Pride

As Pride Month comes to a close, I have been thinking a lot about my life. Thinking

about what pride really means. Thinking about what I have to be proud of.

I haven’t always been proud. It’s kind of hard to be proud when you are lying on the

floor, curled in a ball because some asshole ran up behind you like a coward, hit you in

the face and then began kicking you while calling you a “dirty faggot”. It’s hard to be proud as tears flow, unrelentingly, down your face. It’s hard to believe you have any reason to be proud when 20 kids stand around watching, and no one stops it and no one tries to find you some help. No one can feel proud about being a helpless, pathetic victim.

This is just one of a handful of times I was physically attacked for being gay. But this was the worst one. I went home that day and didn’t want to think about tomorrow. I didn’t ever want to go through an experience like that again. And that night, I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and prayed that I wouldn’t wake up as I cried myself to sleep.

The next day, I woke up at 2 in the afternoon. My back was sore, my face swollen, my head throbbing, and my stomach in knots. I got violently sick, and vomited and dry heaved for about an hour. I survived my first suicide attempt.

After that, I used the money from my job to start training in Tang Soo Do, a Korean martial arts style. I trained four nights a week, and especially made sure to attend grappling and applied self-defense classes.

3 months later, I was attacked again. Same guy, but not from behind this time. He used his typical bully words, trying to intimidate, but I just defiantly stared at him. He grabbed me by my shirt, and I promptly put him in an armbar and brought him to the ground. When I released him, he got up and swung for my face. I blocked it and punched him in the ribs. He swung again, and this time I blocked and jabbed him in the throat. While he sat there gasping for air, I took my exit.

Three days later, he, along with 2 buddies, waited for me on my walk home from the bus stop. I saw him up the alley and turned around to head to my grandmom’s instead of going home. They began to follow me. Then they began chasing me. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I get to my grandmom’s back door, and ran into my older brother. As soon as he realized why I was running, he said “No. This shit ain’t happening.” He stood at the back door and told the guy that he wasn’t gonna attack me anymore. The guy started running his mouth, and my brother told him “I’ll take you and your little bitch friends right here.” He stepped out back and the three of them bolted.

That was the last time Mike Krick ever tried to attack me. Fighting back at school also seemed to stop a few other bullies from thinking I was an easy target. I didn’t get hit or shoved or knocked around very often after that. And there were no flat out fist fights from then on. But the words still came. Words that ate away at me like acid.

You can only be told that you are unnatural, filthy, disgusting, nasty, and foul so many times before you start to believe it. Their words poisoned my mind, and I began to hate myself more than they could ever hate me. I went back into the closet in my senior year of high school. I joined my school’s bible study group.

After I graduated, I found a church. A church where people liked me. Wanted me around. But soon I started to feel like I was lying to everyone. I then spent 3 years in counseling with my pastors trying to make me straight. I spent 3 years dating women, suppressing who I was, believing the entire time that eventually I could heal myself from this affliction. All I managed to do was sink to even deeper depths of depressing and self-loathing. Feelings I started coping with by eating Percocet like it was pez.

In 2008, I tried and failed a second time to end my life. Fortunately, when I swallowed pills this time, instead of sleeping I immediately became ill. I felt dizzy, my breath became short and spastic, and I vomited before any of the pills actually were released into my system. They say that most suicide attempts are not serious. That most people are just crying out for help. I can tell you that my head was so fucked up by this point that I cannot honestly say one way or the other what it was that I wanted.

After that, I started having frequent anxiety attacks. They would happen when I was alone, at work, wherever.  At times, I would be at work and they would get so bad that I would sit in the back room at work for hours at a time, unable to do anything but cry. My boss used to send me home when I got this way. finally one day, I came in and he sat me down and told me “Dude, you really need help. Whatever is going on with you, you need to talk to someone and start working to fix it.” He gave me contact info to a company that provided mental health care for uninsured people.

Soon after, I started on antidepressants and seeing a therapist. Around the same time, I stopped going to my church. And soon after that, I came out again and started visiting gay bars and coffee shops. Eventually, I stopped seeing myself as “wrong” and started to see myself as me.

Old habits die hard though. In 2010, I tested positive for HIV and the very first thought I had was “just surrender to it and let it take me”. But, thankfully, my very second thought was “call a friend who won’t let you take that option.” Within a month of receiving my confirmatory test results, I was seeing a doctor, discussing treatment options, and had started learning about the virus. I have been, since literally day 2, very proactive about my health.

Today, I’m on a med regimen that I personally selected from several option my doctor presented to me, my viral load is damn near (but not completely) undetectable, and my CD4 count is slowly rising. Today, I have friends who are more like family to me than most of my blood. Today, I’m part of a community that I love and care about, and it cares about me in turn. Today, I have a Daddy who is the most amazing man anyone could ever hope to be collared to.

But most importantly, today I am alive. Of all the things in my life to be proud of, I would have to say that this one is the one that matters most.

See you in September

I don't take off my armor. I don't let my guard down. And I damn sure don't ever lay down my arms. When you've had to struggle and bite and claw to continue your way through life, you never learn how to not fight. The moment I drop my spear, I give the demons the high ground. The second I drop my shield, I find myself overcome by the monsters that surround me. The day I take off that armor, I resign myself to die.

Is it a lonely existence? I'm told it will be. But the people I matter most to seem to stick around. And I will always be grateful to those who decide to stick to my side.

A warrior doesn't have any choice but to fight. When the battles are over, so is the reason for living. But a warrior does have a choice (most time) of what battles he fights. And lately, I've been choosing a lot of wrong battles. I haven't found my cause, my purpose in life. And so I've been fighting everything that is even remotely disagreeable in my life. I've been making enemies out of friends. I've been lashing out at people who are just as much victims as I'll never allow myself to be again. And the worst part is, I can't figure out why.

Lately, I've felt like a stranger living someone else's life. I've felt detached, like everything is so foreign. Nothing feels like it used to. The things that made me laugh, made me smile, made me happy, they barely cause a stir anymore. Or they make me feel bitter.

I need to figure a few things out for myself. And for that reason, I've decided to shy away from things for a bit. I'm not disappearing, nor am I leaving. But I'm gonna be standing in the background for a while. I need to figure out why I've become so angry and bitter and resentful about the things I do. And until I do, I need a small breaking from doing them.

When I come back from the sidelines, put myself back in the mix, it'll be with a fresh, positive mindset. Until then, I'm not worth having around anyway.

CLAW XI 2012

I keep telling myself after events that I should journal or blog about them. Yet I've never really followed up on it. This time, I'm gonna do it.

This past weekend, I traveled to Cleveland for my very first CLAW. Because it was my first CLAW, I looked over the weekend event schedule but made no specific plans. At new events, I really like to see where the weekend takes me. I planned on 2 educational workshops, and left everything else open. Normally, I also plan in pup things, but fortunately the weekend offered multiple options and I was able to really keep things fluid.

I never really plan to play. If it happens, it happens. I enjoy it, but I mostly come to these events because I like meeting new people and I LOVE seeing my friends again. The play is just an added bonus. But since I don't kiss and tell, those parts won't be addressed here.

I arrived Thursday early in the evening. After unloading and getting settled in the room I went out to find friends who had already arrived. I spent a majority of Thursday night socializing. It's what I do. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning talking, flirting, and cruising. The weekend started off with a blast. I had been told by many people that CLAW is the most fun event they've ever been to, and so far I was not disappointed.

Friday morning, I got up to a slow start and after breakfast and copious amounts of coffee, I was ready to tackle the day. The only thing planned on my agenda was the Kinky Sign Language workshop led by Sir Jeffrey Payne. As soon as I saw this on the weekend schedule, it was immediately written on my limited itinerary. So many woofy deaf Leathermen in our community, and now I know how to sign "Woof", among many other interesting things. ;-)

I spent the rest of Friday socializing, eating, and playing. Fridaty evening was the Puppy Olympics. I hadn't known about this beforehand (one of the reasons I like to keep my event weekend fluid), and I was very excited to sign up. This would mark the very first time my Alpha, Pup Tripp, would act as my Handler in public.

Sometimes, I have a bit of trouble descending into pupspace when I am in public. I don't always feel comfortable or safe. For me, pupspace is a very vulnerable headspace and in public I have trouble opening myself up that much. When we got there, I started to have doubts as to whether I'd be in pupspace or faking my way through it. Regardless, I geared up, got down on all fours, and started using some of my more helpful triggers. And while we never really have discussed them in depth, my Alpha also recognized and utilized some triggers that helped a lot. Between that and being around the other pups, I was able to really slip into the right headspace.

Running the obstacle course was a blast! I got a little confused from time to time, and that made it all the more fun. Then after the games were over, I got a new chew toy and a green puppy dish. And then it was time for pup romping. Wrestling with pups, fighting over toys, getting pounced on, piling up on pups. Yea, it was fun! I spent the rest of the night shifting between hanging with friends and getting piggish.

Saturday, I made sure to be up bright and early for the 10am Design on Mentoring workshop led by Race Bannon and Patrick Mulcahey. Lately, I've been finding myself filling more of a mentoring role for a few boys I know, and this was one workshop I definitely wanted to take. I learned a lot in this workshop, and left with a few things to think about.

I spent some of the afternoon cruising the vendor mart for a while before heading to the Leather Club Discussion Forum. I learned a lot and left with some new ideas to take home with me. After the forum it was time to get ready for the Leather Dinner. Before the dinner, I had the honor of seeing my brother carry our club colors on stage fir the Parade of Colors. And after the dinner, I won a Square Peg toy!

After dinner we went back to the room to gear up for the "main" pup mosh. My Alpha, myself, and my tow roommates/brothers all came down as a pack. And the next hour or so was filled with more puppy fun. And while there were more pups playing, there were less observers and I had an easier time with the transition.

After that, I went back to the room. I felt off sorts. I couldn't seem to come back out all the way from pupspace. Just as it's sometimes hard to get into the headspace, sometimes I have similar trouble fully coming out. The transition is still kinda newer to me. And I kept it to myself when I should have talked to my Alpha about it. After about an hour or two I felt fine, but for that time period I felt like everything was slightly surreal. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it was definitely weird.

Sunday morning, I attended the CLAW Brunch. I had the honor and privileged of watching as Guy Baldwin was inducted into the Leather Hall of Fame. After that, I spent some time getting into trouble before helping friends pack up to leave. I spent some time hanging out in the cigar tent before heading to dinner with my family.

I went back to my room after dinner, packed up my stuff, and then headed out to party hard until CLAW was officially over. The next morning, I made my rounds to say my goodbyes, then we loaded up the van and hit the road. CLAW was officially over.

It was an amazing weekend, and I definitely will do everything in my power to go back next year. Hope to see many of you soon. Next event, ILSb/Dore Alley. Hope to see you in San Francisco!