Chris continues to be like my knight in shining armor. As we talk about things I have learned that the more I know about his background, I see tremendous similarities with him that I have never verbalized to another soul. It's amazing how our conversations drive and meander onto different topics and we never seem to tire of talking.
I digress.
Last night as I drifted off to sleep I remembered an event from my past that was hurtful...shameful even from my childhood. I was ten years old and was at my first gym class with the new male phys ed teacher. Even at 10 I loved looking at him. I din't know why I liked looking at him. He was muscular. Masculine. Athletic. And my heart skipped a beat when he would smile.
Sadly my perceptions of him changed when he decided that he would show us the fundamentals of basketball. I didn't know the first thing about it. My dad was not into sports either. So he never taught me about the fine art of dribbling and shooting baskets. As Mr. Muscle was showing us how to do basket ball lay ups, I was horrified when he pulled me out to show the class. I was lost. I tried to dribble...but I slapped the ball like a girl. It didn't go unnoticed by him...and he called me out on it. In front of everyone he labeled me a "SISSY"...and made fun of me. The other kids joined in...and I felt lower than low. I felt so low in fact that it caused a part of me to shut down...and to this day....I can't stand phys ed. Or working out. Or anything close to any of this. It conjures up all these bad feelings: feelings of inadequacy, feelings of failure, feelings of being ashamed for being the person I was, feelings of rejection.
It goes on and on.
He never apologized. Eighteen years later he died from brain cancer.
Not long ago I stood at his grave and looked down at his marker and I told him that I forgave him.
But when you forgive someone it just doesn't take the pain away.
I also remember other times and events in elementary school. My first grade teacher was a bully. She held a grudge with me because I hadn't attended kindergarten. (It was optional at the time and I surely couldn't be blamed for my parents' decision of not sending me.) She was also mad because my mother took her to task for her mistreatment of the children under her charge and the fact that she had made fun of me for not being able to tie my shoe. Mother, god bless her, said to her "If this is such a big deal for you, why haven't you taken the time to teach him?" (Mother worked with me very hard...too..)
I was accused of having a big neck......I was a "baby" because I didn't see the world as she did.
The school year of 1964-65 was absolute hell for me. I couldn't do anything right for this woman -- an old maid who was very particular about signing her letters as MISS so and so. She was older....very much older...never married. In looking back I believe she was a frustrated and bitter old lesbian. Girls could do no wrong in her class...but all the boys were mistreated.
To this day I am sensitive.
Not long ago, I was told that I would not be invited to a family gathering. It hurt my feelings. And for just a split second I was the 5 year old in a classroom of people who were all invited to a birthday party of another class member...and I was the only one not invited.
The rejection caused me to reflect on all these old memories.
Yes, stuff that happens to us as a child does make its mark....and cause us to develop defense mechanisms....some good and some bad.
As a gay man, I've had to learn how to overcome. Perhaps it was due to all this and other drama in my formative years...but here I sit this morning in my swanky office in downtown Washington DC writing this to you to say that I have lived to tell this sad tale.
Oh...Don't think that I have arrived and that I am now the fount of all wisdom and knowledge of such things. I haven't. I'm very much a product of all that has brought me here.
Having Chris in my life and allowing him to see the real Frank -- warts and all -- has done some real good things for me. He wants to know these things. He wants to understand my hurts and why I feel the way I do. And in our marathon telephone conv3ersation this morning I told him that I truly admire him because he, too, is still standing after all the trauma and drama in his life.
He was married three times in order to try to change his gay identity. One of his children died. He lost his pulpit because of the gay thing. He was bullied. He suffered from abuse as a child. He was bullied by other clergy. The list goes on for him too.
But both he and I have decided that the men we are today are the results of our experiences -- both good and bad. The most miraculous thing is that God saw fit to bring us together.
It's wonderful!
2 comments:
I read your posts with such déjà vu. My mind went back to my own experiences with P.E. and how much I hated that class and I hated the teacher. He would always embarrass me, and I think he got some enjoyment from it. One day in class I refused to do something with our gymnastics unit. I was supposed to run and jump on a mini-trampoline and land on the larger one. He kept telling me to do it, and I kept refusing. He got right in my face in screamed at me like I was in the army. I still wouldn't budge. Two other guys joined me and they refused too. From then on he made my life in class miserable...but I got through it. Thanks again for sharing. I enjoy reading your posts.
Wonderful post. Thanks for sharing.
Post a Comment