one step forward, two steps back

I’m looking at my phone, waiting for a reply. I was vulnerable, tried to meet up with the a guy I know we have a connection with.

Can we meet after 4? I called at 4. Benefit of doubt, there might be a good reason for not picking up.

I numb my brain, distract, some anime that I’m really not interested in. It’s convoluted, I don’t know what’s going on. Alone in my apartment, I always am. I don’t remember the last time someone else was here with me.

What the fuck? 6 o’clock. I hear japanese but I’m looking at my phone. A weight on my chest and neck, breath shallow. I don’t understand. What the hell are they talking about?

text message – really? A text message? I fucking called you over 2 hours ago, and you send a text message? I’m tired … blah blah … tomorrow?

coward! child! you’re not worth my time!

But I want this, his beard against my cheek, to sleep next to him, his snores disturbing my sleep.

You’re not good enough, what’s why he didn’t call you back. You’re only worth a text message. He doesn’t want to talk to you. Look at you, you’re scared.

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Ranting uncovers my insecurities

Ranting can be cathartic. I think people who journal or write know this well. I read somewhere that stream of consciousness writing has been proven through studies as an effective tool for people experiencing a mood disorder. But it’s hard for people supporting someone with <insert disorder> to cope through a rant. In my life, they just don’t know what to do.

A close friend got an eyeful tonight. Circumstances triggered my insecurities. This friend has more than enough to try to cope with, and I feel selfish to send the email. But I did and now I’ve posted it here. I am going to write more for this blog: it is evident that I need to.

Hi.

I felt like I needed to share this article with you. But I don’t know if I’m sharing this for my own reasons, or for you. Typing this email, I’m reminded of when I spoke to my supervisor about self disclosure. She asked me to reflect on the intention of the self disclosure, is it for me, or for the other person. Does the desire to share come from a place to validate my own experience/feelings, or is this really about a positive impact for the other person?
I probably over think this kind of shit. I think we talked about this earlier today, but I have come to judge myself for being negative, or, for talking about my sadness or pain. I feel that to maintain relationships, I have to either self censor my emotions, or, put on a brave face. I have experienced people close to me drift away or look uncomfortable when I talk about what goes on in my head.
And I really do admire how you are changing right now. Your focus on gratefulness is a perspective I’ve not been able to maintain. And I don’t, for not even one second, want to disrupt your positive reframing of your perspective. This strategy seems right for you at this time. You’re a kinder person, you draw strength from spirituality and you see goodness in people, even if you sometimes don’t see it in yourself.

Dawson’s Creek and Gay Male Representation in Media

I loved the US TV show Dawson’s Creek. It really was overly dramatic teenage tripe (read: that made me love the show even more), but 15 years ago, in the Season 3 finale, it showed primetime television’s first passionate kiss between 2 men. Even though it was a secondary plot arc in the series, this event had a huge impact on me, and solidified Dawson’s Creek as a seminal series of my adolescence. (Is there a pun there? Totally unintended.)

Between the ages of 15-18, the television series accompanied me through some emotionally turbulent, and even traumatic times. I had realised that I was attracted to men; I attended an all boys high school; I was closeted, having only come out to 3 people (1 of which was traumatic); I was marginalised for the perception of being gay. I don’t know if it was bullying, but it was continuous. Throw in the adolescent mood swings, hormones, and budding attraction to some classmates, and I got lonely teenage years.

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What Is It To Be A Non-Practising *Insert Identity Here*?

Happy Mardi Gras!

I’m giving fair warning: this post may get a bit heavy and is NOT a post about being so-called “ex-gay”. Also, personally, I prefer the label/identity “same-sex attracted” rather than “gay”, but in this post I am using the term “gay” for ease.


If a rainbow zebra loses its stripes, is it still a zebra, or is it just a horse?

For me, this is not a rhetorical question, though it seems like it should be. And it is making me feel anxious and my mood low. The Mardi Gras Festival and Parade is on in Sydney right now. I usually (and think that I should) feel PRIDE in my own difference, PRIDE in being a part of the LGBTQI+ community. But I feel like I’ve lost my rainbow stripes, my gay cred, my membership expired from lack of use.

Maybe a false assumption, but a huge part of gay identity is a sexual identity: being or wanting to be in a gay relationship, having or wanting to have gay sex. My body doesn’t demand another’s sexual touch, doesn’t crave and search for opportunities for sex. Fear obscures my desire of being in an emotional gay relationship. And this situation is not new. It has been many moons since I have acted on a sexual impulse.

Walking through the Fair Day event, through sun, glitter, rainbows and skin, I did not feel a part of the community. I felt alone and apart. Projections I’m sure, but I saw the normal social practice of people wanting and creating intimate emotional relationships. I sensed in others the want to get laid. I remember a time that I did want gay stuff, so I’m not asexual, but that spark of desire has gone missing. The crucial aspect to my gayness, my gay identity, is gone.

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Missing in the Future. A Small Dose of Generalised Anxiety.

The back of my throat, a tightening, in constant contraction, like I want to throw up. The back of the neck and head radiates heat. Arms, hands and feet tingle yet are still. I do nothing; fearing yet living in the future.


I am Missing In Action in my own head. Thoughts race around in a cyclone, ephemeral like smoke. I’m finding it harder to write this post, as thoughts are not structuring in my head, so I’m just going try to loosely stream my consciousness on to the screen.

I am not confident that I can handle this state of mind. Not that it is definitive, but my psych has not diagnosed me with generalised anxiety. Depression and anxiety mostly come hand in hand though, like the other sock in a pair. I’m not on any medication for anxiety, and most of the personal work that I have done if for depression. I am trying to use my mindfulness techniques for my racing mind, but it is like grasping at smoke, or trying to calmly watch whilst being in the centre of a whirlwind.  Continue reading

Part 2 Another Marriage, but Why Aren’t I Happy? or, Heterosexual Privilege in Marriage

2 days ago I wrote this post Another Marriage, but Why Aren’t I Happy?. It was written hurriedly between attending a wedding ceremony and the reception. I tried to capture my down mood and anxiety at that moment. Now, though, it is 2 days after and after travelling interstate, I am back at home. I haven’t read all the comments on the original post, nor have I reread it. I can’t even remember all that I wrote.


For the most part, I did enjoy the reception party. I walked into the room; a reasonable sense of control of my negative emotions. Over 200 guests, all dressed up, milling around or sitting, having pleasant conversation. I weaved through the small groups of people, found my table at the front, and poured myself a glass of wine. I was aware of my chirpy facade. People asked me what I did after the ceremony. I said that I tried to nap and did some creative writing – not quite a lie.

The night did become more enjoyable the more free wine that I drank. Speeches were emotional and almost brought me to tears. I watched the faces of the bride and groom, raw with joy, as their loved ones expressed their happiness of the union. In that moment, I shared that joy. But now, I wonder, if I was to marry, what would be said on that day? Would my parents say a speech? What would they say? I know that I am catastrophising in my head; my self-doubt influences my imagination. But there was such strong emotional and cultural significance reflected in the speeches, like the marriage marked the next stage of their life journey, almost akin to rite of passage that made them more “complete”. I feel like I am lacking. Maybe a lot of single people feel this. Maybe I feel this because of my mood disorder. But I feel that, because I am same-sex attracted and want to fall in love with another man, this feeling is different to my peers. I can not experience this rite, this cultural institution, and will not be complete.  Continue reading

Another Marriage, but Why Aren’t I Happy?

Sitting, white hotel sheets crushed.

A pillow to the side; not for resting, but for holding.

Wait. Alone. Wait for the party to begin.

This bed is too big.


I write this post in the interim period between attending a wedding ceremony and attending the reception.


Today I attended another wedding. I have known the groom my whole life. Before his bride arrived, he was smiling and joking at the church. And when the couple were first announced as husband and wife, they both beamed in such a genuine way, that my heart ached.

I am was overwhelmed with happiness for the two people in front of me. They have found their best friend, and declared that. Though, for me, weddings are always a conflicting experience. On one hand, I have positive emotions for the 2 people, but on the other hand, I feel sadness that I don’t have someone to call my partner in life, and I also feel inferior, because I can’t get married.

LGBTQI rights have come a long way in Australia, but same-sex marriage is still a dream. These feelings of inferiority come from the reminder that my expression of love and intimacy can not be publicly declared to be recognised by the state. My expression of love is not as worthy as theirs. I in no way begrudge others from getting married, but every time I go to a wedding I feel sad.

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