So I'm coming to realize that I have a huge fear about being gay... and it's not even really just because I'm a gay Dad. My fear is that by giving up my marriage, I also gave up on a long-term relationship possibiliy, that would have survived past retirement, and probably to the end of my life.
I know that I've only been single for less than a year, but I'm realizing that I hate being alone. I hate not having that companionship. I like having someone to come home to, or having someone come home to me. Someone to eat with, someone to care for and take care of. I like to share my life.
Sure, I'm sane and dateable, but will I ever find someone who is as into me as I am into them. Someone who will want to snuggle with me for decades to come. Someone who wants to make memories with me?
The nights that I sleep alone in bed, or in my empty house physically hurt my heart. I can physically feel pain in my chest, as I miss someone. When I finally get to sleep, I wake up periodically checking my cell phone for a missed call or text, and I feel that empty side of the bed, hoping someone slipped into it that I can shift over to and feel their warmth and comfort.
And the fear is compounded by the fact that I'm a father. And I would NEVER give up my son. That's a non-issue. The issue, is that I fear that my ability to find that long-term bond with some man is even harder cause many gay men probably didn't want to have children in their lives. Didn't expect to share their boyfriend or partner with a child.
So I close off tonight in my empty bed. I am thinking of someone special I wish was next to me and pray that they will be the one to fill up my heart and years to come with many happy memories.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I'm a single gay Dad
So I am going to try and keep some sort of momentum and continue to write, on what I hope is a regular basis. Like the title of this post states, I am a single gay Dad. I am not raising my son alone. I have shared custody with my soon to be ex-wife. I esentially have a 50/50 arrangment, which was in no way easy for me to attain.
When we were happily married, my wife and I shared all of the duties associated with raising our child. I got up for night feedings, I changed diapers, I cleaned and boiled bottles, I gave all of the baths when he was first born, cause she was afraid to drop him. I snuggled and read him books and had a ritual of having quite time in his room after he was asleep and before I went to bed where I'd sneak in and listen to three breaths before I'd go to bed myself. I was a good Dad with a strong bond... just as strong I would argue as his mother.
Strangely, after we seperated all of that was forgotten. I suddenly was the enemy, no matter how much my son still needed me. I was his Dad, but I was gay. Apparently, that aspect of sexual orientation was going to cloud my ability to be a good father in the future.
I went from a life of seeing, holding and loving my son EVERYDAY to every other day, in the beginning of the seperation, to at the worst point only a couple of days a week. I didn't take it laying down. I had a good lawyer that I trusted and filed to take her to court, when she decided I only needed to see him every other weekend and one day on the weeks I didn't have him for the weekend. I was devistated to be honest. I told someone who had been my best friend my deepest secret and not that I expected acceptance, but I didn't expect for her to forget who I was. The one thing that defined me most was being a Dad and she forgot I could do that... and at times probably better than any man she knew in her life... certainly better than any man in her family, and possibly mine.
The seperation took it's toll on all of us. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself and in part for my son. My son was and probably is still very confused. He didn't understand why Mom and Dad weren't ever with him together, or why Mom and he had moved to his grandparent's house while Dad stayed in his home and got ready to sell the house. He didn't understand the tears, or the fighting we tried unsuccessfully to never do in front of him. He was confused and felt pain. Pain I would do anything to take away from him. I just pray that he's young enough to never remember the hardest of days.
I also found myself wrapped up in my own feelings and forgot how to be that Dad I always was. Initially, I thought I had to keep him busy when we were together. I had to be fun so he'd want to be with me. And there were times where I was too quiet, lost in the feelings I was having. The all consuming fears of not being happy again, and that I had ruined everyone else's lives. But some how my son got my focus turned back around. He just wanted to spend time with me. Reading a book, or snuggling, or just hanging out. And I found how to be that good father again... someone I am proud of. I'm a single gay Dad.
When we were happily married, my wife and I shared all of the duties associated with raising our child. I got up for night feedings, I changed diapers, I cleaned and boiled bottles, I gave all of the baths when he was first born, cause she was afraid to drop him. I snuggled and read him books and had a ritual of having quite time in his room after he was asleep and before I went to bed where I'd sneak in and listen to three breaths before I'd go to bed myself. I was a good Dad with a strong bond... just as strong I would argue as his mother.
Strangely, after we seperated all of that was forgotten. I suddenly was the enemy, no matter how much my son still needed me. I was his Dad, but I was gay. Apparently, that aspect of sexual orientation was going to cloud my ability to be a good father in the future.
I went from a life of seeing, holding and loving my son EVERYDAY to every other day, in the beginning of the seperation, to at the worst point only a couple of days a week. I didn't take it laying down. I had a good lawyer that I trusted and filed to take her to court, when she decided I only needed to see him every other weekend and one day on the weeks I didn't have him for the weekend. I was devistated to be honest. I told someone who had been my best friend my deepest secret and not that I expected acceptance, but I didn't expect for her to forget who I was. The one thing that defined me most was being a Dad and she forgot I could do that... and at times probably better than any man she knew in her life... certainly better than any man in her family, and possibly mine.
The seperation took it's toll on all of us. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for myself and in part for my son. My son was and probably is still very confused. He didn't understand why Mom and Dad weren't ever with him together, or why Mom and he had moved to his grandparent's house while Dad stayed in his home and got ready to sell the house. He didn't understand the tears, or the fighting we tried unsuccessfully to never do in front of him. He was confused and felt pain. Pain I would do anything to take away from him. I just pray that he's young enough to never remember the hardest of days.
I also found myself wrapped up in my own feelings and forgot how to be that Dad I always was. Initially, I thought I had to keep him busy when we were together. I had to be fun so he'd want to be with me. And there were times where I was too quiet, lost in the feelings I was having. The all consuming fears of not being happy again, and that I had ruined everyone else's lives. But some how my son got my focus turned back around. He just wanted to spend time with me. Reading a book, or snuggling, or just hanging out. And I found how to be that good father again... someone I am proud of. I'm a single gay Dad.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Signs I might be gay
So it's been a while, and for that my dear Internet I am sorry... but you haven't commented about wanting a post sooner, so I guess I didn't upset you.
I think today I'll touch on a few signs that should have let me know I was gay...
I distinctly remember watching the Duke's of Hazard with my family. I wasn't even school-aged yet, but I remember my sister liked Bo and I remember liking Luke. Specifically, I liked his Adam's apple. Not sure why that sticks out, but it always has.
Then there were things like being a boy and playing Barbies with my sister. To this day, I don't feel there is any correlation between playing with dolls and being gay, but people could argue that my sexual orientation puts their view in favor of being correct. I look at it like this... I only had a sister and we played together. Heck, she played with dinkies but she isn't a lesbian... at least as far as I know.
And boys. I don't remember when I started noticing boys, but it's fairly far back into my first years of grade school for sure. I remember staring maybe a bit too long at boys, and feeling uncomfortable around them. Not quite feeling like just a "normal boy". I used to play games in my head that I can't stare at boys... or sometimes I would tell myself it's okay, because if they notice me staring at them, then it means that they are looking at me too... so then there's nothing I'm doing wrong.
I tormented myself right through school, and even into my late twenties. I would try and stop myself from looking to long or too frequently at guys. I remember the long drives to school on the school bus, I'd be sitting checking out, when no one was looking, the good looking guy... then worry, what if someone has the ability to read thoughts...surely they'll figure out I think about this guy way too much and confirm to people that I'm gay.
And when I was in high school, I'd find myself masterbating thinking about heterosexual sex between friends at school, or teachers, or whoever had my attention that day, but I'd find myself thinking mainly of the guy. What his penis would look like, what he was feeling... And if I thought about it enough, I would feel guilty, like I did something wrong and try and promise myself that I wouldn't think of the guy any more.
Looking back, I wish I could have told that child, or teenager, that it's okay to notice who ever I want. It's okay to be attracted to someone, anyone, and that it's perfectly healthy. I am not a defect. I am how I'm supposed to be.
I think today I'll touch on a few signs that should have let me know I was gay...
I distinctly remember watching the Duke's of Hazard with my family. I wasn't even school-aged yet, but I remember my sister liked Bo and I remember liking Luke. Specifically, I liked his Adam's apple. Not sure why that sticks out, but it always has.
Then there were things like being a boy and playing Barbies with my sister. To this day, I don't feel there is any correlation between playing with dolls and being gay, but people could argue that my sexual orientation puts their view in favor of being correct. I look at it like this... I only had a sister and we played together. Heck, she played with dinkies but she isn't a lesbian... at least as far as I know.
And boys. I don't remember when I started noticing boys, but it's fairly far back into my first years of grade school for sure. I remember staring maybe a bit too long at boys, and feeling uncomfortable around them. Not quite feeling like just a "normal boy". I used to play games in my head that I can't stare at boys... or sometimes I would tell myself it's okay, because if they notice me staring at them, then it means that they are looking at me too... so then there's nothing I'm doing wrong.
I tormented myself right through school, and even into my late twenties. I would try and stop myself from looking to long or too frequently at guys. I remember the long drives to school on the school bus, I'd be sitting checking out, when no one was looking, the good looking guy... then worry, what if someone has the ability to read thoughts...surely they'll figure out I think about this guy way too much and confirm to people that I'm gay.
And when I was in high school, I'd find myself masterbating thinking about heterosexual sex between friends at school, or teachers, or whoever had my attention that day, but I'd find myself thinking mainly of the guy. What his penis would look like, what he was feeling... And if I thought about it enough, I would feel guilty, like I did something wrong and try and promise myself that I wouldn't think of the guy any more.
Looking back, I wish I could have told that child, or teenager, that it's okay to notice who ever I want. It's okay to be attracted to someone, anyone, and that it's perfectly healthy. I am not a defect. I am how I'm supposed to be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
