“One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began…determined to do
the only thing you could do – determined to save the only life you could save.” Mary Oliver
I struggle with how much to share about this, my first real same-sex relationship. Despite the candor in my writing, it’s not easy for me to be this transparent about myself, and I struggle even more with how much I should share about another person. It was complicated, as I’m guessing many other first relationships can be.
This was the first time within a romantic relationship that I opened my mind and heart to the degree that I did. However, throughout the year and half that we were together, at times I still allowed my mind to wreak havoc on the rest of me. I often experienced a kind of whiplash between opening myself to this other person and then closing off again, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t really gay. I know it felt like whiplash or worse for him, and he referred to our relationship as “tumultuous.” Toward the end, he told me that he thought I suffered from self-hatred. I do believe I hated this part of myself for many years, and it took many more to accept — and even more, love — myself completely. Perhaps this is the work of a lifetime for so many of us, regardless of our sexual orientation.
This lack of self-acceptance would often express itself as anger at the world and even those closest to me. My level of stress caused discomfort for those around me, with my mother telling me she felt like she and my father had to often walk on eggshells around me. And my brother-in-law told my sister that he didn’t think I was gay, but I sure might be crazy. I was beginning to feel that I wasn’t going to be able to settle into my own skin this close to home.
In the quiet of the many evenings that I spent alone in that last year of living in Mississippi, I’d been re-reading portions of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden. I felt at ease as I read of his experiences within the solitude of nature and of certain quotes like, “Simplicity, Simplicity, Simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand….” I believed this was a necessary time for me to simplify my life as much as I could and get far away from any of the expectations I felt, real or imagined, of who or what I was supposed to be. I yearned to live in a community where I could be more fully myself, perhaps wholly myself. But where was this place, and what were its requisite qualities for me?
I pieced together a montage of communities and places to consider, emphasizing elements of simplicity, contemplation, diversity, tolerance, creativity, and easy access to the natural world, as well as environmental preservation and sustainability. I wanted to live somewhere where people were active, both physically and intellectually, where it wouldn’t be seen as weird or juvenile to walk or bike for transportation rather than just jumping in a car.
Over a sixth month period, while still working in real estate, I visited an eco-village in Tennessee1, a sustainable farm and ranch in Arkansas2, a Quaker education and retreat center in Pennsylvania3, and a mid-sized New England city on the eastern shore of Lake Champlain4. I also made a trip back to Durham and was strongly considering moving back there. But before I settled back where I had lived before, I thought this would be a great opportunity once again to get as far away from the voices ringing in my head — whether societal, familial, or institutional — trying to tell me who or what I should be.
And although my father swears that he didn’t really mean it, he’d made the comment that I wasn’t going to “come out” in Mississippi, and that people might kill me down there if I did. So, at the very least, I was going to set out to find a place where folks wouldn’t kill me and where I could feel safe to be in my own skin — like it was in the beginning back on Parkway Boulevard, before I knew very much about the lines. I was finally determined. This was my turning point…
Turning Point by David Wilcox (1997)
Just one turn to steer your fate
Or wait for fate to spin you
Your trusting's fine but much too blind
Your compass is within you
These days pass you yearning
Like empty pages turning
You're holding out for something real
You can't play pretender
Because you still remember
Just how full your heart can feel
But how long the distance
Getting by and getting through
Your heart's strong insistence
Says that nothing else will do
But you could try on their distractions
And wear some empty compromise
But it's hard to breathe inside
Some cheap disguise
You can live your life completely
That true path, you're here to find
Or stay scared, leave your destiny behind
It's right now, here's the turning point in time
This concludes Part I: In the Beginning. Thanks so much for reading this far. I hope you’ll stay with me for Part II: In Between which I’ll begin releasing in early August after some July housekeeping. To read from the beginning please go to Why I'm Writing.