Falling Into Life: A Gay Exmormon’s Journey

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Can You Help a Trapped Gay Man? Part 1: Letter from a Friend

As I have been sharing my story, some of my friends have provided me their take on my situation. It has been tremendously cathartic, and interesting to see how people have interacted with me in various stages of my life experience. The following is from a friend who I have known for fifteen years:

In 1993 you sat in our living room with Allen and during the course of conversation you revealed to him that there was a point in your youth (jr high?) when you thought you “might be gay”. Allen told me the next day that you had a really tough road ahead of you, because you were gay. Again, my first reaction was doubt. Allen said to me, “He said that he had a moment where he thought he “might be gay”. Shawna, straight men do not have that moment. Gay men do.”

Oh my gosh, my heart broke for you. Not because you were gay, but because you were gay and married to an awesome woman whom you clearly loved, and you were a daddy and completely head-over-heels devoted to Max, and because you were a Mormon and had told us all about your family and how much you had already fought their judgment.

I very STUPIDLY believed that you didn’t know you were gay yet. (I’ll wait till you stop laughing to continue…) I know, I was an idiot. I prayed and prayed and prayed that God would ease you into this realization and transition like a smooth landing on a commercial airline flight – an initial jolt, maybe a couple of bumps, and then roll on into your final destination with a sense of relief. I prayed for J, because I knew that her world would shatter. I prayed for your kids, that they’d get what they needed from you and J.

With each child that was born in your family, I thought, “he’s still having sex with J…he still doesn’t know…”. I ached for you and for your family. I thought that I needed to sit back and wait for you to REALIZE that you were gay, then just “be here” if you wanted to talk or find support. I stood here on the sidelines with my hands in my pockets and my mouth zipped shut and believed that was the best thing I could do for you, my friend. I was such a freakin’ idiot.

When you emailed me and told me that you had left the Mormon Church, I knew in my heart it was the first step on your journey to YOU. (Little did I know, it was your millionth step.) I picked up the phone and called Allen first – I was this weird mix of worried and excited. Excited that you were making it right in your life. Worried because I knew you would go through a tremendous amount of pain. (Again, little did I know, it was not the beginning of your pain.) I picked up the phone and called you, and you poured out to me how you had discovered some truths about Mormonism online, and it had unraveled everything for you.

You said that J was furious about leaving the Mormon Church, because she had built a life there – for you. I remember thinking, “please…don’t make her build a new life with you outside the church…please, just let yourself be gay….please, just let J stay where she’s comfortable and you move onto what you need to move on to.” But I didn’t say a word. Instead I just listened and tried to support whatever part of the journey you were on. But I did not know what part of the journey you were on. I had NO IDEA. I was an idiot.

When you and Max came to our house on Stanley Street, it seemed like every time the kids were out of ear shot for a moment you would tell us how hot “non Mormon sex” was with J. You loved her body, loved seeing her arms, loved all of it. I was so frustrated. Allen said for the first time in over a decade that maybe he was wrong, maybe you weren’t gay. I told Allen that I had never been more sure of your homosexuality than I was then. Still not knowing if YOU knew you were gay or not (please…did I say I was an idiot?) I told Allen, “I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince…he’s either trying to convince us he’s not gay, or he’s trying to convince himself he’s not gay. But that is a man who is trying to convince someone he’s straight. Let me tell you now, he is gay, gay, gay.”

It was so frustrating. I wanted to sit you down, stare you in the eye, and say, “really? REALLY?”.

I prayed harder. If you were fighting so hard to “not be gay”, it must have been incredibly painful for you. I knew I could barely begin to fathom what you were going through, and knowing this made me ache on your behalf.

I got pregnant with C at this point in the story, and although I love her more than words can describe, that first trimester was horrid. One day during that first trimester, I was in my dark bedroom, laying in bed with the curtains shut and the lights off in the middle of the day. The phone rang, and I wasn’t going to answer it…but when I rolled over and saw the caller ID lit up with your name on it, I couldn’t resist.

You said, “J and I are separating.” My breath caught in my throat, and I said, with great anticipation and hope, “uh-huh…” and then you said it – “and I’m gay.” I smiled through the tears that instantly blurred my vision. I even grasped my heart through my pj’s and mouthed a little “thank you!” to God.

My only question: “are you happy, Steve?” You said that you were happy, and went on to tell me about the arrangement you and J had made. I was SO HAPPY for you. I told you – “I’m so happy that you’re happy!”. I meant it from the bottom of my heart. That had been my prayer for over a decade – that after all the bumps in the landing, you’d roll safely into your destination. YOU WERE HAPPY! What more could I ask for?

I did not know the bumps had lasted nearly your entire life. I did not know that the bumps took you to dark places that I could not imagine possible. I did not know that you KNEW you were gay and were told to CHANGE it for years and years and years. Knowing that people were telling you these things make me want to throw up. I want to turn back the clock and run down to your apartment in Fort Morgan where the little finch in the kitchen was always squawking and say, “Steve! I know! I know! You are awesome, you are my friend, and I know!!!”

You may have hated me for it then. You might have told me I was offensive and wrong and cut me out of your life. But at least you would have had that one little voice in the back of your mind, saying, “I know you are gay, and I’m telling you that you are AWESOME.” Even if it was from someone you hated.

Now you know you are awesome. ) But maybe it would have helped to hear it fifteen years ago. I’m sorry.

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