Gosh I Love The Smell of Hubris in the Morning!
I mean in retrospect, it’s almost funny. If you were sitting in the audience watching all this happen, you’d be giggling halfway through, anticipating the crash.
Approaching 50 years old this last February and only now beginning to feel the true weight of my years, I was beginning to rejoice that the libido had finally taken a back seat. To everything, apparently. I felt liberated, really. I could concentrate on being more useful to the ex-gay cause, to helping men who truly wanted to know what the struggle was like, and to work on being a more Christ-like encounter for those who would come and criticize that whole idea of struggling against one’s “natural” sexuality was a fool’s errand to begin with.
Such noble thoughts. Um. Yeah.
So, then, almost as if on cue, May rolls slowly along and the sunnier days…well, they get closer together. (It’s not like it ever not rains here, the sunny days just get a little closer together.) I find myself getting out into the power wheelchair nearly every day this month, just to get out and be in the sun, go down to read a book in the park, to breathe air. For reasons nobody is sure of, I’m losing weight and feeling better — nearly 35 lbs. this month alone! And….
…suddenly, hellOH Mr. Libido. Where have you been?
Seriously, things that would have repulsed me a month ago now seem…um…impossible to NOT think about. Sort of like the proverbial dare: “I dare you to NOT think of a pink elephant” and suddenly all you can think about are pink elephants.
Yeah, like I said, it makes the hubris even funnier.
I find that the difference this time isn’t visual. There’s very little that turns me on visually any more. (Okay, he adds, “…so far…”) It’s the memories of times gone by, of men that caught my heart before, during and after they caught me physically. Those are the memories that return.
I suspect that the break here is fear. Lately all I hear, see and read in the news is the tussle over Medicare and Medicaid, said fight will have a huge impact on the way I live. I already have an incredibly difficult time making it from paycheck to paycheck; the adjustments that are being bantied about will most likely send me back to a nursing home. And I tell you from five previous years experience in one of those hell holes, old age is not for sissies.
In the light of having one’s life threatened so often and so publicly, yes, it is horribly easy to take one’s eyes off Jesus and watch the churning water around one’s feet as he attempts to step out of the boat and follow his Lord. Who WOULDN’T crave the comfort of physical pleasure? Of connection? Of a heart pledged towards another? It would make so much sense to do so, but it is a response that takes one further from God, not closer. And it is His comfort, His plan, and His path that will get me out of this mess alive. It is being closer to Him that will calm the waters and fill the hole in my heart that longs so much for a connection to another heart.
So your prayers are coveted as we start posting…and dealing…again.