Mistakes

I am happy to be gay, finally I feel comfortable.

I got over the nagging thought I had that maybe I was not. Only reason I thought of it is because while I see the signals every gay man give out, I do not see them in myself.
Luckily I have been able to relax a bit with new friends and it made me loose. I can be lovely and wonderful and funny and bitchy and very gay indeed if I just let me.

I am learning, it is early days, but I see me and I like me.

I realised that I need to be in contact with others, I know it is a truth of life, but I never felt able to. At work everybody needed something, specially as I led a team of people. As a junkie the only people I met were to get the next score.So no real contact, only opportunism of some kind.

I got so used to it that I lost the ability, the naturality to relate to others without an agenda of sort. I just locked my better and sensitive part, scared of anyone having an opionion of me. It really got me. Only now that I am writing these words I can see how much it cost me the mistake of not knowing what I was doing when I first got to see me.

I got so scared that I lost complete contact with reality and others.

I first discovered that there was the chance I could really be gay at 16. Until then my experiences with Andrea at college were nice at the moment, but I hated them later. I did put that down to perversion, as was in the parameter of my upbringing.

When I entered the working world, I started to see the diversity of it all, peoples and lifestyles presented to me and I was happy to try and find the best people that fitted me. I was looking for my place; the family one was lost long before, with the ties still there. I tried to be myself.

What really puzzle me is the reaction I got from the family. My whole life no one cared what I was doing and feeling, and when I looked out in the world I got kicked down again. I should have lied to them from the start, the problem is that I never understood myself and what I was seeing.

I mean when I met a girl that had gay friends and had a "label" as easy and dubbing with drugs, no one explained to me why it was wrong for me to be friend with her. Elena was really the start of my "problems". Of course she was the manifestation of them.

She was older, had a bi husband ( he worked with me), and smoked some weed. Oh, and she had gay friends. All in all bad company, or that is what mother and brother thought.
Instead of making me reflect why I was attract to her, they just cut my privileges and locked me. I could only go to work, possibly on a different shift than Elena husband.

My reaction to it was to believe that my attraction to her was because I liked her as a woman.
I know that she gave me my first fuck at 17. After that she knew I was gay. She told me. She made meet other gays.
I knew she was right because her husband gave me a blow job, plus my past experiences at school and the perverts I met. but I had no courage to admit it. Elena was simply trying to help me because she saw that I was not happy. Mother could help,maybe, but I was in no position to express my feelngs to her. The mistake of my life is that I did not give mother a chance to see me. But my experience with her was not a good one. Elena was bringing me out, in all senses, she taught me to be open to my feelings. I took that teaching and used it on mother. I told her I felt distant from her. She reacted mentally, and that was what i saw then.

I lost the support of Elena because of mother and because i was not able to communicate with her. I will always regret that.

The truth is that after that I felt that I was alone. Elena tried to should me who I was, but she did not have the time. We got separated and I kept thinking I was wrong, feeling how I felt. Believing I was wrong did not give me the confidence to go to mother for help. It was not good to be on the wrong side of anything with her. When I told her I felt distant from her, I was honest. But I did not said I was not loving her. I guess that is what she understood, though.

After Elena it was a constant battle, my teenage rebellious phase became a struggle for life. My only way of not get emotionally crushed was drugs. What I needed was some friends, and when I realized I had none, I started my junkie career. It was too late to go back, and mother was getting even more distant because of my weaknesses. I do blame her for not taking me into her arms and making me understand. I know she could have done so, if it was not for her own depression. Still, we did not find a way to meet. I can only say that I tried several times, but I was met only with her depression. I tried to understand her, but there was no common ground. Only hate and anger.

When I got hooked on drugs, I slowly retired into the cocoon I was building for me, I needed love and needed to be loved. Friends where good, but not good enough. I needed more than friendship, I tried to convince myself differently, but it only made it worst. Drugs get me to believe nothing was important. I thought I did not need anyone. Just get fixed and you will OK. I did believe my own lies.

In the process I lost my social skills. I did not have any good time if I was not on drugs. So first I did get stoned, and after I did not need anyone, I did not like to be with anyone, I could not fit.

And now I am looking back and I can see it all. I made so many mistakes. I ruined my life because I did not know how to handle the situations.

I am trying to see the bigger picture. I feel I should find mother and ask for forgiveness, but it is too late, as everything it would made no difference to me. And to her would be probably an opening of old wounds. I hope she can feel my love and my sorrow, though.