Growing Up

I think it’s finally happening. I’m growing up.

I always equated growing up with being mature. When one is an adult, one is mature. This carries with it a certain awareness and responsibility that children don’t have. Mature adults are reliable; they do what they say they will, follow through, and meet deadlines. They are respectful of people and carefully choose their words and actions. They are able to put the mundane before the pleasurable and work toward long term goals. They are aware of what is happening in the world. They can talk politics and ease gracefully through social situations, whether it be a simple night out or an office Christmas party. Adults always know what to say, and when not, can say the right thing to get them off the hook. Adulthood means doing adult things, like balancing a check book, looking after a house and home, investing, looking out for the future, working, earning a living, and somehow fitting the “good things in life” within that framework.

But that’s not what growing up means at all. A young child can be mature, but not grown up. Growing up means growing into oneself, becoming your own person.

I often review my past experiences and try to make sense of them. OK, so these days the habit is incessant and “often” is not the right word - I review my past throughout the entire day while driving, working, and talking with people. Anytime, anywhere. The whole ordeal with Cody has forced me to scrutinize my life and try to understand my inner workings on a level much deeper than simply trying to understand things in the context of him. I thought I was a fairly sane, put together person, but dealing with the emotional turmoil associated with him has unveiled issues I have that I didn’t know existed. Yes, I’m all screwed up and am just realizing it! I suppose this is what I mean when I say I’m growing up. I’m just starting to understand what these issues are.

I realize that I’ve adopted several scripts as a child that are no longer useful, and if anything, detrimental to my growth as an individual. Many of these have to do with my relationship with my parents and with siblings, but these scripts also play out into any relationship of intimacy I have with others, and, if I had a physical relationship at this point, would play into physical intimacy, as well. Actually, come to think of it, maybe that’s why I’m not in such a relationship. Gasp. The very absence of physical intimacy in my life is most likely a manifestation of the intimacy issues I may have! Hmm.

Well, at any rate, as a child I was always a people pleaser - never go against the flow, always try to be a peacemaker. Early on I learned that to be a peacemaker meant to be the type of person that invited the Spirit because it is the Spirit that offers true peace. I strove to have the Spirit with me, and my sense of spirituality and religiosity always met with the glowing approval of my parents and my family. I was regarded in my family as the “perfect” son. I never did anything bad. My one act of rebellion was resisting Scouts. I eventually consented against my will and earned the rank of Eagle, right before the 18th year cutoff. I graduated with a 4.3 GPA. I never had a curfew in high school - or ever - because I never had the need for it. I was trusted. I was the example.

My parents, especially my Dad, would hold me up to my younger brothers as a yardstick. Examples can have a positive influence, but something in the way my dad would directly tell my brothers to be like me I find troubling. He would wield me as a tool of social pressure, and I can only imagine what scripts my brothers have developed because of that. They shouldn’t need to be me (the me that was strictly obedient to my parents wishes) in order to gain my parents approval. They need to be themselves as individuals, and that should be good enough. No, that’s even better and ideal.

Now that I am out to my parents, my dad doesn’t use me as the example, but he continues to use the same manipulative technique. I know my dad has the best intentions. But the message is, “Behave how I want you to, and you will have my approval.”

The terrible teens is the stage of rebellion where kids are able to grow into themselves. I never really had that because I was so focused on being the person that was accepted. My parents always felt like they never had to worry about me. I was mature at an early age. I wanted their approval so badly, and this was only enforced by societal and ecclesiastical teachings. I grew up believing I was innately evil because of the homosexual feelings I had. I had to live as perfectly as I could so that I could be changed into what I was suppose to be and what was accepted - to be heterosexual. I never wanted to break their trust in me or do anything to jeopardize their approval, so I had to live up to their expectations of me.

But to never ruffle anyone’s feathers, one has to be a chameleon and subvert oneself in favor of someone else. And isn’t this ok? Isn’t this self sacrifice, and isn’t this desirable in a spiritual context?

This line of thinking filters through everyday action. For example, at work, I’m often then one who is on time (well, maybe not this week, but usually) and will stay late if necessary. I’m the one who has a difficult time asking for time off, even though I have vacation days, because somehow that equates with breaking the flow of things. This is a false sense of responsibility, and I fold it neatly into a sense of integrity.

I feel I always had a strong sense of integrity, which one might think ironic when reviewing my life. Why then did it take me so long to come out if I was so scrupulous and true to myself? The answer is easy. I wasn’t being true to myself, I was being true to the expectations placed on me. And it was actually my desire to shed facade and be truly honest that helped me break free from the scripts that held me bound to the belief that I was subhuman because of my sexuality.

As I have tried to break free from these scripts, my parents have resisted. They are trying to understand things, but it is difficult for them. This past Christmas, my mom said some hurtful things to me in front of my siblings. Her jabs had the desired effect, I’m sure. They hurt. She was probably expressing her hurt by trying to make me feel it.

After reflection, I find one of her comments fascinating. In preparation to leave and fly back home, I went to the local library and checked out some audio books to rip and put on my iPod. Although the library had a large selection, I wasn’t interested in most of the books. I checked out five and ended up only ripping a few of them. One of the books was on myths and how myths shape culture. Another was on the political right. And still another was on one man’s search for spiritual renewal and meaning in life.

We were sitting at the table preparing to play a game when my mom asked me what I had checked out. I read her the titles, and at the mention of these three books listed above, she took personal affront. She saw their subject matter as blatant rebellion against all that I had been taught. I don’t remember her exact words (something about me throwing out God), but she did say this, which I find to be the fascinating part, “You’re just going through your adolescent phase.”

Hah! My terrible teens? At the ripe age of 32? Maybe she’s right, if the terrible teens means a time of discovery. But she’s not allowing me to grow up. She’s not acknowledging me as an individual.

The more I understand who I am, the more I am comfortable in my own skin. The past few Sundays, I have left church feeling happy. Happy to be gay. I’m really grateful for my homosexuality. I’m happy to be me. That's what it means to be grown up. Happy to be yourself.