction. I loath the idea that someone will compare me and my "success" in staying true to gospel standards, with someone else who is struggling deeply to do the same thing.

Please don't use me as an example.

Unless it is an example that even though there is still heartache and hurt and questions, I can choose to let that rule my life as I have done, or I can put those things into the hands of the Savior and instead fill my life with hope, faith, beauty, joy and light. And knowing even when I do that, the heartache and struggle in life probably won't change, but I can still put my faith in the Savior that everything really will work out and I can focus on the good in life.

Or if it's as an example of the truth that every individual is unique and different, and they can, by following the spirit to the best of their ability, find the path and the life that is right for them, however different it may be to the one I am living.

And that's the message.