Member-only story
Fatso or faggot? I picked fatso first. Why?
I vividly recall a frightful moment when I just turned 13 sitting with my first Buddhist teacher. She noticed I was unusually distracted and wondered what was going on. She was the first person I sensed had a genuine, unconditionally loving interest in my well being. Most souls believe Mothers are concerned about their brood’s well being. For the most part I’d say that was true in my formative years. The missing part in my childhood was the unconditionally loving mother — a derivative of my Mom’s devout Catholic life. The source of my distraction? Being unconditionally loved. Go figure! Right?
Growing up as the youngest of nine in a known Catholic household I did my best to live two lives. Why two lives? Simple. Waking up to two realities that 1) I’m gay. 2) NOT interested in an evil system of corruption, greed, power and control (AKA religion). Living two lives allowed me to live in a house versus being homeless.
As my hormones erupted I became ever-more distracted and withdrawn. Distracted because It seemed like my sex drive had fried my ability to focus. Being keenly aware I could NEVER EVER date guys I found myself drawn to. (Asking a boy on a date not a wise idea all things considered in a predominantly Catholic Iowa town.) To avoid being found-out I started becoming a hermit. Comfort food became my coping tool. Why eating? I logically…
