Falling Into Life: A Gay Exmormon’s Journey

Chapter Fourteen – The Slow, Sad Train Wreck: The Last Twelve Years

My hand was shaking as I dialed the number. I was scared to death of this moment, but knew it had to be done…

I thought that maybe because she was with our lesbian friends, it might go better. I was in love with her, but tortured continually by thoughts of cheating with men and wanting to cheat almost moment to moment. My prayers were always unanswered, God was not helping, my leaders weren’t helping and the endless onslaught of hate in my belief system was drowning me.

When she picked up the phone I was barely able to get it out, but I blurted, “I think I’m gay.” This horror had to end. She responded with silence, incredulous comments, and then she said she’d call me back. I was so happy to have been able to say it. I knew I was a coward for calling her, but I just couldn’t see her devastated face. I was so afraid of hurting her, and all I was doing was hurting her. She had no idea of the depth of the hurt.

I knew we were headed for divorce, and in my mind I was already relieved, she was beyond the ability to stay, so it seemed. Years later I found out that my lesbian friends took her side according to her, and I was baffled. They discussed my selfishness, my terrible actions, and my irresponsibility. My wife said that she would call me, and she immediately set out the next morning to drive home from Phoenix to Colorado. In that short amount of time, she called my mother. My mom persuaded her not to “give up” on me. By the time she arrived back home, she said to me that I could not do that to them, referencing her and my son. I could not believe what I was hearing! I was thunderstruck. Why did she want to keep me?

She stated that I had told her I loved her, and that I simply could not just bail on them. I was wavering in my stance, I was not sure what to do, and because I was Mormon and only had Mormon friends, Mormon family, and Mormon support structures, I was trapped without any help from anyone. I desperately needed to convey how bad this hurt, and how I was unable to control it. But the humiliation factor was insurmountable. There was no one else who might help me help them see that there was no way this was going to work. My hell was only beginning.

I was stranded alone. I was devastated, still feeling so attracted to men, not having any idea how to break her heart further. This was one of the most hellish moments of my life, and it wouldn’t end. I went to see a counselor in the Mormon Church. I was desperate for someone to stop attacking me, to see my heart, what was inside, how I might be able to extricate myself. I hoped that this counselor, who came highly recommended by my Bishop, would have the way. I would be manipulated by this man worse than any other leader in my life. At a point where I needed some respite, I was devastated and trapped. And I wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

When I sat down in front of him, he was calm, and he seemed nice. He led me into a discussion about my feelings when I think about men in order to understand what I was going through. I put my full faith in him, he sounded different from the rest, I saw some hope. As I described my sexual attraction I felt when I saw men, he led me further into it, asking me deeper details about myself. I felt comfortable after about ten minutes with him and so I just let go. I decided I was safe.

He led me to express my sexual thoughts, and I did. I told him that when I see men, I simply felt warm and deeply engaged, and drawn so strongly to them. I explained that when I saw men naked I wanted to touch them, to feel them. I wanted to *have* them, to be with them, to hold them. At that moment, when I really opened up to him, when my heart was telling more truth than I had ever confided in any one person in my life he stopped me, he leaned in, and he said, “Do you see how Satan is controlling you? Can you feel his presence in this room right now?” I was horrified.

In a split second, in a fraction of a moment, instead of letting myself get hurt and harmed further, I snapped back into my shell in blinding speed and I sat up in my chair and I realized that I had been taken advantage of. In a split second my heart was hurt so badly. Looking back, I am surprised that I didn’t incinerate and explode into dust. I wanted to die. I was so hurt, but I wouldn’t let on. I went along with him, I let him hurt me, I let that knife cut my heart so deeply, I let that knife sink in further than ever before, I was surprised my heart kept beating. I was in one moment burned alive and acting like I was being saved. My wavering ended in that moment; I knew I was done for. I got back into the box, and I wouldn’t get out again for another decade.

He immediately took advantage of my complacency; he stood up, walked to his book shelf and told me that although the word “homosexuality” had recently been removed from the therapist’s handbook called the DSM (Diagnostical Statistical Manual), but it was *still* a dysfunction, an addiction, a disease, no matter what the world thought. He reiterated that my Heavenly Father expected me to fight this God-given problem; I was not “born that way”.

He quickly told me about Evergreen, the Mormon Church’s own “reparative therapy” program where I would be healed, where I would be repaired. He told me who to call in order to begin attending weekly meetings. He said I needed to have a Court of Love with my Bishop. He told me Heavenly Father was proud of me for fighting my disease. He told me I could still be saved, if I did what he told me to do.

My Church Court was humiliating, I was becoming used to this humiliating process, I began to see that I would never be at the same “level” as my straight counterparts in the Church. My brother Bob told me that because I had acted out on my homosexuality, Heavenly Father would never extend to me a position of power within the church, I had crossed an unforgivable line even though we believed in forgiveness. During my Court of Love I had to answer any question given me, I lied in order to avoid complete excommunication, I was already on the road to recovery, and so I was Disfellowshipped. I was unable to take the weekly sacrament for one full year, and I could not vote on church issues.

I was tainted with a stain that would never be fully removed. I had admitted the unmentionable sin. Just to admit you are “gay” as a Mormon is such a terrible thing, it’s as if you avoid that moment more than the plague. I remember the visceral embarrassment of it to this day. Palpable disgust. It was as if I had turned in any self respect I might ever have in my life. I knew I would become trash, the flotsam and jetsam of those righteous surrounding me.

I tried to only keep this news inside my family. I confessed to my parents and my siblings as if I was forced to, assuming I might receive some support. They were disgusted in my confession. The message was clear: please do not mention this again, just get back on track. I put on a happy face and kept on going.

I began to believe that I was diseased more than ever before. I told my wife that I definitely wanted to become healed, and that she was right, that I couldn’t just leave them alone, I couldn’t bail on them. I began to take that poison more than ever before. I convinced myself that I had a special view into Satan’s “world”, I read a book equating homosexuality with addictions like drug, alcohol, and eating disorders. I began attending Evergreen, I felt special because I wasn’t copping out. I wasn’t giving up. I wasn’t giving in to Satan.

Evergreen’s principles were being drilled into my head, and I accepted them without question. I *would* be healed of my homosexuality. I would become 100% straight. I would please my parents, my siblings, my Heavenly Father, my wife, my son. Now I would *not* ruin my son or make him sick like I was. I wouldn’t be dragged to hell in Satan’s waiting grasp.

However, Evergreen was of no help. All of them men in my group knew this within weeks, but we tried not to give up. As each Evergreen member slowly quit, I lashed out at them, I told them they were failures, in Satan’s company. I was giving talks to Bishop’s about how to counsel their same-sex attracted members, leading them into Evergreen as I had been. I was trying to not give up, I was hanging on for dear life, and the next ten years were comprised of nothing but the same activities as before. Cheating with men, begging God for help. Nothing changed.

I was more of a hypocrite than ever before. I was more disgusting than I had ever been. My wife tired of discussing my problems, so I just stopped talking about it, and learned to keep lying. Soon going to the Evergreen meetings was becoming a burden on the family, so I stopped attending, but my mind had been warped and I clung to every thing I learned there. I considered myself a “successful” member of Evergreen. I was where everyone wanted me to be. I was where I loathed myself more than ever before.

The highlight of those next ten years were my kids. I loved my kids, and we had two more of them in that time period. I threw myself into loving them as much as I could. I kept making love to my wife, but never instigating it. We took family vacations; I acted the part of the straight dad. I hoped they would love me if anything ever exploded, I was so scared to lose them, and everything was framed in terms of loss. I was well aware what I would lose if Satan got me: My exaltation, my salvation, my family, my children, my livelihood, my health, my mind…my soul.

I kept going to church even as my wife complained more about it. Mormons dedicated astounding amounts of time to church services. At least three hours every Sunday in three meetings: Sacrament Meeting, Sunday School, and Priesthood or Relief Society. On top of this there were weekly activities almost every night. And then there was the expectation to go to the temple for further ceremonies. The more she complained the harder it was for me to keep the rattling to a minimum. I was astounded that she’d attack the gospel as it was the one thing keeping me from leaving. I’m sure she didn’t understand this, but it was true. Without that church, I wasn’t so sure I could stay “straight”.

After a decade of putting myself on ice, and cheating with a man somewhere between monthly to every six months, I was at my wits end. The cycle of cheating and self-loathing was making me feel lifeless and terrifically disingenuous. I felt dead inside, as I got older my sexual drive towards men increased.

After September 11^th, I looked for a real relationship with a man. Instead of just cheating with men as I had done since the age of twenty-four, I would look for someone I could be with more than once. What was it like to have an open relationship with a guy? I had never once allowed myself to speak again to any man I cheated with. Hit and run. Throw all phone numbers scribbled on notes out the window. Cut off the feeling, drive away, God would somehow understand.

I started looking at gay.com, and other gay connection sites online. I created a profile, no picture. I met a married man online and he told me about this Yahoo group called CLR. It stood for Closed-Loop Relationships, and I thought that it was perfect for me! Here was a group of men who believed that they could stay married, find a male partner on the side with whom they could be “monogamous”, and live out their lives. This reduced the unsafe cheating aspect, and it pleased God better than just “giving up”. I realized that *this* is what men were doing! This is how they managed it.

I was intrigued, he seemed genuine and he was strappingly handsome. I decided to try it out; it would allow me to solve my problems. This was perfect! I found a way to somehow find this middle place where I wouldn’t go crazy seeking sex, I could focus on a relationship, and I could stay married. What a concept! We would meet for sex, sometimes we’d meet to hike and talk about our families. I felt myself starting to break, and one hike I laid down and I tried to explain to him my situation with the church. I was in anguish, I remember the day so clearly, it was autumn, the sky was blindingly blue, and the sun was streaking my teary vision. I was beginning to fall apart. The church and my sexuality were tearing into pieces. I could almost hear it, like Velcro being ripped in two.

I kept my affair quiet, and I worked on the church first. This was when I began going to recovery websites. As I continued to see him, to feel loved by him, to be accepted in a real “gay relationship”, I was finding a way to leave the church’s iron grip on my heart. I read The Four Agreements, I began to learn how to stand up for myself. I pushed back on fear tactics. I sought rational thought processes, and I officially left the Mormon Church.

In the next two years, my relationship with my wife deteriorated, and my relationship with my CLR partner did, too. He wouldn’t accept the fact that we were “gay”. I was flabbergasted! He was Christian, and was in denial of that fact, only seeing us as broken same-sex attracted Christian men that must never “give up”. I tried to keep having sex with my wife, but now needed Viagra to keep it up. Both relationships were careening into oblivion. My wife and I were fighting more than ever before, and I decided to cut off my affair.

I realized that the CLR theory was severely flawed: how in the world could I take on someone else’s family and stay hidden? I was *least genuine* in this situation than I had ever been. In my quest to find myself, I had become even more complicated. I was desperate to be free of everything! Of the church, of my marriage, of my affair. My wife and I had one last fight, my packed suitcase was waiting, I stepped out of the house and into a thunderstorm. My genuine life began.

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