My letter to the family...

Why I'm sharing this with the world, I don't know. Maybe it might speak to someone in a way that is helpful.

Dear Family,

I owe you all an explanation and apology for leaving so abruptly last Tuesday evening so here goes.

Mom may have mentioned that I’ve been battling depression the last 6-8 months. The lingering death of my dad, the death of my sister, the loss of two businesses, the crash of my consulting business, and the resultant financial challenges have been just a little too much. Mix with all of that the irreconcilable conflict between issues related to being a gay man and my love for my wife and children and, well, life has been hard to say the least. Some days the best I could muster was a blank stare at a computer screen. Thanks to a good therapist and medication, my mental state has improved somewhat over the last month. I still have bad days, but the number of good days is increasing.

Coming out to the kids...not so good

What I had hoped to be a great family conclave turned into an unmitigated disaster and admittedly, I’m mostly to blame. To make a long story short, I came out to my children (who are all married) and their spouses on Sunday evening. While the discussion was positive and all were seemingly accepting, there was an undercurrent of tension with my oldest and youngest sons that was unmistakable. I doubt the tension was obvious to others, but I could tell it was there.

After two days, the strain finally erupted in a yelling match on a totally unrelated matter between these sons and me in which most of the family including my wife piled on me. In an impulsive reflex, I told my wife I was leaving her, gathered my things, jumped in my car and began the four hour drive to our home.

The need for a helpmeet...

For a married gay man who craves male intimacy, the question of fidelity is always a nagging issue. Specifically, when does intimacy move from perfectly permissible to pressing the boundaries to actually crossing that sometimes not so indelible line? This is particularly difficult if the married gay man is an active Latter-day Saint with the traditional moral scruples ingrained by Church teaching.

The easy answer is the one to which most heterosexual church members adhere--any interaction between two men beyond a good conversation, a handshake or an occasional hug is entirely impermissible. For heterosexuals, that is an easy answer, but for those of us who are gay, the reality is much more complex.

Failing to find intimacy

Since childhood, I’ve had an empty spot in my middle, this unbearable longing for male intimacy—a feeling that at times becomes an overwhelming yearning for oneness.

Understand that I’m not necessarily talking about sex. Realistically, intimacy might involve sex, but to me it is more typically the sharing of an emotional, intellectual, and yes, even spiritual connection that transcends a mere physical act that comes easily and then evaporates quickly.

On sharing secrets...

It's difficult for me to write about private things in a public forum--to bring what others might judge to be secrets and skeletons into the light of day. I rationalize not writing by saying I have nothing to say or that I need to provide the proper context or that I should start at the beginning or whatever excuse feels good at the moment.

But today is different. Today I realize that I am going through an experience that for me is unique--that will reset the course of my life and potentially the lives of those I hold most dear. Documenting that experience is critical. It will serve as a witness, for good or ill, that I chose to be an active partisan in the battle of life and not just a casual bystander. In the end, when my mind wanders and my memory is weak, this blog will be evidence that I through my choices, made a difference.

Kissing the boy next door...

I've known I was "different" since kindergarten. Instead of having a first crush on the little girl across the street, I wanted to kiss the boy next door. One mid-summer afternoon when he and I were alone behind the garage, I grabbed him, pulled him close and planted a quick one squarely on his lips. In return, he slugged me in the stomach and ran home crying.

"Sweetie, I'm Gay"

We had been married for nearly five years when I first confessed the secret of my life. In a fit of frustration and loneliness, I whispered as I lay beside her at the end of a long and difficult day, "Sweetie, I'm gay." In those early years our hormones ran hot, but we kept our intimate fantasies to ourselves. As a result, my wife was surprised by the revelation and failed to grasp its implications. "This shouldn't be a problem," she responded with a yawn. "You love me, right?" "Yes," I said, "I love you." "Then it will all work out," she concluded and fell gently into my arms and an easy sleep.