It was bound to happen eventually. But I thought the irony was rich- and so was the timing.

I was giving a presentation entitled “Guilt, Confusion, Reality” at the Montana LGBT Summit in Bozeman over the weekend, explaining the experience of people in my care, the experience of people I know well, and drawing heavily from my own life. I spoke of the effects of shame and internalized shame on LGBT persons which come at us directly and indirectly from people, structures and institutions in our world. Barely beginning to warm up to my topic, a person near the back of the room spoke up, loudly saying, “Why are you lying?”

I admit, I was flummoxed. In the space of four seconds, several things happened.

Thought one: “Who are you, and what rock do you live under?”

Thought two: “This is probably the most significantly rude thing to ever happen to me.”

Thought three: “I think he really believes what he’s saying”

Thought four: “How do I keep this civil?”

Thought five: “Don’t mention Joe Wilson, or Serena Williams, or Town Hall meetings.”

Thought six: “Be kind, Greg. Be kind.”

Fortunately, I have given some thought to being disagreed with. I knew there were going to be people at the Summit who have taken issue with me for one reason or another in the past- and some without any reason that I can determine. I had prepared myself with a response, I just figured it would come at the end of my presentation during question-and-answer time. In that vein,  I asked him if I could finish before he criticized me- to let him hear all the information I had to present before he made a judgment.

No such luck.

” No I won’t let you finish”,he said, “not as long as you continue to lie.” I remember that clearly. I took a breath and let him continue. The dissenter basically said (I don’t remember that as clearly) that kids today don’t have that shame, they have no reason to be afraid, and that he works with kids and tells them the only thing they have to fear is staying hidden. It’s different now.

The room was clearly shocked and nervous. I heard a few people talking to their neighbors. I saw friends and strangers looking at me, waiting for my response.

I made an effort to be respectful and honest. “Maybe you see it differently and that’s fine. I guess I understand how you could see it that way, but that’s not my experience.”

I could have said a lot of things, but that’s what came out. I could have quoted statistics that I know, like LGBT teens are four times more likely to attempt suicide than the general population. That 26 percent of LGBT youth become homeless after coming out to their families. I could have shared stories of unnecessary pain and suffering, very recent and from students in Montana schools. I could have shared stories of violence related to me by friends and the media. I could have shared my own stories of discrimination and violence. I could have used the very near example of Matthew Shephard, or Lawrence King, or Angie Zapata. I could have come down hard.

I didn’t.

Part of the reason was personal. I don’t believe that anger and hatred should be met with anger and hatred. That just escalates the conflict. I also feel that I need to respect someone who disagrees with me, at least in some way, because they are probably threatened and scared and in a place familiar to me if I take the time to look. I also know that I don’t want to be a person who becomes ugly and defensive in the face of another’s opinion- nothing saps credibility faster, and I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the material that I present in public, I believe in what I say, and I want to give the audience an opportunity to honestly consider my views.

The other part was that my presentation was about confusion in the LGBT community. I said we confuse sex and intimacy; tolerance and success; safety and secrecy; youth and vitality; chronic illness and health; intoxication and happiness; abuse and affection. We have few role models or examples to teach us about these things, and we’ve learned not to trust the world’s wisdom with our health, safety and well-being. We need people with experience and knowledge to help move beyond these confusions.

To conclude, I had asked over 100 Montanans to answer a couple of questions: “What is your perception of the LGBT community in Montana?” and, “What do we need?” The answers were varied, but mostly critical. They included the perceptions that “there is no community here”; that we are “cliquish”; we drink too much; “People in Montana have guns-I can’t be myself”; my friends are wonderful;”we don’t take care of each other, just our friends”; we’re competitive and mean to each other; we don’t respect the coming out process; “we are not all white with perfect bodies”; “we don’t look at the full spectrum of masculinity and femininity and accept it.” And probably most telling, “I’m more afraid of my LGBT peers than the rest of society- they can hurt me more.”

I had hope that these words from real people would help everyone, including the vocal dissenter, see others reality and respect it, after all, these were not my words, they belonged to our peers- and many of the ideas were repeated over and over, mostly involving safety and the need for a unified community spirit.

I was finally able to continue, although I admit, I wasn’t as calm and collected as I would have liked.

I concluded with the statement, “Our job is to steadily conquer fear by gently and firmly speaking the truth, both to ourselves and to the world- the truth of who we really are.”

And in the end, I have become grateful for my dissenter. I believe that angry, rude voice made my point more eloquently than I ever could have.

It’s been an interesting week for me.

We’ve been working to keep a 91-year-old woman in her home- she really wants to stay there, and the only thing preventing that is an upstairs bedroom. She has refused to consider any kind of assisted living. I asked her why she was so resistant to any kind of change. After some prodding, she was finally able to tell me that her fear is that she’ll go into a nursing home and “just die”. Her other fear is that she’ll have to give up her dog, Oscar- really one of the great reasons for her continued quality of life. I said, “Well, you know, that’s not the only option.” She seemed surprised. I said, “What’s the problem here? You going up and down those steep stairs every day. How could you live here and not have to do that?” She said “I was so scared to bring it up- that I’d have to go to a home, that I couldn’t really think of another way I could look at it.”

Talking to some friends and professional people, her daughters and extended family, we came up with a plan. She could move her bedroom downstairs. She’ll lose a dining room- but she doesn’t really use it anyway. Looks like she’ll be able to get what she wants, and those of us who love her are assured that she’ll be in less danger of hurting herself on the steep stairs to the second floor of her home.

It’s been a great reminder for me.

Sometimes, when life starts becoming a little more difficult each day for no obvious or dramatic reason, it can be difficult to find the cause. There may be this gently slipping sense of satisfaction or a slowly degenerating feeling of self-worth, difficult to see as it happens, and only obvious after it becomes a problem. Even then, it can be very confusing.

The reminder I mentioned above is to ask myself “What am I afraid of?”

Living with a gnawing, nagging, nameless fear can be insidious and debilitating. The unconscious mind can form these scary thoughts based on a tiny piece of information, usually pulled out of any context of reality. Then, fed in silence with any combination of denial, low self-esteem and suspicion, this tiny thought grows into something louder and larger, slowly shutting down the ability to reason properly, to feel optimistic, capable, or even lovable.

We have a strange way of dealing with these thoughts. There seems to be a prohibition against speaking of them lest “they become real.” Many of us believe our voices give credence to any out of control thought- that speaking them out loud makes them stronger. I’ve seen it with patients and I’ve seen it in myself.

In fact, the opposite is true.

These debilitating fears grow in darkness and ignorance, they grow in denial and avoidance. I’ve often said that sometimes our fears are like the monster that we do not see chasing us in a dream. In the dream, the monster is loud, scary and makes the most ferocious and horrifying noises as it chases us- so terrifying that we are unable to turn around and look at it. But if this fear is a problem, we must. When I’ve helped others turn, look, and shine a light on the thing, the “monster” is often just a tiny little nobody with a very loud voice. Nothing to be scared of at all. Just a product of an imagination unhindered by reality. After taking a good long look, we often realize the  fear really is tiny after all, that the words it has yelled are untrue and not the great worry they pretended to be.

That was my reminder- to take some time and take a look at what I’m afraid of, see if they’re real, and live my life. Because the fear of a thing is often more debilitating than the thing itself.

When I first became sexually active, I was terrified of AIDS. The fear of the disease dominated my thoughts for years. My mind played out scenarios of death, of being alone, unsupported, estranged, chastised and shunned. It was a circus of fear. And that tiny fear of something real morphed into something not even I could imaginatively do justice. I went on antidepressants, postponed testing appointments, went to therapy, sought comfort in friends, but I still never mentioned to anyone how terrified I was.

Then I was diagnosed with HIV.

All the fears evaporated in the face of reality: of the gift of my life, my family, my friends, my dog and my doctor. All of those crazy fears. Gone. That monster on my back that lied to me for years and years was suddenly replaced with my own thoughts, renewed by the gifts of compassion I received from others and from myself. In a way I was forced to turn and look at the “monster”, but it worked just the same. He disappeared.

And I can honestly say, I have never felt that fear since.

Life is no picnic for someone with HIV- taking meds, finding insurance coverage to pay for them, negotiating relationships, making distinctions between privacy and secrecy, in many cases being unable to move out of the State of diagnosis for insurance and financial reasons. Many of us have fears of losing our health insurance (If we have it in the first place),losing our jobs if our employer finds out about our status. We fear making too much money in order to keep our eligibility for medication coverage- which is important- my meds cost $25,000.00 a year, almost as much as the salary of a therapist. We worry about social stigma, personal safety, health issues, and on and on and on.

There can be a lot of worries.

But, honestly, there is not the terror that lived with me day and night before the diagnosis. Now, for me, the worries do not begin to outnumber the blessings.  I learned my lesson, and now I take the time to turn and look at my fear.

That monster has no power here.

I have plumbed the depths of philosophy academically and personally, enjoying the adventure of following the question “why?” to some sort of conclusion. Probably you are the same, enjoying speculative conversations with friends or colleagues and bantering about various points of interest and disparity. It can be fun and educational. Many in the scientific community look at asking “Why?” as an important first step of curiosity in the exploration of natural phenomena, leading to brilliant discoveries and a greater understanding of the natural world.
However, when I’m looking at human behavior and thought patterns, either in myself or a client, “Why?” can often be a stumbling block to understanding. It can often remove the inquirer from the present moment, rocketing them off into the fuzzy realms of philosophy, and consequently can lead to more questions, many of which are unable to be answered.
In my years of work, both personally and professionally, I have found another question to be more helpful. I prefer asking questions beginning with “What”. It’s much more aligned with the present moment and can be a great help in focusing the attention. For example “What am I feeling right now?” Or, “What did I get from this behavior?” These specifics can help create an understanding by giving particular information- by being direct rather than circular. In short, it’s more efficient. This is particularly valuable when working with depression, anxiety and/or substance abuse issues when time can be a very important factor to a person’s health and well-being.
I’ve also found that “Why?” is often a distraction, my way of pretending to deal with an issue but not actually dealing with it directly. We humans sometimes love to take the long road, but the problem with using “Why?” as a starting point is that it often leads farther away from a solution rather than closer. Many of my “Why?” questions have no answer- it may be fun to explore these questions, but if I’m really looking to get more information in order to make better choices and increase my self-understanding it’s not the most productive.
Most of us want the truth sooner or later- but it’s often much easier to deal with if we discover it for ourselves.

A Coat

I made my song a coat

Covered with embroideries

Out of old mythologies

from heel to throat;

But the fools caught it,

Wore it in the world’s eye

As though they’d wrought it.

Song, let them take it

For there’s more enterprise

In walking naked.

–William Butler Yeats From: W.B. Yeats, Selected Poems, Gramercy Books, 1992

When I was in college, I had many great educational moments- some of the more memorable having less to do with education than cleverness, sarcasm or personal triumph at the expense of ignorance- my own or someone else’s.

Probably the most memorable involved a theology seminar I took as a freshman. It was taught by a brilliant professor whom I admired greatly, and I was the youngest person in the class. I was cocky, charming and maybe a bit more arrogant than competent- but I was fascinated by the topic and I did want to learn. During a presentation I gave, I incorrectly used the term “paradox”, using it in place of the similar looking but very different meaning word “paradigm”.

The professor stopped me, and said “I believe I know what you meant. However, you must be careful in using words in an academic setting, well, in any setting. Paradox and paradigm may be easily confused in how they look, but not in how they mean. In any case, just to clarify, a paradox is a dual apparatus for parking boats.”

It took me a full minute to get the joke. But, twenty five years later, I have never forgotten it. Mostly because most of my own life and experience is filled with paradox.  It’s something that I regularly think about. A paradox is something that at first glance, seems contradictory, or even insane- usually going against common sense or instinct, which, after investigation, is accepted as well-founded or true. In my experience, it’s a paradigm for life.

I have seen a lot of people in pain, many of them as a priest or counselor. I have also experienced significant personal pain, with a range of perceptions as to the consequences. When dealing with personal pain, especially in a therapeutic setting, it’s natural to want to get it out of the way as soon as possible. The problem is that the  lessening of pain can be mistaken for resolution of the underlying issue. It’s like a stone in the shoe. If it is not taken out, it will continue to annoy or even cause great discomfort until it is removed.

Pain is a natural physiological warning system. Health care professionals all know that physical pain is important for the diagnosis and treatment of disease and injury. Pain tells us that something needs our attention, it’s a vital component of personal awareness. It’s also unpleasant, and when it becomes chronic it can create peripheral problems of depression, anxiety and low quality of life.

In my work, I see emotional pain in the same way. It helps to direct the attention to a particular place in the emotional framework of a person. In this way it can be enormously beneficial. It may also be terrifying. As humans, it seems natural to want to avoid pain at all costs. Indeed, avoiding pain is an enormous industry. Not only the pharmaceutical industry, but, one could argue, the alcohol industry, the candy industry, the movie industry and the many legal and  illegal industries that promise temporary relief.

Emphasis on the word temporary.

To treat a physical injury, a close examination is, in most cases necessary to avoid complications down the road.  Sometimes it is necessary to suffer more pain in order to eradicate it. Thus the “bite the bullet” metaphor. So it is with emotional injury.

That’s the paradox. In order to have less pain, we may have to feel more pain. And it’s not a gentle journey.

I remember a particularly difficult situation with someone in my care. She kept asking herself “Why can’t I let go? I want to let go!” I suggested that instead of trying to let go, she try holding on tighter. She basically accused me of being a sadist before I was able to explain. “Maybe because you don’t know exactly what you’re holding on to, you can’t let it go. I know it goes against your instincts, but holding on tighter might give you some valuable information. And I’m going to be here while you do that, so don’t be afraid.” It took a while, but by increasing resistance she was able to clearly identify a key to the fear that had held her hostage for several years.

It’s an old Gestalt maxim, “The Paradox of Change”, which is, essentially, change by not changing. Albert Bessler described it  in this way:

“change occurs when one becomes what he is, not when he tries to become what he is not. Change does not take place through a coercive attempt by the individual or by another person to change him, but it does take place if one takes the time and effort to be what he is — to be fully invested in his current positions. By rejecting the role of change agent, we make meaningful and orderly change possible (Bessler, 1970).

So the change is in awareness, not substance. We change not by trying to change or resisting change, but by simply being fully who we are- opening our eyes in the face of fears that tell us to keep them closed. In facing reality by entering the pain, the fear, the joy, the sadness, the shame, the anger- we do not necessarily experience more, we experience it in its proper context: fully informed reality. If we can experience the true self with all our senses intact, then life gets better. It’s the difference between seeing a black and white movie with no sound, out of focus on a small screen, and seeing the same movie in Technicolor and Surround Sound at Cinerama.

In my own life, it’s sometimes a struggle to remember to open my eyes. As a human being, I can get stubborn about holding onto my own suffering, closing my eyes to gain sympathy or just give into thoughts of anger, despair or sadness because it can be a very powerful place to be.

But I know it’s a dishonest place. With my eyes closed, I don’t have all the information I need to make good decisions- I can’t honestly evaluate myself and the world around me. I want to have all my senses alert and functioning- in spite of the possibility of pain, because I know that life is richer this way. And most importantly, I know the lies pain can bring. These lies include “You will never survive this hurt, it will hurt forever, no one will ever understand you, it’s too much, it’s too difficult, it takes too long.” All lies. All unprovable fear-mongering.

The truth:  All pain is temporary- even if we prolong it with fear and ignorance and shame, it cannot last forever. But, the paradox is, it always has something to teach- if we can keep our eyes open. As the Zen Master Shunryu Suzuki said:

“Hell is not punishment, it’s training.”

I’ve added a new link to the blogroll below, Driving Equality. They interviewed my partner, Ken last week. very moving. From the description:
“Driving Equality is a 107-day, 16,000-mile, 48-state trek across America to collect stories from LGBTQ people in an effort to raise awareness of the various forms of discrimination faced by our community in each state of the nation. Highlighting the differences in rights, laws, and amendments between the states will shed light on the current social standing of queer individuals today. I hope to create a dialogue about the disparities across the nation, and what can be done to end discrimination for all.”
Check it out!

During the 107-day trip, I will be meeting with LGBTQ community organizers, activists, and any citizens willing to talk. Through these interviews, I will gain an understanding of the current political climates, and explore ways of combating discrimination. Throughout my journey, I will make frequent posts on this website, including photos and video clips.

The project will culminate with a documentary of my experience with the aim of activating a discussion about potential strategies for ensuring equality.”

“Love after Love” 
by Derek Walcott

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here.  Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine.  Give bread.  Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit.  Feast on your life.

“Love after Love” from COLLECTED POEMS 1948-1984 by Derek Walcott. Copyright © 1986 by Derek Walcott. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC.