In the last few weeks, I’ve been dealing with some depression. It happens to me occasionally, and because of my own mental instabilities, I tend to obsess on the depression. I, as always, attempted to fill the void and placate the overwhelming sensation with food, shopping, and booze. More or less, I just buried the things I needed to deal with instead of confronting them. It culminated in my feeling inadequate, unwanted, unattractive, and useless, followed by hours of tears, a late night conversation with a good friend, and a few dozen nightmarish fantasies about ending my own life. The worst part of it, in the wake of the suicides across this nation, I was thinking of ending it all over something foolish. Thankfully, those thoughts were fleeting, and even while the moments of time that captured those feelings seemed like an eternity, I was able to get past them. After I cleared my head a bit, I started thinking about why I felt the way I did. It wasn’t the first time I had felt that way in my life, and though it had been years since I had considered it, the feeling was all too familiar and indescribable. I decided it was time for me to figure out why my mind goes to such lengths in my darkest moments, and after a discussion with my roommate Angie, I was able to come to some solid conclusions.
I don’t have to feel ashamed or foolish for feeling that way. My heart was hurting over something that I believed was important, however superficial the world might find it. I have to wonder, if some of those other young men and women felt the same way. If it wasn’t just the bullying that got them to that point. Perhaps they felt like no one cared about what they were feeling, no one cared how much they hurt inside. What if it wasn’t just because they were made to feel inadequate or unworthy of life, but maybe because they had convinced themselves that no one would listen. I know for myself that I felt trapped in my emotions, helpless with no where to turn. Hopeless. I think now that’s the point that all suicide victims get to, that feeling of hopeless. That’s why they take the permanent solution…the problem for them, at least in their minds, isn’t temporary. I survived my attempt way back in high school, and twice more in the last 2 decades, because I was able to push through the hopelessness, because someone cared enough to make it better. Someone took the time to stand behind me and throw my ass over the obstacle that I couldn’t cross on my own. Thank the gods for those people.
So, I’m sure at this point, those of you who know me now, and some of the ones who knew me then, are wondering how someone with my strength of will and emotional fortitude could get to that point. Well, let me tell you…
No one is immune to pain of loneliness and hopelessness. Some, however are fortunate to be normal enough by society’s standards that they easily push past it. But, for those of us who stand outside the social norm, the task of surmounting the odds, crossing the bridges over troubled waters, isn’t so easy. In 1992, during my freshman year of high school, I reached that point where I believed that it would never get better. I was the fat kid, the last one chosen. I was the nerd, whose only contribution was being able to help the popular kids with their homework. I was the kid that got called fag, queer, and homo. I remember once in the locker room, one of those bullies turned to me and asked me if I wanted to suck his dick, which was quickly followed by a host of laughter from his friends. I remember thinking to myself, "do they really know I’m gay?" I kept it hidden, not well perhaps, but I never really admitted it, except to one or two people. They kept my secret well. I spent most of that year in constant fear that someone was going to find out the truth. Every day, standing outside of the bandroom waiting on my ride home, one boy would come up to me and punch me in the stomach. A line of parents waiting to pick up their children and a slough of other students watched as he shoved me into the wall and punched me repeatedly. They did nothing. I think that was the turning point for me. That was when I truly believed that no one cared. I wrote a letter, pouring my emotions into every word, hoping that something would inspire me, that someone would read it and know my pain. It never happened. I went one afternoon in tears to a teacher I thought I could trust. I handed her the letter, and I will never in my life forget what she said, "I’m not equipped or trained to handle this, and I don’t have time for the foolish games children play." I threw the letter in the trash can, as I walked slowly out of the classroom, 100% sure that it would never get better and that no one cared. That afternoon, while sitting in my parent’s living room, I decided that no one would miss me. Being a kid of above average intelligence, I crafted a plan, and set it into motion. (I’m not going into details because I don’t want to feed ideas.) The next day at school, I went about my normal routine. I ignored everyone, anticipating the release of my daily torment…48 hrs and counting. I skipped a meeting for basketball homecoming, hid in the breezeway til I saw my ride, and headed home. I did my homework, wrote my letter, and began my march toward the end. I lay in bed that night, praying to the god of my father, the spirits of my ancestors, and listening to the wind outside my window, wondering if an answer would come. My night was sleepless. I got up at the same time, ate the same food, got in the same car, and walked into the same classrooms. I don’t think anyone noticed me. As I watched the clock, waiting for the 2:55 bell to rang, I was almost giddy with the idea that it would all soon be over. The bell chimed, and I ran out of the door. As I rounded the corner on my way to the bandroom, I ran into Erik Olexa. He was one of those good looking, popular kids that everyone liked. I didn’t know him all that well, but he was way above me on the social ladder, and I was sure that he was about to pound me for bumping into him. I was wrong. He smiled and said, "Missed you at the meeting yesterday." Did he really just say that? He missed me? I responded with something mundane and ran on past. When I arrived at the bandroom, the bully who used me as a punching bag was standing at the wall waiting and pounding his fist. I just decided to take it, it wouldn’t matter in a few more hours anyway. As the daily beating commenced, a mother of a young man whom I went to school with, got our of her car, and pulled him off of me. I don’t remember much of what she said, but it consisted of her telling him to leave me alone and reassuring me that I could stand up for myself and to stop letting people push me around. It baffled me. Did she really care? I made it home that afternoon, called my mom to tell her I made it home, and when I was sure no one would interrupt me…I sat down on the edge of the bath tub and stared at the implement of my destruction. It would look like an accident, and no one would know the truth until someone found the letter hidden in the pages of my journal. I sat there thinking about all the shit I had endured: every vile name, every cut and bruise, every unnoticed moment…and then I remembered Erik and that mother. Something changed in me at that moment. For whatever reason, I decided not to do it. I thought about what the woman had said and changed my plan. For the rest of my high school career, I never let anyone else get me down. The names didn’t stop, but it didn’t matter…I just started telling people to shut the fuck up. When someone pushed me, I pushed back. When someone insulted me, I destroyed them emotionally. When they called me a fag, I responded with "Are you looking for a boyfriend?" Eventually, I was one of the kids no one messed with. I gained new friends and joined the ranks of the respected.
My college years were spent in a whirlwind of alcohol, drugs, and sex with any guy who found me attractive. I lost a lot of weight, worked out, changed my clothes and hair, and became one of popular kids. I eventually met Brian, who I thought was the love of my life. We spent two years together, planning our future. Then, my family had some problems that needed my assistance. I moved back home and thus began a downhill spiral. I went back into the closet to protect my father’s good name, lived a "good Christian family man", and dedicated my life to education and being "normal." I was fucking miserable. Seven years I lived a lie because of the uneducated, ignorant, opinions of others. An end finally came to all of that, I moved away and found friends that loved me for who I was….a gay pagan with asperger’s syndrome. Several years past and all was well. Then my health took a turn for the worse. I had a falling out with one of my best friends. I lost my job, my car, and eventually my home. As I stared quietly at the empty house, I remember thinking it was alot like me…empty and alone. I tied a belt to the headboard of the bed, placed it around my neck, and drank a bottle of scotch, hoping I would pass out and suffocate. Who knew that years of binge drinking in college would eventually save my life. I didn’t pass out, I cried a lot and threw up. I picked up the phone and called Lou. She talked me down off my ledge, and said "Princess, more people love you and need you than you know. What would we do without our Jase?" She then began to list all of the people who relied on me. All the friends that come to me for advise, the young people who modeled their lives after my example, the students that need an educator who believed in preparing them for life. She spoke of names and places that I had forgotten, and what’s even more bizarre, is…one by one over the next few days, the majority of them came to see me. Some just to say hi. Crystal and Tandi, Andy McCaleb, Charles, Natalie and Sayward, Chris, Bob and Maria, and my Grace. Craig and Amanda stopped in, Spencer and Goose offered to let me stay with them til I got back on my feet. I was amazed. Life was suddenly much fuller, and I felt like living again.
I got back on my feet thanks to the people listed above. I decided to stop living for others and to live for me. I decided I was going to make my life better. I moved to California at the beckoning of my friend and spiritual sister, Crystal Ravenwolf. She had seen my ups and downs for years, and kept telling me it would get better. She assured me that I would find someone that would love me no matter who I was or what I looked like. I moved in with her and her family. They in turn introduced me to new people, more friends ( like Heather and Patrick, Alohra and Truman Baga, Emily Burnias, and Lori Todd), and to a world that I had only dreamed existed containing amazing friends like Jason Scott, R.J. Gray, Jaymi Morgan, Matt Cornell, Scotti Maldonado, and Cass Caprioti. I was able to walk down the street with my flame burning bright, and no one cared. Through her and those connections, I found David, who is the love of my life. He is tolerant of my faults and loves them for their uniqueness. He thinks smart is sexy, and even while I whine about not being young, thin, and pretty, he consistently assures me that I am the most beautiful person he has ever seen. Through David I’ve added Angie and Randol, Brad and Kayla, Kelly, Matt and a plethora of others to my chosen family, and my life is better. The last few days I have felt unworthy of their friendship, frail, waining, ugly, fat, and old. I looked in the mirror at the laugh lines, crows feet, and beer gut…and realized that I would never be what I was back in the old days. I missed young, hot guys thinking I was sexy. I longed for the days when sex was a flirt around the corner. I reveled in my vanity and superficial thoughts, and that all too familiar wave of hopelessness shattered my world. I walked out of the bathroom, saw David’s pocket knife on the desk, and thought "I’ve got the knowledge and the means to end it all. I’ll never have to know the torment of growing old and being unattractive." I know it sounds dumb, but I wanted it so bad, but Cass was there to stop me, and Angie was waiting with some sage advice…"Let’s do something to help you not feel helpless."
That was when it hit me. The common thing in every episode of my life when I wanted to end it all came because I felt helpless…hopeless. That’s what all these young people are feeling when they are bullied and pushrd around. It’s not just about being gay, unattractive, unpopular, or different. It’s about feeling desolate and alone. It’s about not believing that it WILL get better. I know because I’ve been there. It’s one thing to tell them it gets better, but that’s not enough. It certainly wasn’t enough for me. Someone actually did something for me. A smile, a handshake, a nod, a grin, stopping by, calling, missing me, loving me, taking the time to listen to me. They became ACTIVE parts of my life…and instead of just saying "It gets better," they showed me. That made all the difference.
The song, "As I Am", from The Big Gay Musical, is inspirational. I think it should be our anthem to the world. For everyone who is different, standing outside of the norm, or just feeling like you don’t belong…this song, was written for you… Here are the words. Take them and use them. Make it better for someone else.
As I Am
"Forgive me. I didn’t realize ’till now, that our cold self righteous words could hurt you so.
I was taught, very young, by those who came before me, to fear and condemn the things I don’t know.
There is fear in the hearts of those that would change you
Fear of the light that shines from you.
They don’t know that light was designed by God
Who gave it a brilliant and beautiful hue.
And to those who would change you, or send you away;
You must proudly stand your ground and say…
I was put on this earth As I Am.
I was born with my own special blessings.
I’ll let them shine, and not give a damn,
I was put on this earth, As I am.
There is envy in those, who recklessly judge you.
Wishing their hearts could love like yours.
They don’t understand they can reach within
And find all the love, forgiveness restores.
And to those who condemn you in fury and shame
You must proudly plant your feet and proclaim…
I was put on this earth as I am.
I was put here to live as His creation.
And I know I’m loved, in virtue and sin.
I’m calm and content, within my own skin.
I was put on this earth as I am.
I was born with my own special blessings.
I’ll let them shine and not give a damn
I was put on this earth, As I Am."
I say all of that to say this… If you want to tell someone "It gets better"…make sure you’re using more than words. Do something. Make a difference.
Love and light to you all.
Jase
And Natasha, Virginia, and Sandra…Thanks…I wouldn’t have made it without you.
