My Natural Self - Letting Go of Jesus

Sometimes, being an exMormon (aka Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) means I'll wake up with a scripture in my head. It’s often random, unexplained, and even annoying to remember. As a teen, I was encouraged to memorize, master, and internalize scriptures from the four major books that Mormonism considers cannon scripture (Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price). The church was the primary place I received the most consistent positive attention and encouragement. It was my safe space. Naturally then, when I was challenged to memorize and make those scriptures part of my identity, I did!

Even 15 years after leaving the LDS faith, it’s still like second nature to call up a hymn, a scripture, or even a quote from one of the Prophets. Today, I need to release the frustration of having my past pompous pious persona pester me with it’s persistent provocations. This mornings scripture which vexes me was from the Book of Mormon (my favorite of the cannon), Mosiah 3:19:

“For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”

This morning, the beginning part of that scripture was stuck in my brain. In church, we often focused on how our “natural” selves want to sin and how this “biologically driven self”, similar to Freud's “Id” would get us all into trouble with God. Today, as I brushed my teeth, I thought to myself, how queer and honestly unhealthy is this particular thought to me now as a Buddhist and as a Therapist. As a student of psychology and the human condition, I’m constantly striving to be MORE honest and open with my “natural” or “real” self.

I used to hate my every biological craving, I even swore off dessert for a time because I was afraid I had become addicted to sugar and was allowing sugar to become my God. Any time I noticed a random thought which was labeled “sinful” by the church, I demonized and hated myself for allowing such a thought to enter my mind. During those moments, I’d often remember the admonition of Jesus that even experiencing the emotion of lust for a woman was the same as breaking the law of chastity. Looking back, I recognize that I had an intense fear of sin.

Those scriptures taught me that in my most natural state, without trying, I was somehow an enemy to the Godly parent from whom I desperately desired approval. Therefore, anything that I was naturally driven to do, had to be shunned. God was not the problem, because he was the perfect parent. Logically then, the problem was me. The scripture continued to prescribe an answer for the fabricated problem, namely, becoming fully submissive to the church. Reflecting on this, I was reminded of a Mormon ceremony I often participated in at the temple called The Endowment, where we promised to give all of our time and money to the church.

It took me a long time to recognize and accept that many Mormons like me are coerced and gaslighted by Mormon doctrine. In working with my own therapist I’m slowly beginning to recognize that I often dissociated with myself. Not only was this harmful, but it robbed me from knowing myself in countless ways. I wasn’t encouraged to discover my “authentic self”. Instead, I was encouraged to discover my “true self”, which just so happened to be a cookie cutter idea of manhood that fit into the ideals of Mormonism. For instance, when I discovered that I was falling in love with my best friend in high-school, every church leader (apostles and scripture) told me this wasn’t my true self because homosexuality is contrary to doctrine.

As a Buddhist and neophyte neuroscientist, I consider the “self” to be mostly an illusion. We often think we are, whatever our environment encourages us to believe we are. I’ve learned that much of our lives is preprogrammed in our genes, and that much of how that programming is executed depends on our environment. So what happens to the “self” when it is forced to embrace two opposing ideologies? How do I function now as an exMormon whose primary neural programming told me to submit to an imaginary authority and hate myself for my inability to fit inside some heteronormative bubble of ignorance?

Honestly, sometimes, I don’t know. But today, I’m choosing to frown and acknowledge the sadness that this automatic self-hated instilled in me. Then, I’ll take a deep sigh to remind myself that I’ve seen how untrue and harmful that doctrine has proven itself to be. From there, I’ll smile, knowing that I’ve never been more honest, genuine, happy, and authentic than when I let go of my childhood training and to be the natural man I was born to be.

I've Become The Cliche

When I was newly out, I quickly discovered that many of my gay Mormon brethren were either getting degrees in Psychology (often driven by the desire to understand why we ended up gay and the other boys didn't) or moving to more liberal states like California. I promised myself that I wouldn't become a cliche. I knew what it was like to try and find happiness living the kind of life everyone expected me to live. I didn't want to fall into another pyramid scheme which promised happiness, so long as I do what everyone else did. I wanted to forge my own path.

So here I am, a gay former Mormon, living in the very liberal state of Washington, and with one year left in grad school to become a therapist. I've become the thing I tried not to become. I don't regret any of my explorations into other paths. I've followed my passions and went wherever my sails could take me. I've made good money (when you're used to lower class living anything close to middle class seems like luxury living). I've had more freedom to experiment with life than most people on our planet probably ever get the chance to try.

To be honest, I think I was secretly waiting for some Mormon miracle to happen. I'd realize that my mom was right and I wasn't gay after all. I could return to the church, get married, have kids, and be just like everyone else living a blissful life of mediocrity. Oddly enough, in many ways, I think the church did call me back.

To me, being a Mormon meant learning how to serve others. On my mission, I experienced how it felt to be in the role of a healer. It was my job to love everyone and serve them in any way I could, and I loved it. That spirit of service never left me, and here I am. I'm older, happier, more confident, married to the love of my life, and that Mormon spirit of service is here with me. My past pushed me to "fulfill my calling" and become the healer I always dreamed I might become.

With my didactic year behind me and my first year of clinicals just weeks away, I find myself in a pensive mood. I started with high hopes and in many ways felt invincible. I believed I had finally "gotten over" my trauma and was ready to dive in head first. I studied hard. I'd memorized veins, psychological terms, prominent researchers last names, and most of all I knew terms of the trade. I felt ready to do therapy from day one. If Ben Fineman and his ability to research is to be believed, and I think it should be, I probably could have been a fine therapist from day one. Yet, as the months drove by and our readings and conversations reactivated my triggers, I slowly sunk back into the depression that had taken me years to overcome.

I'd been to therapy before, but I never could afford to go more than a handful of sessions. When I did go to therapy, it was usually for a quick fix. I had no experience going to weekly therapy sessions and actually doing the work. The money was always a barrier. I didn't know about sliding scales. I didn't know how hard the work can be. I didn't know how slowly the change would come. I didn't know how complete and unfettered I would feel when it was all done. My program director suggested it was important to go to therapy as a new LMFT student. So, I ear marked the cost as part of my education and I'm very glad I did.

The insights and support from my therapist has truly been life changing. I was a little frustrated at first because I thought 3 sessions should have been enough, but things kept coming up. I kept going in circles around different topics that had recently upset me. But by the 10th session, I'd come full circle, and I realize now how important that work was. With COVID and then the murder of George Floyd adding to the stress I ended up making some sessions weekly. I am so amazed by the work that can get done with weekly sessions.

I avoided the cliches I saw because I didn't want to be hurt again by following a path that was supposed to bring me joy, only to be abandoned and betrayed again. I learned that lesson well when I left the church. Yet, I'm happier and more confident than I ever have been. It's true that my husband and I have been together for nearly 10 years. It's true that we're mostly monogamous. And yes, I escaped Utah. I don't care anymore if that makes me a cliche. I'm happy and at the end of the day, I don't care what path or label gets put on my life, because it's mine to live.

Full Circle

I haven't written in 6 years. I haven't felt the need to make time for it. Yet now, as I find myself at the beginning of another crossroads, I see the wisdom in writing down my thoughts and feelings.

Our universe has many cycles: The seasons repeat. The heart circulates. Life is followed by death, and from death comes new life.

On April 1, 2005, I made a choice to accept myself for who I am despite what my community thought of that choice. I've had a lot of time to learn and grow since then. My knowledge of neurology and psychology have increased. I've often looked back at that moment with pride and gratitude in recognition of the courage it took to finally stand my ground. Yet, in many ways, it was merely an act of self-preservation. Is it still courageous to reach out and make a change, but only after you realized that you have no other option left? I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Pre-BYU Life

Samuel Nieves
Age: 21
Religion: Mormon
Strengths: Science and Math
Weaknesses: English and Social Sciences
Fears: Never overcoming his homosexuality
Desired Occupation: Oncology

I remember the day I decided to study oncology. It was the winter of 2003 and I was mopping the floor at my Aunt's restaurant near the end of my shift. My first semester at BYU was about to begin and I knew that I needed to start thinking about a major and career.

I kept repeating to myself some advice from my mother. I needed to focus on my strengths and my passions, and then find a way to turn those into a profession. I knew that math and science had always seemed easy to me, but that meant some kind of job that wouldn't often associate with people. I considered teaching seminary, but couldn't see how math or science would ever be involved. These conflicting passions were getting me nowhere and I thought myself in circles. I remember asking myself, "When you die what kind of life will you want to have lived?"

It was one of those moments when started speaking honestly with myself. I'd recently finished a mission for the Mormon church and I knew that I wanted to keep that feeling of service and purpose alive as long as possible. The sense of being on a mission to help other people had felt exhilarating. I'd become addicted to the emotional rush, to the deeply felt sense of purpose and service. I admitted that a desk job would never really make me happy. I'd tasted the sweet fruit of service and I knew that I'd never be satisfied doing anything else. Every other job in comparison seemed meaningless and ephemeral. I knew that if I ended my life without being able to say that I had made a lasting change to the human race, that I'd feel a sense of loss and regret. I need a to be a footnote for humanity before I die.

This was how the idea of oncology seeped its way into my thoughts. I didn't know the term oncology at the time, but I did know that cancer rates were on the rise and we still didn't have a cure. I thought about it over and over. I didn't need to be the person who'd cure cancer, but if I could be one of many fighting the good fight, that would satisfy me. Oncology hit all the marks. My BYU advisor suggested Nursing as a good pre-med major to get me started. I was ecstatic to have found my calling in life. I believed it was God's plan for me.


The Wheel Turns

My mother is a strong willed and very practical woman. I remember her being skeptical of my choice to study oncology. She weighed the debt and years of studying for a medical degree against being able to support a future wife and children. She felt that I'd do better with a non-social and math-based major like accounting. It was a realistic, practical, and stoic choice. My heart sank.

At the time, I was still very religious and believed that parents have divine access to inspiration and counsel for their children. I was also attending counseling to eliminate my "same-sex attraction disorder". My church affirming counseling suggested that I needed to obey all of God's laws if I ever hoped for a cure. My parents and counselors agreed that my desire to help others was admirable, but ultimately it was this same sensitive nature that was part of the cause for my homosexuality.

Perhaps this is why I keep returning to oncology? I never really got the chance to test out the path for myself before it was ripped away from me. When I want something or someone, I'm pathological about obtaining my desire. I never stopped wanting to learn about cancer. I've always perked up at any mention of the subject. Yet, I still sacrificed that ambition. I buried my dreams along with my sanity in my desperate attempt to become a heterosexual. My strengths and passions have certainly morphed since, but oncology still hits every minute mark on my list for a fulfilling profession.

Building my career in IT was always a means to an end for me. I was good at it and picked up the education quickly. I knew I could make good money, and remember thinking that IT would give me the time and space to figure out who I was outside to the church.


I Never Saw Myself as a Doctor

Despite having teachers as far back as elementary school suggesting I'd probably become a doctor someday, I never saw myself practicing medicine. It simply wasn't ever on my radar. Sure, I could see myself as an astronaut or scientist, but never a doctor. Besides, I'd always viewed doctors as elitists. I was raised poor, and I knew my place in society. I'd often prided myself for being poor. To me, being poor seemed virtuous. I'm still a little uncomfortable with the idea of making a lot of money.

And even though I gave up oncology so I could have more time to figure out what being a gay man means to me, I believed my mom had valid criticisms. The idea of going into $100,000 to $200,000 in debt just for a chance to become a doctor, is a huge risk. Sure, I'd love the education but putting that amount of debt on my shoulders is a big burden.

Can I take such a big risk for something that I can't be sure about? How can I know if medicine is truly right for me? How can anyone really know anything? I had convinced myself for a time that IT and application programming was my calling, and for a while it was fun... but then I somehow lost my drive for it. How can I know if medicine won't be the same?

Since there really isn't a purpose to life, does it really matter what I do anyway? I mean, do I "really" have to leave a footnote for myself in the book of humanity? I remember seconds before my car accident that I thought of my husband... and how it was probably okay if I died, because even though I didn't accomplish everything I wanted, I knew that I had tried. Maybe that's what this is really about.


Risk Be Damned

This is a big dream. This will probably be the hardest thing I will ever have to do, maybe even harder than coming out. But if I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I tried my damnedest, I think it will be enough. Maybe this is the real moment when I can look back with pride and gratitude in recognition of the courage it took to finally go for my dreams.

So Beautiful, I had to Cry

God, I need to update this blog...

I was driving to my new job today and heard this on the radio, and cried:

A poem by Edward Ledford, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army, appears toward the end of the renga. Ledford experienced the Sept. 11 attack at the Pentagon and tells Montagne what he found in the building's ruins.

"Right where the Pentagon had sheared off, on about the third floor, is a dictionary on a pedestal still open and apparently untouched," Ledford says. "And I always thought that had a lot of symbolism."

Ledford's poem reads:



Pathogens injected Trojan-horse-style; temple walls crumble
before a small
lexicon, altared and stable, unsullied, too briefly a miracle. Our

neo-tragedy was their crazy carte blanche.
You'd think they'd have read their Homer. But, like

slapping the moron beside the bully, we invade Babylon to
applause, which muted, a-hem, throats cleared for political
posterity.

Soldiers are nothing more than pharmakon charged with the
damned's duty,
enlisted to oaths that only finally matter when we wish they
didn't. The

soldier-philosopher turns the gun on himself to salvage some
meaning.
A smirk and crooked smile, Heh heh heh, sure showd em, didn
we, Dead-eye.




http://www.wbur.org/npr/135606210/crossing-state-lines-54-writers-one-american-poem

Attachments should be celebrated!

Something magical happened to me the other day while I was out with a friend of mine. I've been lucky enough to have recently found another gay Buddhist around my age, and it's been a great blessing to finally have someone that I can closely relate to in spiritual matters. We decided to hang out by eating dinner together and ended up talking for hours about anything and everything.

The Moment of Enlightenment
In the middle of dinner a song came on in the restaurant that neither of us had heard in years. It instantly brought me back to a time when I was a little boy. I remember being alone in my living room and singing my heart out! I imagined that I was as strong and fabulous a women as was the glorious Whitney Houston. My friend confessed to me that he had done that too, so we came to the conclusion that it must have been the thing for little gay boys our age to do. We had a good laugh about it.

On a whim I decided to download the song to my iPhone so I could listen to it on my way home. I hadn't sung it in ages so I didn't remember the words. I had no idea how much this song would relate to my recent divorce. If you're new to my blog, I recently left my husband of 4.5 years, and the change has been very rough for me at times. The song was "I Will Always Love You":

If I should stay,
I would only be in your way.
So I'll go, but I know,
I'll think of you ev'ry step of the way.

Bittersweet memories,
that is all I'm taking with me.
So, goodbye. Please, don't cry.
We both know I'm not what you, you need.

I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of.
And I wish to you, joy and happiness.
But above all this, I wish you love.

And I will always love you.
I will always love you.
Ooh, I'll always, I'll always love you.

That song has changed my whole attitude about how I want to handle my emotions regarding my separation. I found it interesting during my mediation to realize that this is exactly the same attitude that I first experienced when I had just left my husband. Yes, I felt a lot of pain. But at the same time I was very joyous. I was happy that the constant worry, anguish, and self doubt would soon be over. But despite it all, I knew that I would always love my husband and wished him nothing but happiness.

Upon seeing this, I then asked myself "So then David, what changed?"

Suffering from my Attachment
I then began to question myself so I could find out why I had felt so angry, hurt, betrayed, lonely and especially confused about my divorce. Since I had started off with clarity, joy, appreciation and excitement about my failed marriage then how did it change so drastically. The answer was surprising to me.

We modern humans are beings dominated by cultural norms, beliefs, and expectations. Soon after my divorce I remembered feeling guilty for the clarity and joy that I was experiencing. I feared that others, especially my ex, would see my joy and view me as uncaring or callus. I didn't want him or my loved ones to think that my marriage wasn't important to me, when in fact, it was the most important aspect of my life. So rather then being grateful for what my marriage had taught me, I chose to obey my cultural beliefs.

I was told by many that I needed to allow myself to grieve and even feel anger because I needed to acknowledge that I had been emotionally abused. Their words didn't match with my beliefs or my emotional state, but for some silly reason I trusted that they must be right. I tried to find ways to awaken to the truth that I should be angry, sad and feel victimized.

Now that I realize how ignorant that all sounds, I feel like I have learned something powerful about myself and the nature of attachments.

Letting Go, When You Are Ready to Let Go
Attachment to spouses, the idea of marriage, and even the idea of self preservation is really just an illusion. I admit that honest pain and sorrow can come from loss or injury, but even that has a realm that we can control. We are all ultimately the master of our own ship in the sea of life. We get to decide if 5 min is all we need to grieve or if it's 500 years. We don't need to listen to society and we don't need to follow their bad example of holding onto the impermanent.

I loved my husband. I'm grateful for what I learned by being married to him. I loved with him. I cried with him. I was intimate with him. Because of him, my life was changed. Where is the bad in all of this? The bad is where I decide to create it. The joy is where I chose to see it. Some people may think I am callus, ignorant, lying to myself, and even a little delusional for saying that I am happy that I will always love my ex.

Nevertheless, I chose to appreciate the love I had. I will love again. Maybe it will only last 4 minutes and then never exist again in my life. Maybe it will last until I die and even continue beyond that. Ultimately, I think I relearned that nothing really is guaranteed or permanent... but doesn't that also mean that our experiences and the things we tend to emotionally or mentally attach to... should be that much more special to us, perhaps even celebrated?

Found a cool blog that I related to today...

I found this site and thought I'd share it with everyone because it meant a lot ot me...

http://lotusflowersgi.blogspot.com/

"About 2500 years ago, a man named Siddhartha Gautama sat under a tree in Northern India and started meditating. He had decided not to rise until he had answered those same big questions that have always bothered mankind. He wanted to understand everything as it really was and not as it appeared to be. After a prolonged period he came to a perfect understanding of what reality was. This great event is known as his “enlightenment” and he was thereafter known to all as the “Buddha”, meaning “the enlightened one”.

The Buddha developed theories to explain his understanding. He typically looked at reality from various viewpoints. In examining the nature of existence he said that there is in fact no inherent existence in anything at all. Nothing in the entire universe has existence in its own right. Everything depends upon something else for its own existence which can therefore only ever be “relative” existence. Another of his findings was that even this relative existence is not permanent in any way. It is constantly changing and the prime reason for change is the law of cause and effect (Karma). The basic “content” of everything is therefore “nothingness” (Shunyata) and only manifests as “something” when a temporary set of conditions, or “energies”, are present. So everything in the universe is the result of a cosmic interplay between the unseen (energy) and the seen (matter). None of these results is constant because the causes themselves are always changing.

With regard to human happiness the Buddha taught that we must learn not to cling onto “things” such as possessions or relationships as sources of happiness because there is no permanent substance or reality to these things. He taught us to regard ourselves as an integral part of everything and everyone in the entire universe. Because we are essentially “one” with everything and everyone we can only be truly happy when we realise that we cannot be so on our own. To be truly happy we have to strive to make everyone happy and we must work on our own minds so that we can see things clearly. The great Buddhist qualities of loving-kindness and compassion are a natural result of this kind of thinking.

“Oneness” with everything is easy to say but difficult to grasp. It is useful to resort to analogies to help us understand. Analogies can form part of our contemplation of life, part of our meditation. The following is an example of how we may contemplate our oneness with everything.

Imagine that you are a wave, a single wave on the surface of the vast ocean. The ocean represents the universe. You have a separate identity in that you have movement and form and an apparent life of your own. You may be a small ripple or you may be a giant tidal wave with terrible power at your disposal. There are many other waves each having its own characteristics - these represent all the other living beings in the universe. You are not the ocean and yet you only exist because of it. You are made of it and you cannot really distinguish the difference between the water making you up and the water forming the vast ocean itself. You cannot exist without the ocean and the ocean cannot exist without you because it is impossible to distinguish where you end and the ocean begins.

The Buddha instructed his disciples not to accept anything as true simply because they heard it from a respected person or simply because it was written in holy scripture. He said that they should test every theory in the laboratory of life and in the light of reason and logic. A teaching should only be accepted it can be proved in this way. This thinking should be applied to the whole of the Buddha’s teaching, collectively referred to as the “Buddha Dharma”. He went on to say that we should base our very lives on the Dharma and not on him as a person."

Attached to Detachment, or just too scared to live?

Where do I start!? Well, I guess this was the experience that pops out most to me...

The Mormon Guy
So I was walking down the hall way of my university and suddenly had this feeling "David, log on to Grindr". LOL, needless to say I was surprised by the impression. Why should I log on to a gay hookup site on my iPhone? I wasn't feeling needy or insecure for the most part and was really happy that I hadn't logged on for a while.

Nevertheless, when I get a spiritual feeling/message I usually tend to follow it, so I did. (Yes, I know, I'm crazy, so sue me) I found this guy, who I'll call Matt to protect the innocent, and holy shit... Had I known what would have happened with him I think I would have shut off my phone and never talked to him in the first place. Sigh, so I found Matt's profile and liked that he wasn't looking for a hook-up, plus he was super cute. We started to chat a little and a few days later we decided to meet up and have brunch together at Einstein bagels(I love it only second to Starbucks).

Get this! We both went to the same high school and graduated together! It turns out that we ended up having a large amount of things in common and we talked for two hours before he had to go back to work. Later that day we met up again for a movie and we ended up talking in my car until 2am. Being around him felt so magical. I loved his innocence and his beautiful smile. Every time we'd find something else in common my heart would jump with excitement.

His Situation
Something unique about Matt is that when we met he had never been kissed... ever! We talked about a lot of things, but mostly we talked about his struggle with questioning his sexual identity. Basically, it was like having a conversation with my myself 6 years ago for long hours into the night. We met almost every other night and mostly just talked, and I started to fall for him.

Needless to say, this was a bad idea unless I wanted to repeat a lot of the same mistakes I made in my recently failed marriage. But he was so cute!!! I tried to keep asking myself "What kind of a relationship would a seasoned gay Buddhist have with a bi-curious/gay questioning Mormon?". It was difficult to distance myself and I'll admit that I didn't do a very good job of it, especially after I gave him his first kiss.

Despite his constant flirting, leading me on, and always ending with comments like "But I'm not gay", I learned a lot from Matt. I think sometimes in life we need to brake ourselves out of our comfort zones and dare to ask the unthinkable. Talking with someone who was obviously much more conservative than myself and who is just starting to form his own opinions forced me to question why and how I had formed mine. While the lessons were difficult and very painful to acknowledge, I found a relief in a sacred truth that I discovered about myself....

---What I learned---
Despite the fact that my religious and political views permit for open relationships and sexual acts outside of marriage as long as no one is harmed or abused, I realized that for my own emotional, spiritual, and psychological well being, I can't. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my ex cheated on me within our first year of marriage. Maybe it's because I was slightly glad he cheated, because I feared that I would have been the one to cheat on him first. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I felt neglected and unwanted for the last year of my marriage... BUT DAMNIT, it's how I feel.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that sometimes it's okay to lay down the law and not accept anything less than what you asked for. I was so afraid to be judgmental and so attached to the idea of detachment, that I forgot that in this world we all have to deal with the emotional, physical, and psychological states that our lives hand to us. It's not always easy and sometimes our lives can be racked with suffering. But the only way we can get through it is by acknowledging our desires and attachments for what they are. Some are simply an unavoidable part of life. Some we create ourselves... and sometimes... a nice mocha latte is the only way to get through it!

I started to date someone new recently. He's cute, funny as hell, and more importantly, he believes in monogamy. The idea of a relationship still scares the hell out of me and I expect to end up hurt, alone, and insecure in the end. But perhaps, maybe, just maybe, I might end up learning something from him... and if I'm terribly lucky, he just might make me a happier person.

-Namaste-