As I look back today on everything I have been through in my life, I don’t know for sure how I have survived. But one thing I do know for sure, ‘I didn’t know my own strength’.
I heard a great quote recently, it states; “We often don’t realize how strong we are until being strong is the only choice we have”. And that proved true for me at many points in my life. I remember being 12 years old. I walked into the clinic thinking that this was going to be an ordinary check-up. How wrong I was! That day in late October was the day I found out I really was different than all other kids my age. The reason I couldn’t run as fast as others without having to cough my guts up was not just coincidence. I had Cystic Fibrosis. Well, what’s that? “It is a disease that most people do not live to see their graduation with”, I was told. As the tears rolled down my mother’s face as she watched me try to get some sense of all this, I knew it was something serious.
At this point in my life, I knew I was gay. I knew that I had more than one ‘disease’ and that I could not burden my parents with yet another defect, as most people think being gay is. And I certainly did at that time. I didn’t know why I was attracted to boys in my grade and not the girls. All I knew is that the harder I tried to change, the more I hated myself. And so began a life of low self-esteem. How could I tell my macho father who already abused me physically that I did enjoy swimming with him on Saturdays, but not for the reasons he thought. It was to explore my new sexual interest in my teens and to see if I could catch a glimpse of a man getting undressed. It wasn’t sexual at that point, but I was just fascinated with the male body. If I told Dad that I was gay, I was going to be killed for sure. And if I told Mom that was something else she would have to worry about and carry around on her shoulders.
So began a life of lying to others, and myself. I just buried my desires because I was a people pleaser and I didn’t want to be any more different than I already had to be because of my Cystic Fibrosis. I survived all the beatings I was subjected to, and all the heartache of watching my mother stay with a man who made her so obviously miserable. I thought, ‘well, if mom can live a lie and stay with dad and be unhappy, then I can hide my secrets as well’. I often wondered if I would survive my childhood, not because my father would kill me, because I wouldn’t give him the chance. But because I hated my life so much that I thought often about taking it myself. “I’m gonna die from CF anyways”, I would tell myself.
So up to this point I was surviving the three things I never ever thought I could;
1.) Being born with Cystic Fibrosis
2.) Growing up in an alcoholic home
3.) Being a homosexual
Then at the end of high school, I got involved with Jehovah’s Witnesses. I always thought as a kid that God hated me, because why would he give a child this sickness if that wasn’t the case? But they taught me that God did love me. They taught me a lot of things that to this day I believe. But they also taught that homosexuality is a sin, and that God did not approve of homosexuals and their behavior. So, I just thought I had some kind of demon living inside of me, or an imperfection that I had to live with. I didn’t realize then that the one thing they were teaching me was wrong was the one thing that makes me a truly beautiful human being.
So, I met a girl. I kissed a girl and convinced myself I liked it. My wife was perfect. She was absolutely beautiful. Big brown eyes that I just sunk into every time she looked at me. We just clicked. We had so much in common, we were instantly friends. I convinced myself that I could be happy living with this lie and that I had to ‘kill’ the part of me that the bible did not agree with.
We married August 18th, 2007.
For the most part, our first year was ok. A few financial issues dealing with my CF, but living together was lovely and it was great having someone to share a home with. I actually remember thinking that I could do it. I actually could live like this. That I was going to be ok.
Then a week after our one year anniversary, my wife’s sister lost her son in a tragic car accident. Those were the darkest days of my life, even to this day. The death of an elderly person we have had for many years is easier to deal with than the loss of a precious innocent child. And he was. He stole my heart the first time I met him, just the sweetest little boy. I often went to the grave yard after and pounded on the ground asking God to bring him back and take me instead. I wanted to die. Nothing in my life made any sense anymore. That was the first day of my coming out. His life was shorter than mine, someone who never thought he’d survive long enough to be married. My personality changed almost overnight. I developed a huge intolerance to bullshit, and longed to live a life of authenticity. But I stayed for over three more years. Burying the hurt and shutting out the urges that were growing stronger to be with a man.
Finally, I met a man by the name of Howard. I was going around taking collections for CF when I met him. A cowboy who owned two horses, and a great looking man for his age. He invited me back down to the barn that night for a drink with he and his friends. Those people did not fear God the way I did, but they were sure as hell a lot happier than I was. I confided in Howard and he helped me see that I was beautiful just the way I was. He helped me see that I, as well as my wife deserved the truth. We both deserved to have partners that could love us the way we needed to be love. And as I said in a previous blog, I came to the realization that I would rather die a thousand deaths at the hand of God than to live one more day wanting to kill myself because I thought I was a freak. The thirty-first day of this month marks a year since I tried to take my life. I knew then that this was getting serious, and that a decision needed to be made. But I couldn’t do it. I thought I didn’t have the strength. I loved her. I didn’t want to hurt her. I vowed to take care of her for the rest of our lives. How could I risk upsetting her so much where she might want to end her life. However, somewhere inside I found the strength.
October 1st, 2011 I left.
It’s been hard since then. I still think about her and I wish we could be friends. I still love her, but I’m not in love with her. There is a big difference. Do I regret it? No. I’m finally living the life I know I was meant to live. No more lies. No more secrets, just purity and honesty. I am able to live an authentic life filled with genuine love and happiness. I miss a lot of my friends I had, in particular two people who kind of took of the parent roles in my life. Two people I will forever love, for that is what God would want me to do.
As I write this blog and contemplate everything I have been through, I can honestly tell each and every one of you that, I know there is a God, because I would not have been able to survive everything if there wasn’t. I can tell you that I do not have a clue where I got the courage and determination to do what I needed to do. To continue to battle an illness that I know will someday take my life. To continue to find acceptance in this stupid world that still thinks homosexuality is some kind of trend. But I’m doing it, taking one day at a time. I guess I don’t know my own strength.
“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi
xo
Jamie Leigh Fransis
