Epithany - I'm not the 'who' I used to be, projected or foiled for others to see

It's been a few months since I last posted, in which time not much has happened, and yet my whole world has changed.

Sitting with a client this morning, discussing her family situation, I found my attention capturing the nuances of her hand gestures; the shape of eyes, her interests as she spoke of her mother and going shopping together, of what dress she would like, and love of bright colour... things feminine.

Her gaze on each occasion I spoke seemed, intensely interested, at times I felt she saw more of me than I was telling...

And there, that question, does she guess, can she see... who knows and does it matter. To me yes. I simply deeply want to be seen for real... thats a big change.

Driving away, I felt distinctly 'different', of sensing a whole array of things, of ideas, experiences and emotions had surfaced at once and renamed me.

Another fold of the onion, or tge lotus has opened up in the sunlight.

Being a male, we are as a 'group' 'supposedly' not good with connecting to our feelings. Well this male has been and is turning that in its end.

That's where the changes have come over these couple of months of idleness in visiting EC. Oh I've missed you...LOL.

I sat in the car for a few minutes, just outside the local shopping centre and logged in to EC and perused recent discussions, like meeting up with an old and trusted friend.

Then walked inside, to find the 'mens'.

Had a pee, standing up as we do, then once done and zipped up, moved to wash my hands. Stading in front of the mirror at one if the two basins, was another another man, a construction worker I guessed. He was just finishing up, and seemed in a hurry to turn off the tap, shake his hands dry and be off, which he did moment later.

In those few seconds, I noted my attention firmly on the task at hand, turn on the tap, wash my hands, like I've always done, and not dare to be seen to glance this way or that (while peeing or washing), for fear someone might call me out, suspect, name, label, blame, swear poofter... or maybe, just maybe welcome my curiosity. Are you too...LOL

There is no denying, another man's penis is a most appealing sight. (please excuse me for naming the game)

As thoughts do, I wondered what, if he might be 'wondering' is this guy (me) gay.

The drama of course all happened in my thoughts, but that it happened and how it felt, very natural nowadays, is what brings me to write now. There isnt what 'if', there is rather 'am'.

As I walked back out to the car, flowers took my attention, the layour of a shop window, scarves on a rack, the ladys fingernail polish at the bakery, my own manner of walking. All those nuances, that are so not the 'group male' interest of yesterday, and likely of young gay males growing up today...though I hope for you all, it is easier...

Everything, and everything seemed a glow, full of joy, full of - well I can only find 'gay' as the most descriptive and honest of terms - of what I was and have in the two hours since been feeling...and in these past months been enjoying. My own truth, honesty, acceptance.

Driving home, I took a visit to our local library. And straight to the 905/907,908 section where books on gender, homosexuality and other like social topics stand (have checked them out before). But something has changed in me (and what others might think matters not or far less, nor in truth are they interested - engrossed no doubt in their library journeys). The titles were mostly for a younger audience coming out and what it means etc etc... But on this occasion the enquiring man was of mature years (while still a youth at heart)...me.

The book that got my attention, called 'One of the Boys - Masculinity, Modern Manhood and Homophobia' by David Plumer PhD, 1999 was an Australian publication, its study on the title drew me in.

Flicking through the chapters, engaging in the questions asked and respondants experiences described, it was like my early years projected onto a big screen.

Of homophobia, of days when I joined in calling someone a poofter or a faggot, and internaling knowing I was aligning, avoiding, masking so as not to be ostrasized by the group, to be found out...though I didnt realise it.

Of passive/agressive coping behaviors; and my behaviour toward a teenage friend following our boys own laision. Which to this day is the one beautiful relationship held dear. Coping with what I simply did not understand in me at the time, with aversion and denial, followed by non-association, and morphing with the group, so as not to be 'foundout'.

How we lie to ourselves to survive.

Then came the realisation, I enjoyed lots of girlfriends, but each time coupled with a discomfort - that too I was unable to put a label too. Which now appears I sense as a behaviour designed subconsciously I guess, to mask the me (I was crying out to cry out about) and again avoid the chance of being 'labelled' different and 'expelled' from the socially expected of country life. As a poof, when in truth Im simply me.

Another memory prompted, standing at the base of the apple tree in our front garden as a little boy, crying as my brother sat up in the tree singing 'baby face'. Again not knowing the deeper meaning of his taunt, nor likely did he, but the imprint was huge.

Then as a teenager, naked in the footy clubroom showers after the game, resolutely refusing to look anywhere but at the wall and tge taps, to avoid any chance of being caught out and called out...poofter.

The truth, again that I didnt dare look to see, was I so wanted to be with like minded males, in reality to be open and out and known for who I am not what I am preferenced by as a male.

Well enough said for now. So much to do, the unbundling rolls on. Please let me know your thoughts and experiences if you would. Its lovelly to be here with you.

ImJustJulien

 

Thank you OTH, really encouraging and reinforceing to read your words. It feels that way too. I've been experiencing a self honesty...facing up to who I am and it is rejuvenating. One aspect of me that is 'waking up' is creativity coupled with confidence, believing in oneself. That is exciting. Reading from the book I quoted earlier was so timely and so on the mark. They say when the student is ready the teacher appears...as this is a bit like that...! I want to know, to experience this me that has been trampled on for so long, and now more and more I can see the self defeating patterns. It is exciting...crying out to cry out, this is who I am...!

 

Thank you Moonsparkle...for your beautiful feedback and so pleased my story has b t ought some joy.

You're right on about not running away...it seems that is exactly what life has been. So Ive stopped!!! Yay. MASK is right to. It seems life is full of Masks, put on this one, then another, then a different one.

Some years back I had a fantasy of going to a professional photographer with the intention of being photographed nude, with different Masks... and in the forest. And in that is a packet of runnaways to work out. Though it seems at the heart of it, a fear to come out, a want to say hey Im here, and a seeking for freedom... bare skin in the wind.

Thank you for your words so true and nascient with good energy: ". .embracing it with kindness and love"