I was a shy and withdrawn boy from the start, and my home life only exacerbated my reticence. Luckily, I went to a little grade school not far from my house. Most of the teachers there were mature, disciplined, dedicated women who seemed to like children. The school provided me with the structure and stability that home didn’t. I wasn’t a very social kid, but that was okay. The teachers declared that I was “independent”, and they didn’t seem to think this was anything to be alarmed about.
Then I went to a much, much larger middle school on the other side of town. Middle school was a very scary place to me. Fights broke out all the time, and there were a lot of very rough kids at this school, many of whom were older than the rest of us because they had been held back. They used drugs and alcohol, and I sometimes saw drugs being sold in the locker room and rest room. There was lots of explicit talk about sex, a lot of four letter words. I was called names and threatened regularly even though I was careful not to bother anyone. I hardly ever said a word, and still I was the target of abuse. But some got it a lot worse than I did. A lot worse. Some were tormented every day all day long.
I hated going to middle school. It was an awful experience for me, and I never felt like I belonged there, and I never felt safe. I realized that I was gay while attending middle school, and I started noticing the boys at this time. But I dared not tell anyone about that. The thugs would have surely used that information to destroy me. Harsh homophobic language was used almost constantly. Every day I heard words like “faggot”, “queer” and “cocksucker”. They weren’t always directed at me, but I heard them all the time. I was terrified that someone might find out that I actually liked boys.
When I saw the films Close Encounters and Star Wars, I developed a fascination with UFOs and aliens. It was my escapism. I began to imagine that the loving and accepting aliens from Close Encounters would some day rescue me. Eventually, I came very close to actually believing it would happen. It became a kind of religion to me. It gave me hope and comfort. I sat around and thought about how all the hell would one day come to an end when I would be whisked off to a faraway paradise were I would be loved and appreciated.
My personal development was stunted at this time. Rather than learning how to play the piano, or acting in school plays, I withdrew into a shell. Sometimes people would ask me about my interests and opinions, and I couldn’t answer. And I started to think that I was empty and worthless. I lived in terror, I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone, so I was in full survivor mode. About the only thing I could think about most of the time was the threat of torment and abuse. I was stunned with paralyzing fear.
There was a point in middle school when my body began to rebel against the torture that I was experiencing daily. I became listless and exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep. I stayed home for a couple of days, and then my father took me to see a doctor. At first he thought I was developing diabetes, but the blood tests came back normal. When everything else was ruled out, he used the word “depression” to describe what I was going through. He was the first medical professional to use that term to describe my symptoms. But he didn’t take it very seriously. He just told me to go back to school and tough it out and I’d get over it in time.
I did recover from the extreme exhaustion, but I began to suffer from migraine headaches. Several times a month, I would get these crippling, painful headaches. Light and sound made it hurt worse, as did moving around. I eventually told the doctor about the headaches, and he said they were most likely caused by stress, but again, he didn’t take it very seriously.
I actually think that my attraction to boys helped save me. Looking at and thinking about their bodies and their beautiful faces, and imagining having sex with them gave me intense pleasure. I enjoyed the attraction even though I knew I could get hurt if anyone found out about it. I started to dream about one day moving away and finding other people like myself. It was my attraction to boys that led me to give up the desire to be taken to another planet. It seemed unlikely that there would be cute gay boys on this other planet, so in time it just didn’t seem very appealing anymore.
Ever since I was a small kid, I loved stories and movies. But I watched old movies and read children’s stories mostly until I hit puberty. Then I discovered that gay characters sometimes showed up in the adult programs on PBS--Masterpiece Theater, American Playhouse. This got me interested in more serious literature, and I started watching the history and nature programs, too. My personality which had been submerged by fear was starting to develop, and I began doing well in school, and I began to think about going to college. College became my escape, and it seemed much more practical and likely than alien abduction.
It all started with boys. It was what I felt for them that proved to me that I was a real person, and that I wanted certain things in life regardless of what the people in my life thought. Boys opened up the world for me. Suddenly life was more than about survival. There was also pleasure and joy and hope.
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