I spent the past few days in therapy. I have a cold. Therapy and a cold. A brutal combination.
I didn’t really feel like doing anything yesterday. I just hung around at home. Then, rather dumbly, decided to go to Wholefoods on Union Square. It was packed. I bought spicy meatballs. I bought white chocolate.
I sent the more completed treatment (with notes) off to London. The more I think about it the more I want to shoot it there and not in NYC.
I am going on a road trip this weekend. Driving to Buffalo.
Dan and I had dinner out last night. As we were leaving the restaurant he pointed to an MLK quote written in chalk on a blackboard.
“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”
I have been dragging a big bag of hate around with me since I received that childish email this summer. A bag of hate bound up with cancer, shame, resentment..fear.
My hate and my cancer were inextricably linked. My hate for him.
I am trying to love. Trying to forgive. Not Jake, he’s just a silly symptom. I am trying to forgive my dad for all the terrible things he did to me. Once again. That old chestnut. How am I going to survive this legacy?
One more day.
The effects of childhood abuse can have more severe consequences for a gay man. A sizeable number of all people who are abused in childhood have extreme difficulty regulating their emotions as adults.
The effects of sexual activity, regardless of the child’s desire or participation are significant and damaging. A child is quite capable of strong sexual feelings but incapable of handling the emotional aftermath of such feelings.
Survivors of violent childhood abuse are complicated to say the least.
I shaved my beard. I am watching TV. I am going to bed early tonight. Clean white linen sheets.
A Beautiful Moment in Europe
It was a lovely day. Nice people came to see the house. Really nice. This afternoon I worked with JA on the film which just goes from strength to strength. It’s very reassuring to get ones writing mojo back. As I mentioned before, it just FLOWED. I have something to say and I know how to say it. During the past few years I have written a couple of scripts but I wasn’t motivated to direct or produce them. They were bad scripts. Today I am writing from my heart.
We mapped out all three acts and it works on so many different levels. I will really enjoy producing this new film.
It’s not usual for me to write two blogs in one day but as so many of my blogs recently have been hideously miserable I wanted you to know that I feel great this evening. Very peaceful.
JA is not only my friend and producing partner he is also a fellow addict who really gets me. So, after we had finished cooking lunch and writing he asked me why I was still so angry with Jake and I was forced to admit that even my anger is running out of fuel.
I cannot really remember all the resentments I constructed into my hateful narrative.
Yet, having said that, my anger has to be addressed. What I have not talked about is perhaps the most sensitive reason for why it all became so nasty.
As some of you know if you saw me on the TV show Sex Rehab my sex issues have always been a problem. For as long as I can remember I have never really enjoyed or felt connected sexually with anyone.
From erectile disfunction to an inability to be held Jake and I managed to overcome many of my problems.
Even though Jake and I had ‘issues’ what bound us when we were together was our physical connection. Well, for me it was pretty amazing. For him it was probably just routine. He once said that he was only good at skiing and sex and he really was very good in the bedroom. I never saw him on the piste.
He, like most of you, had no problem expressing himself sexually but I have never had the kind of wonderful sex that I had with him. So, when I finally understood that it was over I felt (and still feel) without self-pity that I will never ever again have the connection that I had with him. Now, you may say, Oh don’t be silly..you will. But, I know deep down in my soul that this gorgeous time with Jake may have been my last chance at connecting with someone I loved and had a stab at fulfilling sex.
Once you understand this missing part of the puzzle you may very well see the root of my frustration and sadness. I tried to do everything I could to keep hold of a man who was patently wrong for me but with whom I had a profound sexual connection.
I really do want my money back but ultimately does it really matter? What matters is that I must grieve for a life devoid of sexual connection. It just made me so angry that I go on paying the price for my childhood abuse. My distrust of men, my fear of expressing myself sexually.
My fury with him stems, almost certainly, from his understandable but insensitive desire to share stories of his sex life with others whilst we were together. It was horrific listening to someone I loved describe something I knew I could never give him. For me he was the only man I have ever made love to. Ever.
It was unthinkable to have sex with anyone else. It still is.
You may think me pathetic for trying to love him but I tried so hard to separate myself from him on many, many occasions as I documented in this blog.
He knew how addicted to him I was and he would play mercilessly with my emotions. Knowing that I would always pick up the phone. Knowing that I would always respond to his text because I knew that he was deeply sad after he left his girl friend. That he was lonely and despondent but I also knew that if I felt similarly I could not rely on him to be there for me.
As was proved that fateful day in August.
Every morning I pray that this obsession, this anger, this grief these resentments will end.
As I was reading part of the new script to JA I started, finally to cry and the pressure cooker of emotions began to express themselves. I began to express myself.
I tell you again for those of you who might not believe it: He made me very happy and I was prepared to overlook his flaws. There were moments of pure joy for me whilst we were away in Europe although nowadays I really have to work hard to sift those moments from the crushing disappointments.
Lastly, I don’t really want to write this blog. It had become, like most things I do, yet another symptom of my addiction. As I read the earlier entries, before he bust into my life and I let him in…I let him in…well I remembered what it was like to be happy and I have been so very far from happy these past few months.
Even though he has been cruel and insensitive he was also very vulnerable and turned to me for help when he needed it most. You know, I tried to help but I am not a therapist nor am I the most stable person in the world.
Addiction for me is a daily emergency.
What have I concluded? I need to be on my own. I cannot begin to have relationships.
He never gave me the opportunity to say a kind goodbye…ironically, the very thing he wanted from his ex-girlfriend, even though that seems unlikely. I really tried to say goodbye to him with dignity. To end it in a civil and kind way. To let him go. I really did. I was exhausted. To end with kindness was my plan. A plan he did not share.
So, JA unlocked the pain and by doing what I do best I can let go of my heavy heart. I don’t have anywhere else to go with this other than forgive and forget.
I hope I can. I really want to. This is making me really ill.
I spent the past few days in therapy. I have a cold. Therapy and a cold. A brutal combination.
