theoutlife

I’ve been dreading having to write this-not because writing is something I fear(I would question my reasoning behind starting this blog to be honest) but because it means I have to confront everything head on and accept this is the hand the universe dealt me and I have no other choice but to play.

If you skip back a couple of posts, you’ll see where my relationship is with my family. Virtually non-existent. Until the middle of June, I had tried to at least keep some form of contact open as I felt like I owed it to them (for what reason? I have no answer).

June 16th, I called my mom to ask if she could fetch me at the train station.  Her tone over the phone was one I was all too familiar with, it’s the tone she used when she spoke to someone she no longer regarded of having any importance in her life. I didn’t pay it too much attention though as I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks and perhaps something had happened at work or she was just stressed out because it was end of term and grades had to be in.

I was wrong.

I loaded my bags into the car and got into the front passenger seat. “Hi Mom, how are you?” I waited and waited for any sort of response, none came.  I knew this would be the longest 15 minute drive I would ever take.  We made it all the way home and I had not heard a word from her,  she walked into the house and I was left wondering what had just happened. I had a meeting to get to though and so didn’t have much time to think about it all.

The next day whilst she was at work I sent her a text to let her know I needed to talk to her (Side note: I came out to my dad and was going to tell my mom, so that both were on the same page) The reply I got though, shocked me. “You had the entire car ride home to talk to me, you then decided to go out till whatever hour. Whether you choose to let me know about what’s going on in your life or not is up to you”.  “This isn’t something you could say at random, and the car ride home was in no way an ideal situation for you to hear what I had to say” I replied.

I left it at that.

A couple of days later,I came across a couple of properties she had looked at for a two bedroom place in Jo’burg. I figured she was just inquiring for when my younger brother left the house to study next year.

I was wrong, again.

I was told I needed to move out of the house by September and that I was on my own going forward. I won’t go into detail on how this all transpired because I still can’t deal with it.

I am trying to pick up my life after so much has happened for reasons I don’t quite understand.

My dad in all this? Well, that’s an entirely new post on its own.

Its OK though, I will be relocating to Cape Town soon and will use the change of scenery as place to finally build the life I’ve wanted and need at this point.

Until then,

We Live, We Learn, We Grow. 

So not that I have received a number of life threatening emails asking why the blog hasn’t had an updated post in a while, I feel like I need to say sorry to those that do read it and have waited.

After my last blog entry, I flew to Cape Town for what was originally intended to only be a few days but later turned into two weeks.

On returning home, things became a little bit more hectic. A lot has happened and I am basically having to start from scratch with my life. I’ll let you know about it all in a new post, still busy writing it all up- it’s a lot to process.

Again, I am so sorry, but if you’re reading this, I guess there’s still hope this relationship we have going has a bit of hope left 🙂

xxx

Just a quick something on my mind:

I’m at that age where many of my friends are in serious relationships, a couple of them have kids, many speak about marriage and nearly all of them talk about their ideal “soul mate”.

I have never understood the “relationship” realm. I don’t enjoy the thought of being strapped down to an individual purely because that is what society has deemed “normal” and “appropriate”.

I suppose I don’t help with the stereotype that gay men are sexual predators with an insatiable appetite for sex. For me though, I prefer the purely physical relationship. You meet, greet and do the deed. Once your done, you get on with life (which is best as my schedule is always really busy).

Its not for everyone, but it works for me…

Letting people down- I hate it. Growing up I remember the empty promises, the false sense of hope and the never ending questioning whether anything would actually transpire.

I didn’t want anyone else to feel that way.

I made it  a point to keep to my word, if I said I would be there- come hell or high water, I would be there. If I made a promise, you’d know I would follow through on it.

Living like that though, as easy as it may sound, is actually incredibly difficult. At some point I had lost doing what was in my best interests and was concerned solely on making sure everyone around me had someone they knew they could depend on.

The problem was- I wasn’t able to depend on myself to make choices that were in the best interest for me.

A few months ago, I was contacted to have a local magazine run a story on stuff I had been through. To be honest, I didn’t give it much thought and said “Yes, go ahead and schedule a meeting”. I was interviewed and then had to do a photo-shoot. During the entire interview and shoot though I felt uncomfortable, but I had said yes, so I needed to do it right?

The photographer who handled the first shoot rushed the job and we needed to reschedule another one. I still felt uncomfortable, and although not having signed any contracts or a release, I felt obligated to go through with it.

My schedule was full, the journalist’s and stylists schedule were constantly clashing and so the shoot was postponed for about four months.

During these four months, a lot had happened personally in my life, and in the life of my family.  With it, a lot of stress followed. I had stretched myself thin work wise and was working 14 hour days, only to come home and have to deal with everything else going on in my life. I had no escape, no break from it all- I crashed. Anxiety and depression hit me hard. I’m normally good at controlling it, but this time something was different. Almost as if it was immune to the tools I learnt to use to control it. I closed myself off from the outside world for a weekend and was able to put all my issues into a tiny box in my head and I threw away the key. I knew I didn’t have to time to deal with anything at the moment, my work life required a professional mind-set and I had a hectic week coming up that required a lot of focus.

Early this week, I received an email stating everything was in place and they would need me for a couple of hours to come in and get everything sorted. The feelings I thought I had locked away in that little box managed to pick the lock and escape. I literally cried when I read the email- I was going to have my life published for the world to read, it would forever be in black and white.

I was trying to leave my past behind, start over from scratch and finally live a life I felt happy, free and secure in.  With the story going public, I knew that wouldn’t be possible. I would be stopped or asked by strangers if I was the kid they had read about, I didn’t need that in my life at this point.

Last night, I sent an email asking that the story be retracted. It was difficult to write. I was doing what I said I would never do-breaking my word. I had said I would do it, and here I was backing out. The journalist in question I’m sure had worked her ass off getting everything together, but ultimately, I had to do what was best for me. I have to live with the decisions I make in this world and this was one I wasn’t comfortable with.

I’ve learnt something I will forever keep with me- It’s ok to take a step back, re-evaluate decisions and see if they are ultimately in your best interests. Nothing is concrete until the ink has dried.

I’ve always known I was different. Growing up, I didn’t relate to other males in quite the same way they all related with each other. It was almost as if there was this hidden dynamic I just couldn’t find and understand.

I was gay.

As a kid growing up in an extremely Christian household, I was taught a relationship was confined to male and female- anything else was a sin and you would burn in hell for eternity. 

In middle school, I realised I was gay. I was incredibly naive as a child and wasn’t exposed to the outside world. I didn’t know the term “gay” existed. I thought I was the only person in the world who loved the same sex. No one else in my neighbourhood was “openly” gay so I had no-one I could relate too.

I didn’t and still don’t have a close relationship with my family. My parents each had “their” child and I guess I just didn’t make the cut.  I felt isolated from my own family, like I wasn’t meant to be there. I questioned whether the people I knew as Mom and Dad were my biological parents often, more than I would think normal for a child to do. The relationships they shared with my siblings differed vastly to the one they shared with me.

 Both my siblings excelled in sports and were very popular.  I was in the middle, I didn’t enjoy sport, never understood how each sport worked and when I would ask, I was sidelined and given the very basic of positions, one which didn’t require much thought or skill. I did however, have a huge love for the performing arts, which my parents didn’t approve of. So there was just no winning.

My parents were heavily involved in the church; I knew their beliefs and knew that if I were to mention anything of my homosexuality, I would most likely have received the beating of a lifetime and be confined to my rooms four walls until I had ridded myself of the thoughts I had about boys. The problem was, they weren’t thoughts. I had genuine feelings towards them, past the point of wanting to just be friends. I knew I could not say anything, and so I suppressed these feelings.

I had learnt to keep my sexuality to myself, never admitting to anything and always played the part of a “straight” son…