(This post is rather liberal (hopefully liberatING... just a warning?)
By nature, I’m an extremely vibrant, up-beat, happy, charismatic person. I have a relatively severe case of ADHD. Though I was never diagnosed properly, I started taking Ritalin with a friend who was prescribed. We would crush up the Ritalin pills and snort them. Between September 2001 and February 2002, I was using Ritalin in a very abusive manner. I would stay up through the night, “tweaked” out of my mind. I would spend hundreds of dollars every month buying Ritalin from Mexican Pharmacies. I never had any substance abuse problems until that time, at 19 years old. On the other hand, my 3 other brothers all had some sort of substance abuse problems. Before Christmas, I knew that the path I was on was not right. I knew something had to be done. So I scheduled an appointment with Newport Family Medicine, so that I could be properly diagnosed with Depression and ADHD. In January, I started taking Paxil. At this time, my best friend Lulu and I got extremely close. It was one of the best things that could have happened to me. In many respects, it was delving into my psych, similar to a psychologist. In addition to the fact that I am at that age of “discovering myself,” “finding out who I am,” etc., it helped me slowly overcome my Ritalin problem, improve my mental health, and my happiness. And then to make matters worse, one of my best-friends, Ryan Newman, died in a car accident (this is the first time I have cried about it since the funeral) on his way to LA to get drugs. L ***** To date, for the most part, I have gained a great deal of control over my Ritalin use. I now use it in much more proper doses. I have found a “healthy” balance and use it to the best of my benefit.
One of my major issues in life, was my feeling of inadequacy. I had certain feelings for as long as I can remember, that were always forbidden. I loved dressing up in girls clothes, I loved playing with dolls, and I didn’t like sports like the rest of my brothers did. Subconsciously, I had been instilled that my feelings and that who I felt I was, was NOT acceptable. Boys don’t do those things. So I acted accordingly, always attempting to hide who I was in order for my parent’s, friends, to like me. Well, at 14 years old, I realized that girls didn’t turn me on; I had an attraction to males. For me to be a male, and to have that sexual attraction towards another male was unacceptable, forbidden, impure, dirty. Thankfully, deep down I always had a light inside, that told me that I was ok, my feelings were not wrong, I was me for me, I wasn’t me for who others wanted me to be. I realized that I was gay, and that nothing could change it. To make a long story short, I told my parents that I was gay when I was 16… and the hardest thing I ever did was say to my dad, “I’m gay.” Because he was the primary person that I wanted to accept me. So by telling him this, I took a stand in the sense that I informed him of how I felt, and not how I wanted him to view me. I am incredibly thankful to have such wonderful parents who have been nothing but loving, UNCONDITIONALLY. However, a few months after I told my parents I was gay, I got into a huge fight with mom. We were in the car, and I was furious; and I yelled, “Atleast I’m not a drunk.” She turned, looked at me, and said, “Yeah? Well at least I’m not a gay!” I FLIPPED, and I mean, I f****** FLIPPED, I raged, called her a “F****** *****,” jumped out of the car at a stoplight and didn’t come home for nine days. I went with my best friend at the time, Cindy, (who had her great deal of problems too) to the Marriott Hotel Fashion Island. We stayed there for 3 days until my credit card was maxxed. I felt good, knowing that my mom was suffering, worrying about me… I THRIVED on that. After the Marriott, Cindy & I got a ride in a BMW to Beverly Hills, and walked down Wilshire with Louis Vuitton and Tumi luggage packed with our blow-dryers, clothes, etc. We realized that we couldn’t drag our numerous bags around the streets of Los Angeles, and that we weren’t mentally equipped to live on the streets. Fortunately, we had an older friend that lived nearby, who took us in for a number of days. And I’m blessed that he never pressured anything sexual on me in return for the shelter; an issue I was faced with many times. Finally, the inevitable, Cindy and I had to return home. Justin came back in his BMW and brought us home. When I got home, my mom cried her heart out, holding me, telling me to never make her so scared like that again. I felt, in a sense that I had succeeded. Things got a little better, I went to boarding school my senior year, then came home, got my BenZ (!!), and slowly but surely fell into the wrong path again with the Ritalin, etc.
Today, I am still not perfect by any means (no ever will be). But I feel good. I am who I am, I do not change who I am in order to satisfy how I think that others will want to see me, in order to like me, in order to make me feel adequate. I apologize if this is difficult to absorb, it is extremely difficult to articulate and put this into words.
Tonight I was sitting on my balcony, smoking a cigarette, when I wanted to take a stand, so to speak. I feel very close to all of you at Mercedesshop. We’re kind of like a second family. Homosexuality can be an EXTREMELY touchy issue for many, believe me, this I know. If you, the members, do not accept me for who I am, then that is ok, because I will not base who I am on how I want others to perceive me. Fortunately, I know you all will accept it; at least TRY. I hope that in doing this, maybe many of you who have preconceived notions, or intolerance to the whole gay issue (which I think is a fear formed from lack of information), can be somewhat informed. I would be perfectly open to any questions anyone might have.
Now that I’m wrapping this up, and re-reading what I have written, I just want to clarify that I don’t define who I am based upon my sexual orientation, not in the least. It’s just an aspect of my life. I actually intended to say a lot more about other things, and a lot less about the whole gay thing, but I guess that’s where this ‘essay’ ended up.
A great big issue which I’m still having, and just gets stronger and stronger (when it should be passing), is thinking about Ryan’s death. It seems every day his death impacts me more and more. Like I said, tonight is the first night I’ve cried since the funeral… and it gets worse. I’m in a rut with that whole deal… Any suggestions?
Many times I do things that I feel so right about, but later regret to the fullest. Posting this document onto the forum is a perfect example. But I feel as though my initial instinct is the right one.
Thanks everyone, and I truly value this “online family” we have here.
(I’m going to attach a few pictures to try and make this post as REAL as possible.)
This is a picture of Ryan Newman and I about a month before the accident.
