I once believed my unwanted same-sex attractions were bigger than me and my dreams. I’ve learned that’s not the case.
It was the fear and shame I allowed myself to experience in response to them that made my attractions feel so overwhelming.
I imagine it like blowing up a beach ball.
If I bring my kids to the dollar store to buy a beach ball, we will have to search for a bit. We’ll sift through shelves of bubbles, flip flops, and water bottles until we find a stack of small plastic packages.
Whoever finds them first will grab one, hold it up and shout “I found it!” But it isn’t much to look at until we check out, take it to the pool and blow air into it.
Likewise, I have the ability to view my unwanted attractions as unimpressive as well. They are only one item in the storehouse of my life. I don’t ignore my attractions, but I can choose when and how to focus on them and keep fear or shame from inflating them.
I also don’t have to give them free reign in my mind. I’m in charge. A store manager isn’t going to let a child inflate a beach ball and kick it down the aisles all day. But that’s what I allowed my attractions to do in my mind for years. In college, I would be in class half listening to the professor because my brain was trying to figure out a solution to the romantic feelings I had towards a good friend. I had no fun at a party when I obsessed about whether a guy I met could tell I was attracted to him.
An Exhausting Effort
I tried to push my attractions down but it made them bigger, just like that beach ball.
I remember the first time I was a kid and took a beach ball to the pool. I had the fantastic idea to push it underwater. Even though I was a boy who didn’t view himself as strong, I felt pretty powerful compared to the thin sphere I had been tossing effortlessly into the air. I wanted to see how the colors and lines of the ball shifted below the water’s surface.
Standing in the shallow end, I laid my arms over the ball and pressed down with little effect. I tightened my core, raised to my tiptoes, and pressed again. No luck. I put my shoulders and back into it and jumped up first. Nothing. I chased the ball around the pool when it escaped my grip. After a few more tries I had worn myself out.
I was ready to give up until one last ditch idea came to me. I moved the ball against the side of the pool and climbed out. I checked to ensure the coast was clear, then jumped at the ball with the full force of my fifty pound frame.
My face stung when it hit the water as the ball skipped along the surface.
At the end of summer, a beach ball can easily be deflated and put away. But unlike that beach ball, I didn’t know how to let the fear and shame out of unwanted attractions when I felt overwhelmed by them. It was all mixed up together. I couldn’t tell where the attractions ended and my uncomfortable feelings about them began. They were constantly bumping into each other and reacting without my consent. I needed to see more clearly before I could begin to pull the pieces apart and view my unwanted attractions at a more accurate size. With the support of others, I turned to look at my attractions without attempting to push them down.
Before I focused my energy towards change, I had to decide that taking a closer look inside of me was worth it. The idea scared me. I was afraid I would find more reason for fear and shame. And it felt self-centered. I was taught to always consider the needs and feelings of other people first and spend my time serving selflessly.
But I was done being overwhelmed. Life was not working. I knew what was going on inside kept me from having more to offer others. I wanted the abundant life God promised. I was fine with there being hardships in life but I was certain I was not experiencing the life Jesus declared for us – “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
Three Steps for Empowerment
So I became open to reconsidering how I viewed and responded to my unwanted attractions.
First, I removed the judgment I had surrounding my sensations, thoughts, feelings, and worth. To have a chance at looking at them productively, I needed to believe I was loved and loveable, no matter what I was experiencing, what I might find, or how I may disappoint myself along the way. As a believer, I could be steady in Christ’s embrace and know there was plenty of room for failure, uncertainty, and falling forward.
And I got to decide what things meant. My experiences didn’t have to mean anything about who I was. My inner confusion could be an opportunity for growth rather than an obstacle. The challenges I thought made we weak could be evidence of my strength.
Second, I learned to be comfortable being uncomfortable. I could sit with awkward sensations and strong emotions and know they weren’t going to hurt me. I could observe my body’s arousal, my unwanted thoughts that demanded to be heard, or romantic feelings and not attach myself to any of it. They didn’t have to go away in that moment. And I didn’t have to avoid them or act on them. They could just sit on the couch and hang out. I could engage productively with them or I could do my own thing.
Third, I got good at defining the edges of my sensations, emotions, and feelings, and I began to see where my thoughts were located between and around them to put them in order. I learned that experiences trigger thoughts, thoughts produce emotion, and emotion leads to action. Gaining clarity gave me the upper hand.
The more aware I became of my thoughts, the more I could take them captive as scripture directs us. I could hold them up against truth, keep the ones that served me and toss the ones that didn’t.
Stones on Life’s Path
Another analogy I like to use when considering how I allowed my unwanted attractions to fill my view is to picture them as stones along my life path. They are in the path, but they don’t fill it. I can notice them and navigate around them. Over time, I would learn to use them rather than avoid them.
A small stone could be a brief arousal when a pornographic image popped in my head. A series of large stones was the sexual abuse I experienced. A range in between included disconnection with male peers, emotional stonewalling by my father, a pornography habit, and more.
I had denied the reality of these things. But doing that was like walking the path with a blindfold on and constantly tripping over the stones.
When I began recovery, I took the blindfold off, but was quickly tempted to put it on again. All of those stones were overwhelming! And when I looked further, I saw a wall of stones. It towered over me and blocked my view of what was ahead – probably stuff that was even more scary.
Breaking Down the Wall
But when I looked closer, I noticed something strange about that wall. The stones vibrated slightly and had small gaps between them. Rather than being held together by gravity, the wall was formed by the force of fear, shame, and judgment. It had taken the stones from the ground and made an impenetrable barrier.
It was outrageous! The stones were enough on their own. I didn’t need fear, shame, and judgment making them bigger. My life was precious! They weren’t serving me so I pulled the plug on them.
Easier said than done, I know. It took a while for the force to dissipate and the wreckage to clear. And I didn’t do it on my own. I had friends, counselors, and mentors walking alongside me. At one point, we climbed what was left of the wall together and I saw a beautiful future. The wall wasn’t keeping me from something scary, it was keeping me from God’s best for me – a life lived authentically, vulnerably, and powerfully. I loved what I saw.
The path still contained stones, both before me and behind me, but I saw them differently. Instead of tripping over them or avoiding them, I could build with them, rest on them, and learn from them. They were beautiful. In his letter to Timothy, Paul said that God gives life to everything. Sitting on the remains of that wall as the sun was setting, God’s sunset colors danced on it all – the trees, grass, stones, and me.