Psychology
Apr. 4th, 2005 02:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
legalmooseThis little item from the Washington Blade brings back some oh-so-lovely memories (read: NOT!).
My Freshman year of college, the fall of 1990, I was a letter writer. We're talking 3-4 pieces of paper, front and back, cover to cover letters. Loved writing letters like that. Well, I had a week off for Thanksgiving break (W&L has a very odd schedule). Saturday evening at the beginning of the week I'd gone out to a gay youth group meeting in Norfolk and met a fellow college student who flirted with me pretty heavily (I was sooooo shy back then - hard to believe now, given how shameless I am currently), and he and I made plans to go shopping on Monday when I had access to a car and his Mom was at work. This was about a month and a half after my 18th birthday.
Sunday evening I'm at home and writing one of my uber-letters to Ms.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cthulugrrl in the living room when Mom called me to go to the pharmacy with her. I put the letter away, closed up my little notebook, and zipped off to the store with Mom. Only, I hadn't put all of the letter away. I dropped a page of it, and while we were at the store Dad found it and, of course, read it to see what/whose it was. Well, on this page, I'd described meeting the above-referenced young man, as well as the only other two folks I'd played with back in August of that year (I was a late bloomer). He confronted me with it when I got home, and I remember quite distinctly answering his question of, "What does this mean?" by saying in a very quiet voice, "It means I'm gay," as all color and life drained out of my face. Things got a little tense after that, but there was no screaming. Yet.
Cut to Monday afternoon. I'd gone shopping, and the young man and I had fooled around some. Got to Mom's school to pick her up, when she noticed what I had not - that he'd left a hickey on my neck. Boy did the shit hit the fan that night. Not one of my more pleasant memories of my parents, let me tell you.
So, toward the end of the week, much as the article linked above speaks of, my parents decided I was going to go see a psychologist when I came home over the Christmas holiday. A psychologist who was the father of two of my HS classmates. A psychologist who was a former Catholic priest, and still pretty conservative in pretty much everything. Fun. I offered to go to the psychologist on campus, but I suppose they wanted to make sure this was not someone who approved in any way shape or form of homosexuality, and you know you can't trust those school counselors, even at an environment as conservative as W&L is.
Oh, and add to this whole drama the fact that the week after I'd gotten to school in late August all four of my wisdom teeth decided to start cutting through. And let me tell you, teething is one of the more painful things you will ever do with your mouth that doesn't involve an oral surgeon at the beginning of the pain.
So, Christmas break rolls around, and I get my appointment with the good doctor. We chat for a while, and I, well, I lied through my teeth. "Just a phase," I said. "Just experimenting," I said. "Still like girls," I said. Don't know if he believed me. I refused to get drawn into debating theology with him (what reputable psychologist debates theology with a patient who didn't bring up the subject?!?!?), and somehow managed to convince him that aside from one other visit to take some sort of personality test (which was pretty transparent, in hindsight, in how its questions tried to trick you into contradictory answers), I did not need to see him. Presumably he spoke with my parents (did I give permission for him to do so? I don't recall. A breach of professional ethics to do so if I, a legal adult, did not do so? Probably.), who I know saw him for some counseling after that (which was probably more needed than my abortive visits, though I'd have preferred a less obnoxious psychologist for them to see).
Quite frankly, the whole thing was a massive waste of time, and simply caused me and my parents more undue stress. Which is precisely what this heaven-be-damned official government site is pushing. Never mind that homosexuality was removed from the American Psychiatric Association's list of mental disorders in 1973. Never mind that there has never been one shred of credible evidence that sexuality of any form can be "cured." No, we simply throw reason out the window, as with so much else in this administration, and bow down to the wishes of those crazy idiots who attempt to brand themselves with the moniker of "christian," despite the fact that their beliefs have little to nothing to do with christianity and everything to do with confirming their own prejudices in the name of tax-free "religious" speech. Why should they care if this causes young men and women to hate themselves? To perhaps harm themselves, physically, or to take their own life? Or merely to be miserable for long stretches, if not the entirety of, their lives? To irrevocably split an otherwise loving family because the child wises up to the truth and refuses to bow to their parents' bigotry? Why indeed.
The happy part, in my own relationship with my parents, is that they've switched 180 degrees from where they were 15 years ago. But not everyone is so lucky. Seeing irrational pseudo-science pushed by the imprimatur of government will go a long way to set back the strides we've made over the past few decades. How incredibly idiotic.
My Freshman year of college, the fall of 1990, I was a letter writer. We're talking 3-4 pieces of paper, front and back, cover to cover letters. Loved writing letters like that. Well, I had a week off for Thanksgiving break (W&L has a very odd schedule). Saturday evening at the beginning of the week I'd gone out to a gay youth group meeting in Norfolk and met a fellow college student who flirted with me pretty heavily (I was sooooo shy back then - hard to believe now, given how shameless I am currently), and he and I made plans to go shopping on Monday when I had access to a car and his Mom was at work. This was about a month and a half after my 18th birthday.
Sunday evening I'm at home and writing one of my uber-letters to Ms.
cthulugrrl in the living room when Mom called me to go to the pharmacy with her. I put the letter away, closed up my little notebook, and zipped off to the store with Mom. Only, I hadn't put all of the letter away. I dropped a page of it, and while we were at the store Dad found it and, of course, read it to see what/whose it was. Well, on this page, I'd described meeting the above-referenced young man, as well as the only other two folks I'd played with back in August of that year (I was a late bloomer). He confronted me with it when I got home, and I remember quite distinctly answering his question of, "What does this mean?" by saying in a very quiet voice, "It means I'm gay," as all color and life drained out of my face. Things got a little tense after that, but there was no screaming. Yet. Cut to Monday afternoon. I'd gone shopping, and the young man and I had fooled around some. Got to Mom's school to pick her up, when she noticed what I had not - that he'd left a hickey on my neck. Boy did the shit hit the fan that night. Not one of my more pleasant memories of my parents, let me tell you.
So, toward the end of the week, much as the article linked above speaks of, my parents decided I was going to go see a psychologist when I came home over the Christmas holiday. A psychologist who was the father of two of my HS classmates. A psychologist who was a former Catholic priest, and still pretty conservative in pretty much everything. Fun. I offered to go to the psychologist on campus, but I suppose they wanted to make sure this was not someone who approved in any way shape or form of homosexuality, and you know you can't trust those school counselors, even at an environment as conservative as W&L is.
Oh, and add to this whole drama the fact that the week after I'd gotten to school in late August all four of my wisdom teeth decided to start cutting through. And let me tell you, teething is one of the more painful things you will ever do with your mouth that doesn't involve an oral surgeon at the beginning of the pain.
So, Christmas break rolls around, and I get my appointment with the good doctor. We chat for a while, and I, well, I lied through my teeth. "Just a phase," I said. "Just experimenting," I said. "Still like girls," I said. Don't know if he believed me. I refused to get drawn into debating theology with him (what reputable psychologist debates theology with a patient who didn't bring up the subject?!?!?), and somehow managed to convince him that aside from one other visit to take some sort of personality test (which was pretty transparent, in hindsight, in how its questions tried to trick you into contradictory answers), I did not need to see him. Presumably he spoke with my parents (did I give permission for him to do so? I don't recall. A breach of professional ethics to do so if I, a legal adult, did not do so? Probably.), who I know saw him for some counseling after that (which was probably more needed than my abortive visits, though I'd have preferred a less obnoxious psychologist for them to see).
Quite frankly, the whole thing was a massive waste of time, and simply caused me and my parents more undue stress. Which is precisely what this heaven-be-damned official government site is pushing. Never mind that homosexuality was removed from the American Psychiatric Association's list of mental disorders in 1973. Never mind that there has never been one shred of credible evidence that sexuality of any form can be "cured." No, we simply throw reason out the window, as with so much else in this administration, and bow down to the wishes of those crazy idiots who attempt to brand themselves with the moniker of "christian," despite the fact that their beliefs have little to nothing to do with christianity and everything to do with confirming their own prejudices in the name of tax-free "religious" speech. Why should they care if this causes young men and women to hate themselves? To perhaps harm themselves, physically, or to take their own life? Or merely to be miserable for long stretches, if not the entirety of, their lives? To irrevocably split an otherwise loving family because the child wises up to the truth and refuses to bow to their parents' bigotry? Why indeed.
The happy part, in my own relationship with my parents, is that they've switched 180 degrees from where they were 15 years ago. But not everyone is so lucky. Seeing irrational pseudo-science pushed by the imprimatur of government will go a long way to set back the strides we've made over the past few decades. How incredibly idiotic.
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 06:16 pm (UTC)I have only the vaguest memories of you coming out. It was such a long time ago. But I do remember Amy mentioning that your mother was less than happy about it. I'm glad to hear that she's come around.
But not everyone is so lucky.
My friend John -- who was my best friend for nearly ten years -- came out to his mother, who was, to put it mildly, already teetering on the edge of insanity, back in 1996. She went completely off the deep end after that (became suicidal, stopped sleeping, etc). He felt so guilty about it that he agreed to see a shrink of her choosing; one who was supposed to be adept at "deprogramming" homosexuals. Now, John was never very sure of himself to begin with, suffered from low self-esteem, and he had a tendency to follow the loudest voice in the room if it sounded authoritative. It's appalling what this person has done to John's personality and sense of himself. He's become a total religious fanatic and now participates in anti-gay rallies and gives money -- cash money -- to organizations like Focus On The Family, all because Mom and the shrink have convinced him that he's messed up. He began treating me like an utter stranger about a year ago, because he could no longer accept my "sinful lifestyle" and basically accused me of leading him down the path to Hell for ten years.
I was, and am still, shocked by his turnaround. I doubt if we'll ever speak again, but I'm less hurt by that than I am by what his own mother guilted him into doing.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 06:53 pm (UTC)::hugz::
Thank you very much for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 07:18 pm (UTC)BTW - did you ever get a postcard from Brunei? :-\
no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 07:30 pm (UTC)I think it might be changing....
Date: 2005-04-05 03:38 pm (UTC)