Chase This Light

I started this post a couple of days ago. I was writing about how stressed I felt, how I was having trouble enjoying anything. Worries about internships and jobs and the fact that I don't have anything worked out yet have been keeping me up at night.

I feel better, though. No matter what happens, life is going to go on. The worst-case scenario is still manageable. So what should I tell you about?

I'm doing better. We learn about cognitive dissonance and our coping mechanisms regarding it. I guess I'm not quick to feel like my situation is out of my control, it feels like it has pretty significant consequences... needless to say, I haven't been able to minimize the cognitive dissonance.

But I've been doing better. Who can say whether this decision is temporary (and how temporary, for that matter) or permanent, but I can't be here at school and pursue anything but a Gospel-centered life. You've already heard this, I know. In my heart of hearts, I don't feel like living a gay life would fill me with darkness and evil. In fact, I think loving and being loved are some of the brightest, most beautiful things we can do. I just can't pursue that right now.

I have no idea how I ended up here. It's funny because the second I knew I wasn't auditioning for any schools, I knew I would go here, and I knew what my major would be. Being gay had little influence on any of that. At the time, I was so close to the Gospel that I didn't really think about it. In fact, I didn't really have to deal with any attraction or temptation. I still didn't like girls (haha), but none of it mattered to me.

So I took my ACT, scored well, and had it sent to the Y. All-state of my senior year was really the last time I'd be competing. I got second chair to a girl that I had beaten the past four years of my life. In my audition, (I hope I haven't told you this story) I was playing my music, and then I started glancing at the judge and noticed that he was very bald. Then, I started thinking about how I hoped I didn't go bald when I got older. Then, I tried to think of any males that I am related to that still have their hair. Then, I realized that I was still playing. I looked down at my music and made a mistake. That was it. Second.

I don't know why I'm telling you this story. I'm a recovering perfectionist, so at the time, I was pretty devastated, but life went on. In the end, it didn't matter at all. No one cares what chairs I got in all-state. No one really even cares that I made it four years. These things that I felt like I defined myself by just melted away, time softened their sharp edges so that I no longer cut myself when I handle them. They are smooth, pleasant, rounded.

Maybe this will be like that--all of this. Maybe I will wake up 10 years from now and laugh at the fact that I was so worried about my future. Maybe I'll wake up and wonder why I worried so much about being gay.

I guess my life could use a little perspective. I seem to worry about the less-important things too often.

Well, that's the end of my story.