First things first tonight ... I'd like to announce that the stupid head doctor henceforth will forever be known as the life-saving head doctor. I used the "p" word and made a promise to her that she would receive a new moniker following my New Year's Day post. Speaking of the life-saving head doctor and my "Easier to Die" post, I'd like to say something before I launch into tonight's blog entry. I've complained and griped and whined a lot over the last year about having to see the head doctor ... OK ... I've complained and griped and whined a lot about having to see all of my doctors ... but I've especially done it a lot about the head doctor. The truth is she has played a huge role in saving my life, and I am grateful for her in ways that words can never express. Many people have contacted me over the last three days who are dealing with very difficult life and death issues, and if you are one of those dear people ... please, please, please hear me when I say this ... find a doctor, a life-saving head doctor, to help you the way mine has helped, and continues to help me. You don't have to try to do it alone ... you absolutely do not have to try to do it alone.
The day after I posted "Easier to Die," I received a message from a young man whom I've never met. I asked his permission to share his message, and he agreed. "My name is Gary and i'm 18
years old. I got your number from a person who knows you that shared your blog
last night. I was going to kill myself this weekend. Had all my plans ready. Then I read your blog. I'm telling my parents tonight I'm gay. It would be
easier to die but if you can do it and live maybe so can I." Gary and I have been messaging back and forth since Wednesday, and he did tell his parents and he began seeing a counselor today. I believe with all my heart that Gary is going to make it ... I believe that Gary is going to live rather than die, and that, friends, that young man reading my post and choosing to live is worth it all.
Young Gary has asked me many questions over the last three days, as have many of you. And as I said earlier this week, I have many questions of my own to which I'm not sure I will ever know the answers. I'm going to try tonight, however, to answer a few that have been posed to me repeatedly this week. But after that ... well, after that, I'm going to get back to writing about the things that matter most to me. Though I was incredibly humbled by the kind words of my friend in her guest blog, one thing she said is true ... "Not one of
these things alone defines her, but a combination of all of her attributes
makes Terrie who she is." I know that it's at the top of the list now for some of you, but my sexuality isn't what defines me or makes me who I am. After I answer some of your questions tonight concerning that one small part of me, I'm going to get back to writing about the people and things that matter most to me. I'm going to get back to writing about God and His unconditional, unfailing love ... about the journey of life we all share ... about lessons in the big and little things we encounter along the way ... about the funny and the goofy and the sad and the serious. But for tonight ... for tonight, I'm going to try to answer some of your questions about Tuesday's post and hope once again that you will read my words with hearts of love and compassion ... that you will read my words through the eyes of my guest blogger ... "And to me, she's a friend. And to me, that's all that really matters."
1) How long have you known you were gay? I don't remember exactly how old I was when I first knew that I was attracted to girls rather than boys, but it was when I was in elementary school.
2) Did your children know that you were posting the blog, and did they feel that you should? Yes, my children all read the blog before I posted it. My children want nothing more than for me to be healthy, both mentally and physically. From the day I talked with my children back in October, they have been loving, supportive and encouraging in every way. And I'll answer another question here that I've been asked a ton ... when I told my children, all three of them said they had known for many, many years. And no, I was never in a relationship ... my children (along with a ton of other people) just knew.
3) Why did you choose to come out now? I really don't have a definitive answer to this question other than to say that trying to continue to hide was quite literally killing me from the inside out. The day that I lost it at work and my friend took me into the conference room, I remember saying over and over again ... "I'm so tired. I'm so tired of trying to be who everyone else wants me to be. I just can't do it anymore. I'm so tired." I chose to be honest about who I am now, because I simply couldn't carry the burden of pretense any longer ... I just couldn't do it any longer. Though I had opened up to several people in my life, I still felt as though I was living a lie.
4) What is your relationship with God? Do you still have one? As I said in my post on Tuesday, my faith has been rocked to its very core, and I've questioned more times than I can count why God gave me life. I do know that I love God with all my heart, and I believe that He loves me. As to my relationship with Him now, as is true with all believers, it's a work in progress that will go on until I draw my last breath. For all that I don't know, I know to the innermost depth of my soul that God's love, grace and mercy is for all people, including me.
Including me ... those are words to close this post with, friends ... God's love is for all people, including me and Gary. Take care of yourself, young man ... stay strong and keep breathing. For my sake and yours, hang on, young brother, hang on.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
4-Way Stop
When I was a senior in high school, my dad bought me a brand new, light blue 1977 Honda Civic. It was one of those itsy-bitsy Civics that looked kind of like a box on wheels. And I loved, loved, loved that little car and drove it until it had almost 300,000 miles on it. In fact, the only reason I sold it was because I got pregnant with Matt and needed a bigger, more reliable car ... yep, I went from a cute, awesome little Honda Civic to an ugly, brownish-gold Dodge minivan. But you know what? It didn't matter even a little bit to me what I drove after Mattie was born because I was a mom, and all I cared about was that my baby boy was safe as we motored along.
I've got another confession to make ... don't worry, it's not a life-changing one this time ... I have gotten a few traffic citations in my day, and I got most of those citations when I was in college. In fact, I've only gotten two tickets since my children were born, and both of them, of course, were mistakes on the part of the officers who pulled me over. Of course they were. Most of my college-years tickets involved ... ummm ... traveling a tiny bit faster than the numbers posted on those ridiculous white signs that are on the sides of roads, and one of them may have possibly involved trying to ... ummm ... make a few quick turns through a neighborhood in an attempt to get away from one of those officers who was trying to give me a ticket for driving a mere mile or two above the posted speed limit. But the one citation I remember most was the one I got for going through a 4-way stop without ... ummm ... stopping. In my own defense, it was 4 a.m. and there were no other cars at the intersection. I mean, come on ... what's the point of stopping at a 4-way stop in the wee hours of the morning when there are no other cars? Yeah, I know ... sometimes the way my brain works scares me, too.
Every evening when I'm almost home from work, I drive up to a 4-way stop sign. And many of those evenings ... like tonight, in fact ... I'm the only car at the intersection. And almost every time that happens, I think about that night (or morning, I guess) when I was 22 years old and I got a ticket for blowing through the 4-way stop without stopping. And when my mind drifts back to getting that ticket, I begin thinking about how many other dumb and dangerous things I did behind the wheel of my little blue Honda Civic. I begin thinking a lot about intersections ... intersections that have 4-way stop signs posted at the end of each of the four roads to keep the travelers on those roads from crashing into one another. And then I begin thinking about how those travelers are all coming from different directions, driving different cars and going different places. The one thing they have in common is that they all eventually end up at the intersection and have to stop at the 4-way stop. They have to stop or risk getting a ticket or causing an accident.
I tend to believe that when something like the 4-way stop and the intersection gets stuck in my head the way it has this evening, there must be a reason ... there must be a lesson that God wants to teach me, and I think there might possibly be a really big one in this one. The truth is that in life, we are all coming from different directions ... we are all driving different vehicles ... we are all going to different places. There will always be intersections in life, times when we all arrive at a 4-way stop at the same time. It's those times when we have a choice to make. Either we pay attention to one another and use care as we proceed or we ignore our fellow travelers, focus only on our own wants or needs, and charge forward and cause a huge crash ... a huge crash that breaks someone's heart, wounds someone's spirit, smashes someone's soul.
When I come to the 4-way stops in life, God ... when I come to the places where the road I'm traveling intersects the roads of others, Lord ... help me to appreciate the differences. Help me to recognize that we are all at the same place ... help me to marvel at where we came from ... help me to see the beauty in what carried us there ... help me to wonder at where we are going. Help me to appreciate the differences, Father ... to stop, to wait, to proceed with lovingkindness, compassion, gentleness, understanding and love. When I come to the 4-way stops in life, Lord ... help me to see You on every corner.
I've got another confession to make ... don't worry, it's not a life-changing one this time ... I have gotten a few traffic citations in my day, and I got most of those citations when I was in college. In fact, I've only gotten two tickets since my children were born, and both of them, of course, were mistakes on the part of the officers who pulled me over. Of course they were. Most of my college-years tickets involved ... ummm ... traveling a tiny bit faster than the numbers posted on those ridiculous white signs that are on the sides of roads, and one of them may have possibly involved trying to ... ummm ... make a few quick turns through a neighborhood in an attempt to get away from one of those officers who was trying to give me a ticket for driving a mere mile or two above the posted speed limit. But the one citation I remember most was the one I got for going through a 4-way stop without ... ummm ... stopping. In my own defense, it was 4 a.m. and there were no other cars at the intersection. I mean, come on ... what's the point of stopping at a 4-way stop in the wee hours of the morning when there are no other cars? Yeah, I know ... sometimes the way my brain works scares me, too.
Every evening when I'm almost home from work, I drive up to a 4-way stop sign. And many of those evenings ... like tonight, in fact ... I'm the only car at the intersection. And almost every time that happens, I think about that night (or morning, I guess) when I was 22 years old and I got a ticket for blowing through the 4-way stop without stopping. And when my mind drifts back to getting that ticket, I begin thinking about how many other dumb and dangerous things I did behind the wheel of my little blue Honda Civic. I begin thinking a lot about intersections ... intersections that have 4-way stop signs posted at the end of each of the four roads to keep the travelers on those roads from crashing into one another. And then I begin thinking about how those travelers are all coming from different directions, driving different cars and going different places. The one thing they have in common is that they all eventually end up at the intersection and have to stop at the 4-way stop. They have to stop or risk getting a ticket or causing an accident.
I tend to believe that when something like the 4-way stop and the intersection gets stuck in my head the way it has this evening, there must be a reason ... there must be a lesson that God wants to teach me, and I think there might possibly be a really big one in this one. The truth is that in life, we are all coming from different directions ... we are all driving different vehicles ... we are all going to different places. There will always be intersections in life, times when we all arrive at a 4-way stop at the same time. It's those times when we have a choice to make. Either we pay attention to one another and use care as we proceed or we ignore our fellow travelers, focus only on our own wants or needs, and charge forward and cause a huge crash ... a huge crash that breaks someone's heart, wounds someone's spirit, smashes someone's soul.
When I come to the 4-way stops in life, God ... when I come to the places where the road I'm traveling intersects the roads of others, Lord ... help me to appreciate the differences. Help me to recognize that we are all at the same place ... help me to marvel at where we came from ... help me to see the beauty in what carried us there ... help me to wonder at where we are going. Help me to appreciate the differences, Father ... to stop, to wait, to proceed with lovingkindness, compassion, gentleness, understanding and love. When I come to the 4-way stops in life, Lord ... help me to see You on every corner.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
And for Today, Love is Enough
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I'm not sure that I've had to tell myself to do that before, to breathe, I mean ... but I sure have said, typed or texted that mantra a whole, whole, whole lot over the last couple of days. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And those closest to me have said, typed or texted it right back to me. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe, Terrie, breathe. I wasn't so sure last night that I was going to wake up breathing this morning ... I wasn't so sure at all. But you know what? Not only did I wake up breathing, I've been breathing all day long. Granted, I've had to chant my mantra more than a few times throughout the day and tell myself not only to breathe, but to breathe deeply enough to hopefully calm my racing and pounding heart. And I can assure you that my old ticker did more than its fair share of both racing and pounding today, friends ... way, way, way more than its fair share.
I contemplated not blogging tonight ... actually, I contemplated telling all of you that I would be taking a break from posting for a while. I must also admit that I've wondered off and on all day how many readers I will lose following last night's post. But when I talked to my friend about it this afternoon, she said, "You must post again tonight." I told her that not posting felt like I was going into hiding, and I told her I didn't think I ever wanted to hide again. And as she messaged me ideas for what I should write, all I could think was how right she was ... I had to post again tonight. I thought about posting something funny or light-hearted, maybe a little poem to play off of the Dr. Seuss quotes I posted all day yesterday on Facebook. A little poem like this ...
I'm not a duck or the trunk of a tree
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a dog or a big giant bee
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a hat or a boat on the sea
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a moose or a tall drink of tea
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm just who I am, nothing more nothing less
I'm Terrie, that's all, though I won't wear a dress.
OK, so I'm no Dr. Seuss, but you've got to admit the ending "dress" line is kind of funny.
But then, I had a conversation with one of my friends at work at the end of day, and I knew what I should write about tonight ... tonight I should tell you that for today, love is enough. I've been overwhelmed by many things over the last 24 hours ... the number of views my blog has gotten, the number of people who have forwarded the link to my post or shared it on Facebook with their friends and families, the number of emails and private messages I've received today (some encouraging, accepting, loving and supportive and some ... well ... suffice it to say some are not) ... yep, I've been completely overwhelmed last night and today, completely overwhelmed.
As my friend and I talked, I realized that today wasn't as hard as I thought it might be. Yes, there were hurtful, hate-filled emails and messages, but there was also unconditional love and acceptance, too. And as we talked, I knew deep in my soul that the people who matter most to me love me still ... the people who matter most to me will always love me. And for today, the love of those people is enough ... for today, their love for me and mine for them is enough. The more I thought about the concept of love being enough, my mind began to race back through some big events in my life over the last few months. Some big events that should be remembered ... some big ways that people showed me just how true that statement can be ... and for today, love is enough.
Remember my meltdown at work when I ended up in a conference room with one of the VPs in my office? That was a day when love was enough. Remember my most difficult conversation with my children? That was a day when love was enough. Remember the hard meeting with the gals at work? That was a day when love was enough. Remember my shopping excursion for clothes for the party? That was a day when love was enough. I remember each one of those days and so many, many more since the day my hiding place started crumbling around me ... and without exception or fail, each one of those difficult, painful, heart-wrenching, soul-piercing, mind-exhausting days were days when love was enough. And for today, friends ... and for today, perhaps more than any other day in my life, for today, love is enough.
And now I am tired, so it's off to bed I must go
But first, this I must say, please know it is so
On the darkest of days and the nights that are rough
Please know in your soul that love is enough.
I contemplated not blogging tonight ... actually, I contemplated telling all of you that I would be taking a break from posting for a while. I must also admit that I've wondered off and on all day how many readers I will lose following last night's post. But when I talked to my friend about it this afternoon, she said, "You must post again tonight." I told her that not posting felt like I was going into hiding, and I told her I didn't think I ever wanted to hide again. And as she messaged me ideas for what I should write, all I could think was how right she was ... I had to post again tonight. I thought about posting something funny or light-hearted, maybe a little poem to play off of the Dr. Seuss quotes I posted all day yesterday on Facebook. A little poem like this ...
I'm not a duck or the trunk of a tree
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a dog or a big giant bee
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a hat or a boat on the sea
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm not a moose or a tall drink of tea
I'm neither of those, I am just me.
I'm just who I am, nothing more nothing less
I'm Terrie, that's all, though I won't wear a dress.
OK, so I'm no Dr. Seuss, but you've got to admit the ending "dress" line is kind of funny.
But then, I had a conversation with one of my friends at work at the end of day, and I knew what I should write about tonight ... tonight I should tell you that for today, love is enough. I've been overwhelmed by many things over the last 24 hours ... the number of views my blog has gotten, the number of people who have forwarded the link to my post or shared it on Facebook with their friends and families, the number of emails and private messages I've received today (some encouraging, accepting, loving and supportive and some ... well ... suffice it to say some are not) ... yep, I've been completely overwhelmed last night and today, completely overwhelmed.
As my friend and I talked, I realized that today wasn't as hard as I thought it might be. Yes, there were hurtful, hate-filled emails and messages, but there was also unconditional love and acceptance, too. And as we talked, I knew deep in my soul that the people who matter most to me love me still ... the people who matter most to me will always love me. And for today, the love of those people is enough ... for today, their love for me and mine for them is enough. The more I thought about the concept of love being enough, my mind began to race back through some big events in my life over the last few months. Some big events that should be remembered ... some big ways that people showed me just how true that statement can be ... and for today, love is enough.
Remember my meltdown at work when I ended up in a conference room with one of the VPs in my office? That was a day when love was enough. Remember my most difficult conversation with my children? That was a day when love was enough. Remember the hard meeting with the gals at work? That was a day when love was enough. Remember my shopping excursion for clothes for the party? That was a day when love was enough. I remember each one of those days and so many, many more since the day my hiding place started crumbling around me ... and without exception or fail, each one of those difficult, painful, heart-wrenching, soul-piercing, mind-exhausting days were days when love was enough. And for today, friends ... and for today, perhaps more than any other day in my life, for today, love is enough.
And now I am tired, so it's off to bed I must go
But first, this I must say, please know it is so
On the darkest of days and the nights that are rough
Please know in your soul that love is enough.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Easier to Die
Sometimes, I think you have
to travel back a bit before you can move forward in life, before you can really
find your own little place in the world. I think maybe it’s kind of like when I
go to a store and I’m trying to get my car to fit into a parking place … I pull
forward, I back up, I turn the wheel, I tap on the brakes, I give the engine a
little gas. Every once in a while, I can just whip right into a space, jump out
of my car and hit the ground running. But more often than not, I have to work
at getting my car between the lines that are painted on the surface of the lot
… more often than not, for every time I inch forward, I also have to back up in
order to make sure my car fits as it should. And I think that’s the way it is
in life sometimes … you have to travel back a bit before you can move forward.
The last year of my life has been a journey for sure, a journey that many of you have traveled with me through the words of this blog. To say that today’s post is a difficult one for me to write is a huge understatement … the words that will follow in this post are life-changing ones for me; once they are posted, my life will not or cannot ever be the same again. But before I get to the hard stuff … the heart-wrenching stuff … I’d like to share something else with you first.
Back at the end of November, I went to an office party … the first one I’ve attended since I started working at my company back in 2002. Yep, that’s 10 years, and yep, I’d never gone to a party before. After I wrote about going shopping with a sweet friend for clothing for said party (which turned out to be a very fun adventure, I might add, much to my surprise!), I got a lot of messages from those of you who read my blog asking why this year … why did I decide to go to the party this year when I never once attended one in the past? So, here’s my answer … in the months leading up to the night of the party, something happened that completely changed my perception of the people I work with and altered my desire to spend time with them in a social setting outside of the office. In the months leading up to the night of the party, the folks in my office showed me their hearts … they showed me their hearts in ways I never imagined possible, and in doing so, they forever changed my own heart. They walked with me through some of the darkest days of my life, and they never once wavered in their commitment to help me begin to see some flickers of light once again. When they saw me in the depths of brokenness, they could have patted me on the back and said, “Hope you get better one day, Terrie.” But instead, they did what they didn’t have to do ... they showed me their hearts. And on November 30, 2012, I walked into my first-ever office holiday party … I walked into that party a nervous wreck on the outside, yes, but down deep … down deep inside where it matters most of all, I walked into that party knowing I was walking in as me … knowing I was walking into family … knowing I was walking into a room filled with love.
I've been writing this blog since 2008. For five years, I've written thousands of words that now reside within the posts this blog contains. At times, the words have been easy to write, and I hope perhaps they've brought a smile to your face as you've read them. At other times, the words have come from a place of pain or emotion so deep that I wept as I typed them. Hopefully, some of those difficult words have spoken to some of you and helped you through a tough time of your own. For all the words I've written, the ones you will read in this post are the most frightening to me because they are the most revealing and most painful words I've ever penned.
Some of you will stop reading after you read tonight's post, and some of you will continue on and even share the blog with your friends and families. Some of you will understand, and some of you will not. Some of you will judge and condemn me, and some of you will extend the grace and love to me that I believe Jesus himself commanded us to demonstrate to one another. Whatever reaction and response may come, however, the words I am about to write must be written ... they must be written in order for me to survive. You see, it would be much easier to die than to write this post. It would be much easier to die than to deal with the reality of the words you will read. It would be much easier to die than to accept the consequences I am certain will ensue. But often, easier isn't better. Often, easier isn't right. Often, easier is just easier.
Those of you who've been reading my posts for any length of time know that a couple of years ago, I began to struggle with depression. What you don't know is how very deep and life-threatening that depression became. So deep, in fact, I decided dying would be easier than living ... that dying would rid me of the sadness, pain, guilt and shame that enveloped me every moment of every single day ... that dying was the only way I would ever find peace. I convinced myself that God would surely understand and forgive me for ending my life. I decided dying would be easier than living, and I even considered taking my two sweet dogs with me. I had a plan, the means to carry out that plan and the date I intended to die. I decided dying would be easier than living. And then God used my precious granddaughter C.J., a couple of dear friends who hadn't run away from me, a young girl who told me she wanted me to grow old, a little boy who gave me a piece of sugar-free chocolate pie and a movie about whales trapped under some ice to stop me. The first weekend in February of 2012, I decided dying would be easier than living ... but God decided He wanted me to live.
The next week, I agreed to try a new cocktail of antidepressants, and I began going to weekly appointments with the stupid head doctor. Shortly after I began seeing her, the stupid head doctor told me diabetes wasn't the only reason I was so depressed. She told me there was something else, something big, something I had tried desperately to bury deep within me for as long as I could remember. She told me if I wasn’t honest with myself, I would die. I've come to understand a lot of things over the last year, not the least of which is that the stupid head doctor isn't so stupid after all. She saw right through me ... she came charging into my soul and laid it bare ... she came charging into my brain and made me admit the reality of who I am ... she came charging into my heart and untangled the chains I had spent a lifetime creating. She caused me to be open, honest, real and transparent. The truth hurt ... it hurt a whole lot. And it still hurts. And I think perhaps it always will.
The truth is … I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be who I believed everyone wanted me to be. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be who I believed the church taught me I had to be. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to do what I believed was the right thing to do. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be anyone other than who I am. I've spent my whole life desperately despising being different, desperately believing there was something wrong with me and desperately wishing I could change. I've spent my whole life desperately hating myself. It would be so much easier to die than to type these words ... the truth is I am gay. I am gay, and I'd give everything to make me not be. As much as I have tried to believe that I could choose to be straight, I can’t. I can’t believe it is a choice because I know how hard and how long I have tried to choose not to be who I am. I can’t believe it is a choice because I know that Saturday in February wasn’t the first time I wanted to end my life. I can’t believe it is a choice because I would give everything not to be who I am. I can’t believe it is a choice because for all my pleading, for all my praying, for all my begging for God to change me, I have always been and still am gay.
The truth is those three small words are the three hardest words in the English language for me to speak out loud. The truth is those three small words have rocked my faith to its very core and caused me to question God’s reason for giving me life. The truth is those three small words will forever define me in the minds of some of you. The truth is those three small words will invoke hatred in some of you and compassion in others. The truth is those three small words do not change the heart that beats within me. The truth is those three small words do not destroy the deep desire I have to help others. The truth is those three small words have not changed my love for my children or theirs for me. The truth is I am still the same person I have always been. The truth is I am Terrie ... I am a daughter ... I am a mother ... I am a grandmother … I am a sister ... I am an aunt … I am a friend ... I am an employee … I am a writer … I am a child of God, and I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I am all of those things … and I am gay.
There are so many questions to which I have no answers, and perhaps I never will this side of eternity. There are so many people I know will be hurt by those three small words, and for that, I am deeply sorry. For all the unanswered questions within my soul, there is one certainty that I know to be true … if I want to continue to live, I must be honest with God, honest with myself and honest with others. Perhaps being honest about who I am means I must be alone for the remainder of my life here on earth. Perhaps being honest about who I am means some people will no longer love me. Perhaps being honest about who I am means so very many things. I don’t know the answers, friends, but I do know that if I want to survive, I must be honest … I must be open … I must be real … I must be transparent.
It would have been much easier to die, friends … it would have been so much easier to die than to write these words. But often, easier isn't better. Often, easier isn't right. Often, easier is just easier.
The last year of my life has been a journey for sure, a journey that many of you have traveled with me through the words of this blog. To say that today’s post is a difficult one for me to write is a huge understatement … the words that will follow in this post are life-changing ones for me; once they are posted, my life will not or cannot ever be the same again. But before I get to the hard stuff … the heart-wrenching stuff … I’d like to share something else with you first.
Back at the end of November, I went to an office party … the first one I’ve attended since I started working at my company back in 2002. Yep, that’s 10 years, and yep, I’d never gone to a party before. After I wrote about going shopping with a sweet friend for clothing for said party (which turned out to be a very fun adventure, I might add, much to my surprise!), I got a lot of messages from those of you who read my blog asking why this year … why did I decide to go to the party this year when I never once attended one in the past? So, here’s my answer … in the months leading up to the night of the party, something happened that completely changed my perception of the people I work with and altered my desire to spend time with them in a social setting outside of the office. In the months leading up to the night of the party, the folks in my office showed me their hearts … they showed me their hearts in ways I never imagined possible, and in doing so, they forever changed my own heart. They walked with me through some of the darkest days of my life, and they never once wavered in their commitment to help me begin to see some flickers of light once again. When they saw me in the depths of brokenness, they could have patted me on the back and said, “Hope you get better one day, Terrie.” But instead, they did what they didn’t have to do ... they showed me their hearts. And on November 30, 2012, I walked into my first-ever office holiday party … I walked into that party a nervous wreck on the outside, yes, but down deep … down deep inside where it matters most of all, I walked into that party knowing I was walking in as me … knowing I was walking into family … knowing I was walking into a room filled with love.
I've been writing this blog since 2008. For five years, I've written thousands of words that now reside within the posts this blog contains. At times, the words have been easy to write, and I hope perhaps they've brought a smile to your face as you've read them. At other times, the words have come from a place of pain or emotion so deep that I wept as I typed them. Hopefully, some of those difficult words have spoken to some of you and helped you through a tough time of your own. For all the words I've written, the ones you will read in this post are the most frightening to me because they are the most revealing and most painful words I've ever penned.
Some of you will stop reading after you read tonight's post, and some of you will continue on and even share the blog with your friends and families. Some of you will understand, and some of you will not. Some of you will judge and condemn me, and some of you will extend the grace and love to me that I believe Jesus himself commanded us to demonstrate to one another. Whatever reaction and response may come, however, the words I am about to write must be written ... they must be written in order for me to survive. You see, it would be much easier to die than to write this post. It would be much easier to die than to deal with the reality of the words you will read. It would be much easier to die than to accept the consequences I am certain will ensue. But often, easier isn't better. Often, easier isn't right. Often, easier is just easier.
Those of you who've been reading my posts for any length of time know that a couple of years ago, I began to struggle with depression. What you don't know is how very deep and life-threatening that depression became. So deep, in fact, I decided dying would be easier than living ... that dying would rid me of the sadness, pain, guilt and shame that enveloped me every moment of every single day ... that dying was the only way I would ever find peace. I convinced myself that God would surely understand and forgive me for ending my life. I decided dying would be easier than living, and I even considered taking my two sweet dogs with me. I had a plan, the means to carry out that plan and the date I intended to die. I decided dying would be easier than living. And then God used my precious granddaughter C.J., a couple of dear friends who hadn't run away from me, a young girl who told me she wanted me to grow old, a little boy who gave me a piece of sugar-free chocolate pie and a movie about whales trapped under some ice to stop me. The first weekend in February of 2012, I decided dying would be easier than living ... but God decided He wanted me to live.
The next week, I agreed to try a new cocktail of antidepressants, and I began going to weekly appointments with the stupid head doctor. Shortly after I began seeing her, the stupid head doctor told me diabetes wasn't the only reason I was so depressed. She told me there was something else, something big, something I had tried desperately to bury deep within me for as long as I could remember. She told me if I wasn’t honest with myself, I would die. I've come to understand a lot of things over the last year, not the least of which is that the stupid head doctor isn't so stupid after all. She saw right through me ... she came charging into my soul and laid it bare ... she came charging into my brain and made me admit the reality of who I am ... she came charging into my heart and untangled the chains I had spent a lifetime creating. She caused me to be open, honest, real and transparent. The truth hurt ... it hurt a whole lot. And it still hurts. And I think perhaps it always will.
The truth is … I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be who I believed everyone wanted me to be. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be who I believed the church taught me I had to be. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to do what I believed was the right thing to do. I've spent my whole life desperately trying to be anyone other than who I am. I've spent my whole life desperately despising being different, desperately believing there was something wrong with me and desperately wishing I could change. I've spent my whole life desperately hating myself. It would be so much easier to die than to type these words ... the truth is I am gay. I am gay, and I'd give everything to make me not be. As much as I have tried to believe that I could choose to be straight, I can’t. I can’t believe it is a choice because I know how hard and how long I have tried to choose not to be who I am. I can’t believe it is a choice because I know that Saturday in February wasn’t the first time I wanted to end my life. I can’t believe it is a choice because I would give everything not to be who I am. I can’t believe it is a choice because for all my pleading, for all my praying, for all my begging for God to change me, I have always been and still am gay.
The truth is those three small words are the three hardest words in the English language for me to speak out loud. The truth is those three small words have rocked my faith to its very core and caused me to question God’s reason for giving me life. The truth is those three small words will forever define me in the minds of some of you. The truth is those three small words will invoke hatred in some of you and compassion in others. The truth is those three small words do not change the heart that beats within me. The truth is those three small words do not destroy the deep desire I have to help others. The truth is those three small words have not changed my love for my children or theirs for me. The truth is I am still the same person I have always been. The truth is I am Terrie ... I am a daughter ... I am a mother ... I am a grandmother … I am a sister ... I am an aunt … I am a friend ... I am an employee … I am a writer … I am a child of God, and I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I am all of those things … and I am gay.
There are so many questions to which I have no answers, and perhaps I never will this side of eternity. There are so many people I know will be hurt by those three small words, and for that, I am deeply sorry. For all the unanswered questions within my soul, there is one certainty that I know to be true … if I want to continue to live, I must be honest with God, honest with myself and honest with others. Perhaps being honest about who I am means I must be alone for the remainder of my life here on earth. Perhaps being honest about who I am means some people will no longer love me. Perhaps being honest about who I am means so very many things. I don’t know the answers, friends, but I do know that if I want to survive, I must be honest … I must be open … I must be real … I must be transparent.
It would have been much easier to die, friends … it would have been so much easier to die than to write these words. But often, easier isn't better. Often, easier isn't right. Often, easier is just easier.
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