One Year

Today marks exactly one year since I came home from my mission.  There are a thousand things in my mind and in my heart that I want to say right now.
First and foremost, I am so indescribably grateful for the opportunity that I had to serve as a full-time missionary.  There are literally millions of lessons I learned during those two years that have helped me grow and become the man that I want to be.  There were people that were placed in my life that lifted me from day to day, and that continue to care for me, love me, and support me to this day.  I would never wish that I had done anything else with those two years, other than what I was doing every single day in the mission field.
But more than that, I want to say how thankful I am for the year that I've had.  It has been incredibly challenging, but quite possibly the most rewarding year of my life.  I came home so scared that I would fall away from the church, that I would forget all of those lessons I had learned, and that I would turn my back on God and on my family forever.
However, this year has brought amazing and completely unexpected blessings. I have come out to more people than I ever imagined I would in my life. I've come out to almost all of my family, I've come out to friends, roommates, strangers, and neighbors.  I have been blessed with some incredible people in my life who have not pushed me away because of the feelings I have, but who have pulled me closer and made me feel loved, valued, and a part of something.
This year I have taken steps toward healing mentally from  a moment in my childhood that still leaves painful ripples.  I have been meeting with a counselor who is helping me process what it means to have been molested, and how to handle that and not use it as a crutch or as a barrier to throw around myself in future relationships.
I have learned how much I value my family, and have tried to spend more time around them than I ever would have before my mission. I have learned to love my siblings like I never expected to, and I have learned to allow myself to come second to them sometimes, which is a hard thing for me.
I have questioned my testimony.  I have honestly spent time asking the really difficult questions, and I'm still not sure I have answers, but I'm learning to accept that and live with the faith I know that I do have.
I have found myself in some of the darkest spots of my life.  I have felt the shudder of fear that comes when you aren't sure you want to be around for another day.  I have cried more tears than I think I did during my mission (and I cried quite a few times on my mission).
And through it all, I have come to a slightly clearer understanding of how much my Father in Heaven truly does love me.  I have fallen so many times this year, and every time there is that quiet reassurance in my heart that all I have to do is pick myself back up, and trust that everything is working together for my good.
I though that my mission would be the biggest growing experience of my life, but this experience of learning to be genuine, and learning to love others and trust others, and support others, has changed me beyond anything I ever expected this year to do.

Fall

I never wanted to be your disappointment.

I never wanted to feel this way.

I never wanted to be the one making the 1 a.m. calls.

Those calls where I have to beg someone to come,

Those calls that I make because I can’t be alone.

I never wanted to be the one scared that I might not make it to another sunrise.

I never wanted to be the one pacing at midnight, wishing someone would come in and hold me.

‘Pray harder,’ you tell me. ‘Have more faith.’

I want to scream, I want to believe that it will work.

I have prayed, I have prayed for a decade.

I have begged for faith. I have pleaded for hope.

I have studied, memorized, searched, and pondered.

I have served, I have magnified callings.

I have tried, I have given my all to collapse at the end of a day.

I never asked to feel this way.

I asked to be like you.

I asked to feel like you.

I asked to change.

It never happened.

So I stand, your embarrassment, and your shame.

I stand your disappointment, your skeleton in the closet.

I stand, my knees shaking, my head hanging down.

I stand ashamed of myself, wishing that it would end.

I stand, knowing that I will fall soon.

I’m reaching out to you.

I tried to write poetry during the whole suicidal period.  I don't necessarily feel this way anymore, but I liked this poem.  It's been exactly a month since that night.

Flawless Moments

It's Sunday night at family dinner.  I completely broke yesterday, and I'm still in pieces, just sitting on the floor in the living room, trying to compose poetry.  My sister comes, and I try to put up the guards, but her arm is around me, her head is on my shoulder, and I can't put the guards up anymore.  All I can do is let the tears fall, and allow myself for that moment to be seen for what I really am.

It's a Saturday afternoon. I'm outside staining the fence for my parents, I've dedicated my last couple Saturdays to this fence, and I'm almost done.  My music is blaring from my ear-buds, so I don't hear my dad approach, but he's there, and he just tells me that I'm one of the most Christ-like people he's ever met, that he loves me, and he'll always love and support me, no matter where my life takes me.  He is choking back tears, and it's the first time I've seen my dad this vulnerable.

My brother has opened the letter I left on his bed. He knows now that I'm gay. He knows that I'm not planning on being at his temple wedding, that I'm not planning on my own temple wedding, and I'm so scared that he'll reject me.  Then I get the text. All he says is, "I wish you were here, so I could give you a hug."

I just spent a couple hours with the guy I'm interested in, and I found out that he and his roommate (who I'm sort of interested in too, because things are complicated) are both dating other people, and I feel so disappointed, because I wanted it to work out for me.  But you come along and we go out to dinner, and end up going all over town making total fools of ourselves, and it's so fun.  Suddenly, I'm aware that I have an amazing best friend who knows how to help me get over stupid boy drama.

The snow is falling. It's not little flakes, it's big, fluffy, beautiful flakes.  I'm sitting on the balcony, just staring out at the beauty that is all around me.  I realize I am lucky to be alive. I am lucky that I am here, where I can see this beauty. I am lucky to be me.