In 2010...

Last night I was getting ready for a party to bring in the new year with friends (which was FAB, btw), and I was thinking about 2010. I started to get sad and wonder what I had done in 2010 that was worthwhile. I couldn't think of anything. "Has my life this year been dedicated to work, alone? Haven't I spent this year doing anything meaningful beyond a paycheck?"

Then I started to think. 2010 has been pretty amazing, actually. Nothing like I would have expected. But wow. What. A. Year.

1. I exercised consistently for the entire year. This is a phenomenal achievement. I have never exercised consistently ever in my life. And here, I did it all year long.

2. I made an "It Gets Better" video that ended up getting over 50,000 views on YouTube. The video led to interviews with the LA times and the Associated Press. Now my video has been transcribed and will be published in a collection by Penguin.

3. I was a member of the committee that organized the Utah AIDS Foundation's Walk For Life. Truly rewarding.

4. I designed t-shirts for UAF, and saw tons of UAF volunteers wearing and marching in them during SLC's Gay Pride. This was my first Pride.

5. I found a new passion in making cocktails.

6. I went to Boston for a week.

7. I ran a 10k.

8. I joined the Salt Lake Men's Choir.

Yeah, 2010 was pretty much amazing. I'm so lucky.

It Gets Better

My response to Dan Savage's It Gets Better Project.

Well isn't that just lovely...

So many wonderful things about my life lately. I'd like to share them with you.

For those of you who don't know, I moved into my friend Blake's townhouse. It's much cheaper here, and it's a financially responsible decision for me. I carpool with my coworker, and it's nice to have people at home from time to time. One of my favorite things about living here so far has been the garden. Blake doesn't have a lot of desire to garden, so he's allowed me to plant whatever I want. Here's what's in my garden:

Strawberries. These were here before Blake moved in, so I trimmed them back, and they've produced many small, but delicious berries this year.

The Geraniums are out of control!

And other various flowers. I've got some Cosmos, some Zinnias, some Impatiens. Some other stuff that I cannot name. Because I forgot what it's all called.

Also, I just had my first Pride. It was so totally, unbelievably brilliant and rewarding. I marched with the Utah AIDS Foundation. This organization is run by such great people, and it was (and is!) a privilege to be involved with them.

Blake marched with us too. Blake is one of the good ones. It was his job to carry the rainbow flag, and he carried it so proudly. There were a few moments where I watched him, saw the pure happiness and pride in his face and nearly burst into tears. It was amazing. The look on his face expressed how I was feeling inside. So damn proud to be me.

These are some of the most brilliant, amazing people I know. Some of my best friends who marched with me. (L-R: Lydia, Blake, Denice, and me). I'm crying a little, just looking at this picture.

I've also been training for a half marathon. I'm not sure which, but my drive to be fit has never been more. Since I'm running about 6-7 miles right now, I decided to run the Pride 5k. A local photographer took this AMAZING picture of me. I was proud of my time (26:20), and Denice and Blake were there to cheer me on. Amazeballs friends. Just amazeballs.

Also, there's been this great boy lately, Danny. We've had a lot of fun over the last month or so. Problem is, he's moving back to D.C. (He was here on temporary assignment). I knew he'd be leaving all along, so it's no surprise, but I'll be sad to see him go. But he's just been one more thing to top off the greatness in my life right now.

What I believe, and how it has changed my life. Part 1.

OK, so coming out this, coming out that. I know, I know. It's all I talk about. Whatever.

Coming out for me was not just telling the world I was gay, it was re-examining everything I believed, why I believed it, and changing the things that just didn't make sense anymore. So I'm thinking this might be some sort of series -- but I'm lazy and rarely complete series. So. Anyway. Yeah. There's a lot of these swimming around in my head. Here's the first.

What I used to believe: That there was one true path to God. One way to happiness. That God wants us to be one, big, homogenized family.

What I believe now: Well, I don't believe that God exists. But I believe that if he does exist, he made us all the way we are. I believe that if he exists, he loves the Andy Warhols as much as he loves ... Glen Beck? Maybe? I believe that happiness is found by expressing your personal freedoms. I believe that we are damn lucky if we get to discover who we really are, deep down, in this life. Even luckier if we have the opportunity to express it. I believe that one should not do harm to others or the earth. But I do not believe in sin.

How it affects my life: I don't worry about fitting into an imaginary mold anymore. I focus on being me, doing what brings me happiness and doing what I think will help individual humans and humanity as a whole. Life has become somewhat of an experiment for me. I'm not afraid of messing up anymore. I'm not worried about being on the right path.

Instead, I try to be happy. I try to be me. And I try to let/help others do the same thing.

Cheers, bitches.

Ode to my bestie.

I've tried to write this post a thousand and one times. And every time, it doesn't measure up. Still, this one doesn't. But here goes anyway...

During Summer 2007, after another failed attempt at a relationship with a girl, I decided to tell my best friend Rachel that I was gay. I arranged one of our common walks to the Woodville Cemetery. "I'm gay," I said.

"I know." She held my arm as I squinted toward the sun and began to cry.

We continued walking, sat down in the tall grass by the canal bank and talked. This began the dialogue that would last nearly a year. We discussed my desire to stay in the Mormon church, to have an "eternal family." To avoid the "gay lifestyle."

Here's the thing about Rachel. She knew more about what it meant to be gay than I did at the time. She had always been attuned to things of the gays. She was well read on the subject, and even frequented several gay Mormon blogs.

I asked her, "Do you think I'll be able to marry a woman?" She was frank, and told me that it would be difficult to find a woman who would be willing to do so. And that the chances of such a marriage working out would be very slim. She led me to a lot of literature on the subject.

I soon latched onto several blogs, and found a vast, interconnected web of blogs that helped me understand that I certainly was not alone. My struggle was much more common than I had thought. I would spend hours and hours reading posts and emailing many to Rachel saying, "THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL!"

I've had several therapists in my life. Rachel is the best one by far. You see, we had a tradition. I would get sad, call her, then we'd bake together. Sometimes we'd talk about what was making me sad, sometimes we wouldn't. We'd bake, or walk to the cemetery, and I'd always feel better afterward.

Rachel was there as stagnated, as I grew, and as (a year after I came out to her) I fell in love for the first time. She giggled with me as I talked about how BF and I cuddled. Her eyes sparkled when I told her about the freedom I finally felt. And she made me homemade lemonade when it all ended.

Later, she was on standby when I came out to my parents. As soon as I could, I drove my car to her house, and I cried as she held me. When the tears stopped, she gave me a glass of water and leftovers. She didn't say much, she was just there. Just like she always was. She was there when I needed her.

Now, Rachel tries to keep track of the boys I'm dating. She usually remembers their names. And she asks about them. This means so much to me. Now she lives in Idaho and I live in Utah. But we talk on the phone, and when we do the conversation is sometimes lively, sometimes serious. But always she's there for me. And I hope I'm there for her, too.

Rachel is my truest friend. She is singular for me. I'll never be able to describe what she did and does for me. I'd not be here without her.

How's Utah?

So now that it's been a month since I've lived in Utah (and a month since I've posted), I'm kinda settled in. And I'm pleased to say that things are pretty damn great. I'll talk about those, but I'll also talk about some negative things. Some things that I need to say.

-I love my job. It's a great combination of editing, managing content and graphic design (all of which I love). It's busy, and we're always up against one deadline or another (or another, and another). But it's exciting, and I'm learning a lot. Best of all I have great co-workers. I knew I'd get along with them as soon as they laughed at my first joke. I'm a sucker for a person who laughs at my jokes.

-It's great to be so close to Miss Bates. She's so great, and it's practically a necessity for me to see her once a week. In fact, we've established "BFF night" every Wednesday night. One week she comes to downtown, the next, I go to Sandy. It's a delight. Truly wonderful.

-My apartment is so delightful. I really love having my own place and I LOVE the neighborhood. Seriously, so great. On the weekends I pretend I'm a real city person (and don't commute a half hour into the suburbs every day) and try to park my car and walk a lot. Everything is in walking distance. The grocery store is two blocks away, the library is five or six. Downtown is maybe five.

-I'm making new friends all the time. Most of the people I've met are through Sean and Craig, who have been delightful people to have around. We cook, we drink, we karaoke. We generally have a good time.

-But not all is fun and games (most, but not all). Utah seems a much more political place than Idaho. And Salt Lake City is the capital. When I lived in Idaho, I felt like I was far away from Idaho politics. Things didn't sink in as much there. Like what, you ask? Like the fact that in Utah and Idaho it is legal for an employer to not hire or fire someone just because they are gay. More upsetting than not being able to marry, LGBT people here (and in Idaho) can GET FIRED FROM THEIR JOBS just for being gay.

-Also, I can see the top of the Church office building from my house, and I drive by Temple Square every day on the way to work. This is an interesting feeling. Something I used to hold dear is now something that fights against my basic human rights. Did I mention that in Utah it's legal for someone to FIRE ME FROM MY JOB because I'm gay?

-So I've been wanting to get involved. That's another great thing about Utah, is that there are ways to get involved everywhere. So we'll see where I end up. Any suggestions on places to volunteer?

Well, it's hard to say goodbye... -or- Six things I didn't expect to be so great about Idaho.

The other night I was at a it's-Nick's-last-weekend-living-in-Idaho party, and I made a speech. The speech was simple and to the point. "When I decided to stay in Idaho, I didn't expect to make lifetime friends, but here you all are."

So, without further ado, here are six things I didn't expect to be so great about living in Idaho.

1. My new friends. Lessie, Thomas, Stephanie, Jackie, everyone at Cabinpalooza, all the people at the UU, plus many others. Even in conservative Idaho Falls, I found a ton of people who accepted and supported me as a gay man.

2. Being close to my family and existing friends. I don't think I could have lived without Rachel, Catherine or my family during the last 6 months.

3. Living alone. I can't say enough about how great it is to live alone. I can't wait to have my own apartment again in Salt Lake.

4. Living with friends. When I was laid off from my job, Rachel and Abe let me live in their basement. There's not a lot better than late-night conversations after the kids had gone to bed. More than once, the conversation was accompanied by an Oreo and milk binge.

5. Boys. OK, now, don't be fooled. Idaho Falls does not have very many gay people. But there were enough. I have pretty much had at least one boy to chase at all times. It's been fun. Really fun.

6. My art show. Who would have thought that I would have had an art show AND sell two pieces? It was so fun to sell my first artwork. Also, since being laid off, I've had time for all kinds of creative endeavors.

Snapshots from my life in the last few days.

Saturday night: "Come down here right now!" I shouted to Rachel. Immediately, the funk I was in was over. It was like I had done some very powerful drugs.

Rachel must have been in a panic, and immediately ran downstairs. "I got an offer!" I continued, conscious of the sleeping children. Rachel smiled while I danced around like a weirdo, hugged her, and generally basked in the fact that my life was going to change.

Later Saturday night: How interesting. On the night I find out I'm moving from Idaho, I end up on a date with an adorable boy. Sigh. Of course I did.

Even later Saturday night: The happiness that was immediately injected into my system a few hours earlier left me almost entirely unable to sleep. I achieved a whopping two hours of sleep. Over and over again, I went from lying there with my mind rushing through thoughts of where I was going to live, my new responsibilities, etc., to clutching my knees and giggling like an imbecile, so happy that i was finally leaving Idaho.

Sunday morning: I went to church, where I lit a candle and announced, "It's been wonderful to be here in Idaho Falls during such a defining time in my life, but now I'm moving to Salt Lake City." Coffee hour was filled with friendly goodbyes.

Sunday afternoon: Caught a very quick nap. Certainly not long enough to catch up on sleep.

Later Sunday afternoon: Helped Rachel prepare for dinner guests. We ate a delightful dinner, then I couldn't handle the stress of new people in my sleep-deprived state. So I watched the baby in the living room for a while then crashed for a two-hour nap. The dinner guests wondered where I went.

Now: I think I'm pretty much caught up on the sleep I missed. I'm in a rush to get everything done before I start my new job on August 5. Very exciting, my friends, very exciting.

Treatment for homosexuality at BYU-Idaho, part of my gay Mormon story.

I had counted out my sins time and again; I pictured myself laying them out on my bishop's desk one at a time like three $100 dollar bills. Masturbation, porn, and "I like boys."

I thought I could weave my web of transgressions together in a one-breathed sentence. And now that I had scheduled my confessional I had time to rehearse it a thousand more times.

Saying, "I like boys" (or whatever I really did say that day) was the first time I had mentioned my tendency to look at gay porn to anyone.

And that's what it was to me, a tendency. It wasn't homosexuality, certainly not me "coming out" to my newly-ordained bishop. I knew that with Jesus' help, everything would work out ... I'd be normal in no time.

Soon enough, I met my BYU-Idaho counselor and the support group that I would attend for the next eight months.

Each week I joined ten young men in making a circle of desks, admitting that "I have been masturbating since I was 14." I eagerly joined their monastery of shame. It must have looked like we all prayed to Gods that lived beneath the floor boards. That, of course, is excepting the few who had been "victorious" the previous week in the battle against masturbation and pornography who looked at the tops of our heads.

Each of us would take turns divorcing our eyes from the floor, then wedding them again, to recite our lapse incidents that week.

At the time, I thought and felt like I was doing the right thing. I was overcoming my addiction. And certainly, that was not a bad thing to do (and especially beneficial was how I learned to talk about my deepest secrets), but I learned later that I was going about it all wrong.

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I would have rather swallowed broken glass like Pop Rocks than to sit in the waiting room at the campus counseling center for another minute. Next to me a girl with two ratted braids mumbled to herself while scribbling madly in her sketch book.

When my name was called, I tried to stuff the National Geographic I had been failing to read back into the crowded magazine rack. When I got to Dr. Gregg's office, it was too much like I had imagined. I knew, given the La-Z-Boy, exactly where to sit, even though Brother Gregg said, "Sit wherever you're comfortable."

So I sat in the La-Z-Boy and regurgitated my one-sentence recitation again.

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The end of this story is obvious to anyone who reads my blog. I'm quite comfortable with masturbation, pornography and being gay. I'm not an addict, and I consider my sexuality to be a healthy one.

When I was in group therapy, I never went more than six weeks without lapsing into compulsive behavior. A dirty thought would leave me wrapped up in self hatred which would lead imminently (and compulsively) to a lapse.

One thing was never communicated to us, though; of course it wasn't: Masturbation is a perfectly natural part of life. And pornography? Plenty of good people look at it. And guess what? The shame you're feeling is contributing more to your downfall as a human being than looking at naked bodies.

When I realized that, and truly believed it, that's when my compulsive, unhealthy behavior stopped. And it stopped. I didn't have to do anything to stop it, except to stop shaming myself.

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During my counseling sessions there was a lot of crying, a lot of pain, and a lot of healing.

Steps for "growing out of my homosexuality" provided by Evergreen, International lent healing to my soul and to my relationships and engendered emotional authenticity. But let's be clear: they DID NOT make me straight. And for that matter, any less gay. What I got from reparative therapy was the same as what I could have gotten through standard, more ethical therapy practices.

The reparative therapy I participated in focused on resolving the issues that had "caused" my homosexuality. Talking out homoerotic adolescent experiences, resolving father/son relationship issues, gaining confidence among male peers, building healthy (non-sexual) relationships with the same sex. All important and good things, certainly. But how can this be billed as "treatment" for something for which the medical and psychological community have not determined a cause.

So besides the fact that it doesn't work, what's wrong with reparative therapy?

I remember Dr. Gregg, on several occasions, asking me to close my eyes and picture a woman's body. "What about women are you attracted to?" he'd ask. "Their personalities, their eyes, their smiles."

"No," he corrected, "their bodies."

He seemed to think that my attraction to men was simply a misunderstanding of my sexuality. He certainly didn't understand that I just wasn't attracted to women. Suppressing sexual thoughts of men was something I could do. Developing an attraction to women? Absolutely not.

Now, I must say that there are some who believe their orientation has been changed. Some who claim to run successful ex-gay ministries. And if someone says their orientation has been changed, who am I to say otherwise? All I can say is that for me, and many others who have undergone therapy (including electro-shock therapy in the not-too-distant past at BYU), efforts to change orientation have been fruitless.

And when therapy doesn't work, people who likely already hate themselves (why else would they be trying to change), consider therapy another personal failure. No wonder many are driven to suicide through this type of therapy. Several people I know personally have had serious suicidal thoughts which have led them (thankfully) to quit this kind of therapy.

Everything I've described thus far was before my mission, which I figured would be a miraculous transforming experience that would render me cured; It would be a rich reward for the hard work I had done in therapy. This is a common hope for young gay Mormons. Even after my mission, I returned briefly to Dr. Gregg. By this point, however, I had accepted that my homosexuality would remain with me forever.

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Cliché as it is, I wish I could tell my brothers in that support group (we did develop quite the camaraderie) how I feel now. I'd say, "You can masturbate and feel good about yourself. This shame that you have? It's totally uncalled for. Masturbation is a normal part of life. Your sex drive is healthy. The guilt you feel? It's what's driving your addiction."

And maybe that wouldn't have been that profound a thing for them to hear. But when I discovered it on my own, it was revolutionary.

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A few years after my mission, I returned to the BYU-Idaho Counseling Center. I was referred not by my bishop, but by my ex boyfriend (of all people). I expressed to Geoff the happiness I had found in acting according to my identity. And like Nathan said he would, he affirmed me. After getting to know me, he told me that I was a good person, that I could contribute to society.

We discussed God, my beliefs, the church, and the importance of gaining a new moral code. We discussed what really made me happy.

So I've taken both paths. I bet you can guess which one I'd take again.