Looking back, looking forward

Late last year, after years of procrastination, I started seeing a psychologist. At the beginning of that experience, I wrote the following journal entry:

I suppose I am “in therapy”, whatever that means. Well, it means I have had one session with a psychologist and have another scheduled for this week. I’m really not sure what I think about this. At the first session, I obviously simply attempted to explain to the psychologist who I am and why I feel the need to talk to him. And he attempted to understand, and briefly outlined his own background and point of view. I feel quite uncertain about what these sessions can accomplish, because in many respects, I will be as much of a puzzle to him as I would be (and am) to those in my own community. So in some way, this could well serve to heighten my sense of aloneness. And yet somehow I feel the need to talk to someone who is well outside my own culture and even beliefs. Perhaps this is simply because I want to be heard without being judged. I want to be ungagged in a setting where I don’t need to be afraid. Not that I am completely unafraid in this setting. What am I afraid of? Strangely, I’m afraid of upsetting the delicate balance between my contradictory selves. I have a sense that this is already happening, but where it will lead is completely unpredictable. I know I will resist change tooth and nail. Yet my desire to be unmuzzled must be strong enough that I am willing to risk upsetting that balance.

Perhaps I see these sessions as an opportunity to say out loud, to myself, the things that have progressed from a deep, repressed place in my consciousness to my inner monologue, but for the most part no further. So in that sense I see them as providing something very much akin to my writing now. But the psychologist is not a neutral medium. I think I am afraid to face his values because this will force me to shine an intrusive light on my own. I am looking (as always) for comfort — relief from the muzzle — but I am liable to find something far from comfortable.

Am I liable to learn anything about myself (or the world) that I did not already know? Perhaps, but I’m not betting on it. At the moment, it feels as if seeing the psychologist is part of a pattern of acceptance (resignation?) that began very long ago but has built up momentum over the past months. So I suppose in that sense that delicate balance is inevitably changing. But I can’t imagine what the end result might be. That I certainly find terrifying.

When I read this now, I am struck by how much my perspective has changed in that short time. True, I still feel as if I am on a journey toward an unknown destination. Yet in many respects, the way does seem clearer.

Yesterday, for the sixth time I told someone that I am gay. Now this may not seem like a very impressive milestone. On the other hand when I wrote that journal entry a few months ago, the thought of telling anyone was enough to make me break into a cold sweat.

I think being able to talk openly with those few people has made an enormous difference in my view of myself. I had certainly begun to accept my sexuality as something I couldn’t change, and even as something I didn’t need to change. But each time I told this to others, I was able to tell myself again too. And each time they reacted with acceptance and understanding, my self-acceptance was strengthened. As a result, I feel as if little by little, the wall between my contradictory selves is coming down.

So whatever the new equilibrium I find looks like, whatever way I find to reconcile the contradictions in my life, I feel increasingly certain that openness will be a key part of it: openness about who I am, what I believe, and the challenges I face.