Did Your Brain Surgery Make You Gay? Part 2

In case you missed part one, you can find it here:

https://thequietinme40.blogspot.com/2018/04/did-your-brain-surgery-make-you-gay-and.html

So at the moment, I am sitting in my shop, accomplishing nothing, with a total creative block going on.  That usually means I have something eating up too much of my thought process and energy.  The last two weeks have been very active as far as personal growth, both mental and physical.  There has been a lot of progress on the relationship front as well.  We are finally moving in a clear direction, and it has been a great process overall.  With all that said, I am pretty sure it is some things from my past that have been weighing heavy on me.  So that's what Part 2 is going to touch on.  More questions I was asked when I came out.  Except these are the heavy ones.

Before I get started, let me just say this.  While identifying facts and information has been left intentionally vague, there will be people that read this, especially those keeping tabs on me from my past, that will know the situations I am referring to.  It is not my intent to hurt, embarrass, or defame anyone's character.  While these people may have hurt me, and spewed vile hateful things from behind a keyboard, I will still take the high road.  You know, like all Christians should.

Very soon after it became public that I was gay, I started receiving messages on facebook.  These messages were sent before I unfriended almost everyone associated with my church history.  My "Christian" friends.  (As a matter of fact, these messages are what made me decide to cut ties with most everyone from my past).

This was one of the messages I received.  (I am going to paraphrase.)  Hey James.  (That is important because no one calls me James.  It has always been Jim.)  I received some rather disturbing news.  Is the reason your marriage is failing because you are a faggot?  (Yes, this "good Christian woman" actually used the word faggot.)  She was not a member of the church I was being ousted from.  This is a woman who had multiple kids in my youth and children's programs.  This is a woman whose children were at my house.  I baptized one of them.  I poured into not just these kids, but the entire family.  And they had also done the same for us.  She questioned my intentions in working with kids and teens.  She insinuated that she would grill her kids to find out if anything inappropriate had ever happened, and I had better hope they say no.  She then went on to tell me that I was a disgusting liar, and that I had deceived people for years, and God would deal with me and "my kind".  I was devastated.  My response to her was short and simple.  I stated that I would not judge her and her family for their many, many indiscretions and many issues I helped them through.  That was God's place.  I then wished her well, and asked her to never contact me again.  I wish I could say that message was one of few.  But it wasn't.  It was one of many.  No one bothered to contact me personally, or by phone or text.  This was all done behind a keyboard.  I would later come to find out that there were also church leaders, yes leaders, confronting my ex-wife about the spiritual well being of our kids since their father was no longer fit to lead them.  One woman in particular actually blamed my ex wife, and said she let the spirit of Jezebel into our home.  (I can't make this shit up!)  Here are the facts, and this will answer another group of questions I was asked:  Did your divorce/ex-wife/her affair make me gay?  The simple answer is no.

My ex-wife endured years of suffering towards the end of our marriage.  I was sick all the time.  I was in pain and miserable all the time.  She would find me passed out after a seizure many times.  Once I fell in the bathroom and smacked my head on the sink.  She came home to find me wedged behind the bathroom door, on the floor, bleeding.  She had found me in the driveway, in my truck, with it running, and I was out of it.  I wasn't much help with the kids because I still had to try to hold down a full time job.  I was exhausted and in pain all the time.  Years of going to family events alone with the kids, simply because I couldn't get out of bed.  We were horribly mean to each other, and hadn't even slept in the same bed for years.  She kept the household at least functioning during this time.  I think the brain surgery and ensuing lack of security was too much for our marriage to recover from.  We tried counseling, and she very plainly stated that she didn't think she could handle being married to a sick person.  The lack of love and affection drove her to an affair.  I am not going to air all the dirty laundry, and I am in no way absolving her responsibility in this.  It is what it is.  Long story short, our marriage was over long before we made it official, and long before I came out.  I loved my wife, and she loved me.  Until this point, we were committed to staying together, and making our marriage work.  We were going to try to work through the affair, until a meeting with our church leaders, where I stated that she would leave her job, cut off all contact with her lover, and get rid of her cell phone, or I would push for divorce.  She was unwilling to do that.  The church sided with her.  Even though the bible very clearly lays out that adultery is grounds for divorce, I was wrong for seeking it.  My oldest son and I were shut out.  The worst part is, she stopped attending church shortly after.  And this church set about wiping away any trace of the work I had done there.  All of it.  Like I never existed.  Like the work that God used me to do, was some how tainted.  The messages eventually stopped.  We have settled into a new normal for our family.  My ex-wife and my partner get along very well.  If it wasn't for our difference in parenting and the conflict that causes, we would be best friends.  She comes over frequently for dinner, with the kids and Mark and I.  It works.  And we are  in some ways, more of a functioning family now, than we ever were.  So, did my ex wife or my divorce make me gay?  No.  as a matter of fact, I was open with my ex-wife very early in our relationship and marriage that I at a minimum questioned my sexuality.  And when she finally found out that I was gay, well after we had split, she hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and said now you don't have to hide anymore.  Be you.  Am I still a Christian since coming out?  Yes in the sense that I believe in a living God, and His plan for salvation.  What I do not believe in anymore, is the church.  I have not stepped foot in a church since coming out.  In some ways it is still to painful and overwhelming to think about.  But yes, I still read my bible.  Yes, even my Greek bible.  I still pray.  I still believe.  Just not in an institution that hurts more than it heals, that judges and condemns more than it loves and accepts, and that is not in any way what Jesus intended the church to be.  I loved on, supported, encouraged, and taught kids because that is what I was called to do.  Plain and simple.  For the "church" to slander, gossip, insinuate, and then shun me, God will deal with them as he sees fit.  Not my job.

Another question I have been asked a few times is Did your interests/mannerisms/values change?  This isn't a cut and dry yes or no.  Yes, in some ways all that has changed.  I am much more affectionate.  Not just with my partner, but my family and friends as well.  I think it is important for my kids to see that I am not some hard ass all the time.  As far as my interests? No.  Nothing has changed.  I still like, am interested in, and pursue all of the same things I did before I came out.  If anything, I have the energy and the freedom to explore my interests and hobbies more now.  I still like doing yard work.  I still like fishing and camping, although I don't get to do it as much as I'd like.  Hell, even my life hasn't changed that much.  I still do laundry and clean house.  I would still rather hang with my kids and my family and friends, than go out to clubs and bars.  I still watch the same tv shows.  What has changed is I value honesty, love, acceptance, and individuality, where as before, not so much.  I am still the same me.  Just more truthful about it.  I am much more open about sexuality, masculinity, understanding feminism, and what love can be and look like in all its various forms.  And I still think the same things.  Like when I see a woman who is sexy, confident, and killing it.  I verbalize that now.  And yes, every gay guy can appreciate a nice set of boobs!

I will end with this question.  Now that you are being true to you, who are you?

I am a man.  I love hard, and I fight harder.  I love masculinity in men, and femininity in woman.  But I accept and respect everything in between.  I am a father, not just in title.  I take the responsibility of raising a family just as serious as ever.  I just temper it with more love, acceptance, and fun than I used too.  I am most certainly a family man.  I love being a father, a son, a brother, and uncle.  I love that my family has accepted me and loved me enough to put up with my bullshit in the past, because they saw who I am now, when I couldn't see it myself.  I am a goofball.  I love to laugh, and have found my smile again.  I am wise beyond my years.  (Just not in my own life.  lol)  I give people way more chances than they deserve, and my heart is a little battered and bruised because of it.  But it still loves just fine.  I see the value and potential in people, even when they don't see it themselves.  I have a temper.  I'm working through it.  I am a pot head.  (All kidding aside, this is the reason for the improvement in my mental as well as physical health.  Helps with the pain, helps with constant nausea, and I don't feel like I am constantly on the edge of losing my shit.  If you'd like to judge me for that, feel free.  Just remember that alcohol kills thousands a year, and it is legal and socially accepted.  Marijuana has the potential to heal and restore.  The only reason it is illegal in some ways still is because of money.)  I love music.  I am a hopeless romantic.  I am a lover and a partner, and God willing, someday a husband again.  I am crazy, loving, passionate, sexual, creative, a procrastinator, loyal, funny, sarcastic, and kind.  I am more in touch with compassion and empathy now than I ever was.  Deep down I am still the same.  Just more free to be me.

And no.  My brain surgery didn't make me gay.

We Interupt this Regularly Scheduled Program For This Important Message About Mental Health Month

I know the next post was to be Part 2 of this post:

http://thequietinme40.blogspot.com/2018/04/did-your-brain-surgery-make-you-gay-and.html

However, being mental health awareness month, and some recent issues I have been struggling with, I figured now was a good time to write about this.  Many of you know my history with mental illness.  It's like a pink elephant in the room.  We all know it is there, but we don't talk about it much.  I don't talk about it much outside of my small inner circle.  (I mean I joke about it, but that is a coping mechanism.)  There is still a stigma attached to mental health.  There are a lot of myths and preconceived ideas still out there about mental illness.  For something that is so common, so overly diagnosed, and so destructive to individuals as well as families, I guess I kind of feel like those who can talk about it and have a dialogue about it, should.  So here goes.

My mental problems started to develop about two years after my brain surgery.  I had times of depression before, I am sure of it, but I never really understood mental illness.  My thought process prior to all this was that if people were depressed, or anxious, that it isn't a real mental illness.  Make some changes and get on with it.  In hind sight, I am sure I handled it very poorly, especially with family members and friends who were suffering at the time.

According to Psychiatric Times, 1 in 8 people will develop psychiatric conditions after brain surgery.  Combined with traumatic experiences going on in my life, I was struggling.  My primary doctor at the time put me on Wellbutrin and Lexapro.  I am in the small percentage of people who respond poorly to this combination of medicine, and was in the hospital within 3 weeks of beginning that medicine with my first overdose.  My intent was to kill myself.  That began a year long cycle of overdoses, hospitalizations, losing my kids and watching my life fall apart.  I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar type 2, with suicidal ideations, and generalized anxiety disorder.  It took 2 years to get a diagnosis.  2 years before someone in my medical team actually told me that mental illness is pretty common after brain surgery.  By the way, for some of you still following my life hoping to watch my demise, no, mental illness did not make me gay, and no, I am not mentally ill because I am gay.  My sexuality is what it is, and If I were being honest, I probably new I was gay when I was a teen.  According to the CDC, homosexuals are in fact at a higher risk for experiencing mental illness.  This isn't because of being homosexual, but the stigma and challenges of being gay in a world that has been built on heterosexual norms.  In 1973 homosexuality was declassified as mental illness in the UK.  In America, this didn't happen until 1986.  Also worth pointing out, specifically because of my past in the church and as a church leader, the bible does mention homosexuality.  6 times to be exact.  Never once did Jesus mention it.  The references to homosexuality in the bible aren't as cut and dry as the church likes to say it is.  Here is a good read, easy to follow, about this particular issue.

www.upworthy.com/there-are-6-scriptures-about-homosexuality-in-the-bible-heres-what-they-really-say

So with a newly revealed diagnoses, a couple of hospitalizations later, I decided it was time to take my life back, and gain some control over my mental illness.  I had a fantastic counselor who helped me through some of the worst times as far as symptoms go.  My medical team finally found treatments that helped me manage the worst of the pain, and as of typing this post, I have been almost 2 years without a hospitalization.  It is hard work keeping on top of your mental health.  Sometimes putting in the work is painful.  Sometimes it is as simple as trying new coping mechanisms.  So where am I at today?

I am struggling.  Where I would have manic episodes every couple months, they now are occurring every couple weeks.  (Seriously, look through my facebook feed.  Pretty easy to see when I am manic.)  This is common with bipolar, and usually just means it is time to tweak my meds.  Mark and I have become pretty adept at recognizing signs that precede a manic episode, but where we used to have days before to recognize it, sometimes now we have hours.  I have an amazing support system in place too.  Mark loves me through it.  He is the real unsung hero in this.  Never in my life have I had someone who throws himself into helping me through this, being their for me, and helping me get my shit together after the bottom falls out.  I know it is painful for him to watch and to go through.  There are times that I can see the hurt in his eyes.  He does a great job at understanding that these episodes aren't really me, but it still is hard.  Talk about love in action!  I keep my darkest struggles away from the kids, and Mark really helps me at keeping thing normal for them.  But they are smart, sensitive, and intuitive, so they know.  And they love me through it as well.  And then there is my best friend Wendie.  She lets me get only so far gone before she calls me out on it.  (Sometimes it takes some threats too.  She scares me.)  She really has become family to me and to Mark.  I have other friends who always seem to magically reach out to me, or even show up at my house when I am struggling.  They are amazing.  My family is amazing.  They love me so much, and want to see me happy, and whole, and succeeding.  I have everything I need to do well.  Yet, these episodes still occur.   No matter how much therapy and medication I throw at it, they will happen for the rest of my life.  I grapple with that almost daily.  But I am accepting it.

I want to try to describe what it feels like and how my manic episodes play out.  I will share some of the signs and things that have not only helped me, but Mark as well.  Mental illness is just a taxing on our loved ones.

For me, it usually starts with a day or two of being very productive.  In that time, my eating habits become almost non-existent, and there are times Mark will literally nag me until he sees me eat.  Sleep usually evades me for a couple days.  There aren't really any triggers, although when I have bouts of severe headaches, that escalates things quicker.  Usually the day of or the day before the bottom drops out, my attitude changes.  My thought processes and decision making becomes risky and destructive.  Last week, it got to the point where I was ready to run.  In my craziness, I truly thought I was going to be able to pack a bag, head south, and disappear.  Mark actually had to leave work early and come home to stop me.  When I am struggling really bad, I usually shave my head, and groom my beard very differently that I usually wear it.  I change my clothes two or three times a day.  Same with my hats.  The only thing I can attribute this to is just feeling off, knowing I am off, and trying to get comfortable, or at least not crawling in my skin.  I struggle with higher anxiety and paranoia for a couple days before my mood cycles.  I become mean.  I say things that are just awful.  This is the destructive part.  I withdraw from my family and friends, and get quiet on social media.  Usually just sharing memes or posts that I relate to.  Making plans during this time is impossible.  Going out terrifies me.  I become paranoid, and think everyone and everything is out to hurt me, betray me, use me.  Then it happens.  The bottom just drops out.  For a day or two, I cry for hours.  I rarely accomplish anything after that for a couple days.  Getting out of bed and getting dressed is even overwhelming.  For me anyways, the crash after a manic episode is way worse than the episode itself.  It literally feels like I am in this dark, unfamiliar place.  I am usually very quiet and withdrawn, and it starts to subside after a couple days.

During the days before a mood flip, when I am at my worst, there are some things that help.  First, Mark will usually respond with "you don't mean that", or "I'm not gonna engage you right now".  That usually gets me angry, but it stops the rage in its tracks, and I usually back down.  Yes, when I am in my crazy, I am aware of it.  It's like I hear my normal self, telling my crazy self to calm down.  Don't go there.  Why would you do something like that?  Myself is still in there, but I am helpless to take control back.  Mark also helps me by making sure we don't have any plans coming up, and he tries to keep anything stressful or any triggers at bay.  And then he loves me.  For me, the loneliness and the paranoia are the worst.  I feel so isolated.  Mark has gotten really good at finding me in the dark, bringing in some light, and leading me out.  If I am laying in bed because I couldn't do anything else, he lays with me.  Just so I know I am not alone.  He makes sure to give me hugs, and cuddles, and sometimes he just rubs my head.  All so I know I am not alone, he is still with me, and he isn't going anywhere.  When the paranoia takes over, he comes at me with facts and reason.  When it gets really bad and I am not listening to him, he brings in reinforcements.  He doesn't force me to do anything, or be productive.  When all is said and done, and all I can do is apologize and tell him how he deserves so much more than me, he reassures me that we have got this, there is nothing to apologize for, its out of my control.  He makes sure I understand that he isn't going anywhere, and he has worked on eliminating triggers.  He gives me hope.  He helps me feel like I can beat this.  And after this past week, he has encouraged me and supported me in getting back into critical treatment,  Which I start Wednesday.

Mental illness is most definitely the hardest battle I have ever faced in my life.  But with the right support, flexible treatments, and some love and understanding from my family and friends, I am winning.  I am succeeding at things I had written off a long time ago.  I am loved, and have learned how to be better at loving.  Mental illness is a part of me, but it doesn't define me.  So this month especially, reach out to those you know struggling with mental illness.  You don't have to give them advice.  You don't have to tell them what worked for aunt Mary.  Just let them know you love them, and that they matter.

Light and love to all you!