Freedom

Shame, Shame, Shame. Those words have rung in my ears for as long as I can remember. It’s an all-consuming force that has surrounded me and oppressed me. Disconnecting me from those around me. Whispering to me that I am not enough. Reminding me that if anyone knew who I really was, they wouldn’t like me. I was not worthy of love. I carried it in silence. It allowed me to split into three different people. There was the public Jeff, the addict Jeff, and the gay Jeff. Each layer of me was encased in its own layer of shame. At the core was self-hatred that radiated throughout me. I hated my existence. Shame robbed me of a life of connection. In November of 2022 in rehab, I heard a word that scared me to death, and I instantly knew it was the antidote to shame. It scared me because it would allow people to know me. If I told my story, what would my family, friends, future employers, future friends or even a potential spouse think? Was I too damaged to be loved. Had I lived a horrible life and used people for my own gain? Shame gripped me tighter demanding I keep my secrets to myself. It told me I didn’t need anyone else in my life. Unfortunately for shame at that particular time in my life I was still in the aftermath of my meth psychosis, and I had believed that all of my exploits over the past 5 months had been filmed and so I decided to write about them. I decided that I would beat whoever had recorded me to the punch and tell my story first. I wrote my first blog post A Brown Bag and let my house manager read it. I watched her as she read it, looking for shock, revulsion, hatred, and disgust on her face, instead I saw compassion, love and tears in her eyes. When she finished, she set it down and hugged me. I cried and something changed in me. She saw me and didn’t run. Shame had lied to me. This is who I am.

February 2022

Day 1- Puerto Vallarta

I landed in Puerto Vallarta two days before my 50th birthday. As I walked down the jetway I was filled with excitement and uncertainty. I was anticipating a week of laying on the beach, celebrating myself and sex. Lots of sex. My focus was to be present each moment and drift through the week wherever the wind took me. I had been in contact with several men prior to my arrival with plans to maybe meet up with them at some point. It was Beef Dip, Puerto Vallarta’s version of bear week. A weeklong celebration of gay men of all shapes and sizes and their admirers. I had experienced a similar week 6 months prior in Stiges, Spain and had experienced a feeling of wholeness I had not felt before and so the only expectation I had for the week is that by the end of 6-day trip, I would feel better about myself. I was seeking external validation to boost my self-confidence and self-esteem. I didn’t know this at the time, nor did I know how to build myself up on my own.  I was traveling alone, and this would be my week.

I had been to Puerto Vallarta once before 6 months prior and it had been the rainy season and not a lot of tourists. It took about 2 hours to pass through customs and when I went through the double doors after finally making it past the second security screening, I was ready. When leaving the airport, you must walk through a tunnel of beautiful men and woman hawking free massages, free taxi rides, free dinners and free excursions all for the low cost of a time share presentation. I walked with my head down, not daring to make eye contact. I’m easily swayed to make large impulse purchases and a time share was not something I could afford, free massage or not. I made it outside to paradise, 80 degrees, clear blue skies, palm trees, the smell of the ocean and low humidity. On my 30-minute taxi ride to the hotel, I caught glimpses of the Pacific Ocean and cruise ships docked through the crowded streets and buildings to the west. Puerto Vallarta sits in a giant bay lined with resorts on the beach from one end to the other surrounded by mountains covered in a tropical forest. High season was in full effect. The streets were packed, and all the shops were open. People were carrying shopping bags, drinks or beach supplies and the energy in the streets was palpable.  The anticipation of the week ahead continued to build as the taxi crawled through the hustle and bustle. I arrived at the boutique hotel in the heart of the Zona Romantica, a 10-minute walk to the beach and a 10-minute walk to the gay nightclub district. The hotels and Airbnb’s in PV have strict rules about allowing guests to bring non-registered guests back to their room. It’s not allowed at most places for your own safety. I had picked this hotel because it didn’t have those rules. The suite was small with a king size bed off to one side that I had to shimmy around to get to the bathroom. I unpacked and headed to the streets with no set agenda.

I hadn’t really explored much the last time I was here and wanted to get a lay of the land. I walked through the streets in what felt like a dream-like state. I drifted through the crowds, entering a store if something caught my eye, hoping to meet someone to talk with and make a connection. As I passed a store front a beautiful man smiled at me. I stopped. 30 minutes later I was walking out of the store with a $400 eye cream, however I was able to say no to the $1,200 red light wand.  I never used the cream and I think it’s packed somewhere with the rest of my stuff in storage. I continued and came across another guy who smiled at me from a bench. The next thing I knew I was in a shop scheduling a time share visit for the following morning at a resort. The Travel Agent told me if I stayed an hour at the presentation, I would get a free breakfast and he would get $80 for bringing me. I had nothing planned for tomorrow and I thought why not. Try a new experience, plus he was cute. I would also get a free massage for my time. He would pick me up at my hotel in the morning and drive me the 10 minutes up the coast.  I headed back to my room to make plans for the evening. I fired up the hook up apps and went to work. I also reached out to the men I had already been chatting with to see when we could meet up during the week. I chatted with many men and laid the groundwork for hooking up later.  Grindr in PV is loaded with escorts. I also chatted with a few, getting prices and services. My goal was to meet men at night in the nightclub district, but I am more comfortable arranging hookups on the apps than meeting in person. I have social anxiety and tend to stand in a group of people alone, feeling uncomfortable and having conversations in my head with myself about what I should be doing or wishing what I was doing. I had the belief that I’m not interesting or attractive and no one would want to get to know me. Shame doing its job. It would isolate me and protect me from getting hurt or rejected. It was easier to not try than to expose myself. Shame reinforced negative beliefs about myself that there was something wrong with me. Who I was at my core was wrong.

I headed out for the night. Dinner was up first. I found a table at an open aired restaurant that was situated on a busy intersection. I had a great view of all the beautiful people passing by. Everyone seemed to be with someone else. I was the only person in the restaurant eating alone. I sat there looking at groups of people wishing I belonged. Wishing that I could be the person that I saw everyone else being. I finished up my burger and headed to the nightclub district. Most of the gay nightclubs in PV are on one street and it was the center for Beef Dip nighttime activities. The street was blocked off at both ends and music was blaring from competing clubs in the streets and men were dressed in various stages of undress. Skin was showing everywhere, except for me. I was in my classic button-down plaid shirt, shorts and flip flops. As I hit the first corner on the street there were four locals standing and I was offered the chance to buy cocaine. I declined and headed into the melee. I moved through the crowd feeling uncomfortable and disconnected. Alcohol had always been the crutch I used in these situations. It helped me to feel part of the crowd. I hadn’t drank in 14.5 years and wasn’t planning on beginning now. The anxiety I felt was normal. It was how I went through life. I made my rounds through the bars and nightclubs, smiling and watching. Never speaking to anyone. I would stand, observe and hope someone would speak to me. As I was getting ready to leave the area and head back to the hotel and get on Grindr, I noticed Dallas 2 (D2), I later named him, moving through the crowds. He looked to be in his late 20’s, shirt was off, tight jeans, dark hair, caramel colored skin, muscles abound and a silver chain on his neck. Everyone’s heads were turning as he moved through the streets. He moved his way towards me and ended up stopping next to me. I smiled, he smiled, and I said hello. D2 and I ended up talking for a bit, exchanged numbers with plans to meet up later. I headed out feeling a little bit better about myself.

When I got back to the hotel, I contacted one of the guys I was messaging with earlier that was online. He was staying a few buildings away. I showered up and headed over. I texted him when I arrived at the condo complex, and he headed down to meet me at security. When the elevator opened, he was not alone.  The guy I went to meet was a 32-year-old Latino from North Carolina. The other guy looked to be a 50-year-old scraggly slightly overweight bear. In other words, me. I prefer men that are opposite of me and younger than me even if its by a year.  Apparently, the Latino had a type as well. I got into the elevator unsure of what was to happen. We got to the condo and as we walked in there was another older man standing at the kitchen counter, with his head laying on the counter completely passed out. The Latino said, that’s my husband, let’s go to the bedroom. The three of us headed back and stripped off our clothes. The Latino and I both ended up taking turns on the other guy and as we finished and were dressing the door to the bedroom opened. It was the husband, and he says, looks like I missed some fun. I finished dressing and took off, feeling slightly underwhelmed by the experience. As I got in the elevator, I texted the D2 from earlier. He was ready to meet up and I wasn’t done. I met him at his hotel, and we had sex, twice. I felt satisfied and a bit whole inside. I had made a connection with D2 and it wasn’t going to be the last time I saw him, but that’s another trip.

Day 2-The Escort

I woke up feeling good about myself, showered, drank some coffee and headed down to meet the Travel Agent for my ride up to the timeshare presentation. As we drove along the coast, he told me the rules so that he could get paid the $80 and I would get my voucher for a free massage. I had to stay an hour, show my passport, my return airline ticket home and verify that I was single. The resort was beautiful, with spectacular views, accommodation and the breakfast buffet enormous. I made it through the presentation, barely without buying. The reality was I had about $5,000 in cash in my accounts and was mainly living on my credit cards. I headed back to my hotel in an uber with massage voucher in hand. I changed and headed to the beach for the rest of the day.

I ended up at Blue Chairs hotel for the day on the beach. The beaches are public in PV, but most of the beachfront space is taken up by beach clubs and resorts. As you walk on to the beach, waiters grab you and take you an umbrella and chair in the sand. The earlier you get there the closer to the ocean you get. Most seats are reserved the day ahead I learned by generously tipping the waiters. They block off seats waiting for your party to show up at any point during the day. The waiters are running drinks and food back and forth all day. I ordered my diet coke, pulled out my book and settled in. Not long after sitting on the beach the vendors begin arriving at your chair. They are dressed in white and are sanctioned by someone to sell to all the tourists on the beach. There are hats, sunglasses, blankets, bracelets, necklaces and everything else you can imagine. Each person sells one particular item. It’s a nonstop parade all day long. Now the cigar guy is the most important guy on the beach I learned. He doesn’t sell cigars. When he stopped by my chair, he opened his case displaying the cigars and said, molly, coke or weed? Drugs and drinks are all over the place on the beach. Each time I said no and continued to drink my diet cokes and watch the party around me, speaking only to the waiters. At the end of the day, I over tipped the waiter, telling him I’d be back tomorrow and wanted to be closer to the ocean. When I got back to my room, I got on Grindr, chatted with an escort and arranged for him to come to my room later that evening. I didn’t feel like working hard for sex tonight and it was easier to purchase what I wanted. He showed up on time, delivered what was promised. We laid around for a bit after making small talik. He was a nice guy with a budding music career. I didn’t feel better or worse having paid for sex. He left I got dressed and headed to the nightclub district. I moved through the streets and clubs looking for a connection of some sort, smiling and standing. I ended up chatting with one guy that night from Los Angeles. He introduced me to his husband after we finished kissing. I headed back to my room alone and went to bed.

Day 3-My Birthday

As I walked down the stairs onto the beach at Blue Chairs my waiter from yesterday saw me and brought me to my chair he had waiting, much closer to the Ocean. It’s my 50^th birthday today. Another one alone. Every year my birthday is a time of reflection for me. I think about where I am in life, where I’ve been, and where I want to go. Year after year it’s the same cycle. Professionally I’ve been content and happy. However, the past couple years since the closing of the restaurant I’ve been stuck. I have no desire to go back to work. I have not dealt with the effect on me of closing the restaurant. It was hard. It was hard the last couple of years the restaurant was open. Even now, 8 months sober I’ve not spoken much about those 4 years of running the restaurant with my sponsor or therapists. I am realizing that I have compartmentalized that part of my life and I am still consulting the therapist in my head. I feel like a failure. It’s the first time in my professional career that I did not achieve the vision I had for myself when I began. I’ve never doubted my abilities to succeed. I do now.  Adding on top of that my feeling of a failure in my personal life. I wanted to be seen and few knew I was gay. Shame I realize still had its grip on me. If only people could see me, know me, maybe then I would feel different, feel connected.

I got myself set up on the beach and began the day with my diet coke and book. People began to flood the beach. Drinks & drugs all around as I sat alone. One of the guys I had been messaging with prior to my arrival in PV was going to be meeting me in the afternoon on the beach. I didn’t know much about him other than he was a local realtor. He arrived on time, stripped down to his speedo, ordered a beer and we chatted for the next couple of hours on the beach. It felt nice to be sitting with someone, part of something. I was attracted to him, physically and personality wise. The PV Realtor was cool and kind. However, I couldn’t get a read on him and how he felt about me. I had met him on an event page for beef dip, so I figured he was attracted to bears, but we vary to such size and degree, I wasn’t sure if I fell in his wheelhouse. At one point, he asked if I wanted to go in the ocean. I agreed and we headed in. We floated for about 3 minutes 20 feet offshore when he swam in close to me and flicked my nipple. I looked up, smiled, pulled him in close to me and began kissing. He asked how far my hotel was from the beach. 20 minutes later we were in my room having sex for the next couple of hours. When the PV Realtor left, I felt much better about myself than when the day had started. I would see him again on another trip. However, a couple of hours later as I sat at my birthday dinner the feelings of absolute loneliness and emptiness crashed down on me. As I sat there, I received a text from the escort I had been with the previous night asking what I was up to. He ended up joining me at the restaurant at the end of my dinner. We chatted for a bit, and I told him I was heading back to my hotel. He asked if he could join me, I said sure, but I wasn’t paying tonight. He ended up leaving me before I made it back to my room. I changed and headed out to the bars. I did my typical smile, walk and stand. Never talking to anyone that night. Instead of walking back to my room I decided to get a taxi. Just as I opened the door to get in, I looked back and saw a guy walking alone and smiling at me. I smiled back and shut the door to the taxi. I spent the next 10 minutes walking the streets chatting with the guy. We got to the point where we were to head our separate ways and I asked him if he wanted to come back to my room. We spent the next couple of hours together having sex. After he left, I checked my Grindr messages, tomorrow was a new day. I saw the first message from The Singer. I didn’t respond and went to bed, alone.

Day 4-I’m Out

I woke up the day after my birthday and headed to the beach. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, of being alone, disconnected from everyone. No one knew me. The time had come to find some freedom and peace. My waiter took me to the front row of chairs, ocean view. I got myself situated, took a selfie and posted it on Facebook. I turned 50 yesterday, I am 14 years sober, I’m Gay. Live the life you want, not one in fear and hit post. I began crying. I was officially all the way out of the closet. Facebook gay. Relief washed over me. An entire lifetime of living a split life had just ended. I had no intention when I woke up of posting what I did. Something had come over me. In 4 sentences I had removed a big chunk of shame that surrounded me. As I sat there alone, I felt seen. I had validated myself. What I came to realize was that by hiding who I was, I had not given others the opportunity to know me. I had made the decision for them I had allowed my shame to decide what others would think about me. Now my relationships would be based on a solid foundation. What I also didn’t realize was that the final wall holding my addiction back had been brought down.  It was loose to run havoc on my mind. As I sat on the beach watching the other gays drink and drug and have fun, I began thinking about how if I could just join them, I would belong. I am one of them. I never got to live a gay life in the public. Now is my time. While I had the thoughts, I did not act on them. My relapse was not far away. I was coming to the end of an emotional relapse I’ve later learned, and I beginning to move into the mental stage of a relapse, prior to the actual drink. I begin imagining drinking again. How I could control it, set boundaries around it. Convincing myself that this time would be different. It really wasn’t as bad as I remember. Not being in any type of recovery I had no defense against my addiction.

“I turned 50 yesterday, I am 14 years sober, I’m Gay. Live the life you want, not one in fear.”

A few hours later, feeling great, I floated around in the ocean. A guy swam over to me and told me that he was staying in a giant house with a private chef, and he was hosting a big molly party at his house that evening and that I should come. He told me to come find him on the beach later to get the address. I just smiled. I got back to my chair and started thinking about the party. I had not done molly before let alone go to a molly sex party. I begun thinking that I could go to the party for the sex, but not the drugs. Then I considered what it would be like. I went looking for the guy. I didn’t find him. If I had found him, I believe I would have gone and done the molly that night. Instead, I hooked up with the Travel Agent that I had met earlier in the week. I received my first prostate massage, followed by sex. After I headed to the bars for a bit and then back to the hotel. I checked Grindr. There was the 2^nd message from The Singer. I didn’t respond and went to bed.

Day 5- The Singer

I woke up and headed to the beach again. A guy I had met the night before at the bars from Fort Lauderdale joined me on the beach for a bit. We made plans to meet up later in my room. The rest of the day on the beach was uneventful. I headed back to my room, went to dinner and then came back to my room and got ready. As I waited for Fort Lauderdale to show up, I scrolled through Grindr. There was another message from The Singer. Each message had been a simple hello handsome. He was quite simply the most beautiful man I had seen. His profile photos were all professional and showed him in various poses; from sipping a drink on the edge of a pool, laying in a bed partially wrapped in a towel and at the gym working out shirtless. Not typical Grindr photos and read like an escort. However, his screen name said, “Not an Escort. I decided to take a closer look at his profile as I waited. As I read his profile it had more details than an escort profile and thought maybe he was legitimate. I responded on the off chance he was real, and we began texting back and forth. He wanted to meet me, now, at the bars. I told him I couldn’t. I had one guy on the way, and I wasn’t entirely convinced The Singer was real. The Singer said he was going to bed, and we made plans to meet at Starbucks in the morning. Fort Lauderdale showed up and we had sex. He was beginning to get comfortable, like he was staying the next several hours. I informed him that was not the case, and I was done, and it was time for him to go as I was heading out for the night. As the door closed behind him, I messaged The Singer hoping he was awake. It was 1:00 am. He responded. We made plans to meet out on a street by one of the busy areas. I was still unsure if he was real or if I was walking into a set up of some sorts, so I figured a public place was good. I showered and headed out to meet him.

Coming out Facebook gay over a year ago, did change me, but didn’t solve my connection problem. It helped as a big chunk of the shame I carried was washed away. I could now be authentic about who I am. My relationships would be grounded in the truth or so I thought. Shame is insidious. It reinforced old beliefs I carried about myself. The feeling of being less than others. Not worthy. I had this whole other life I had lived prior to that moment and that is where the shame lived. How do I share my past? My exploits? So, I did what I did best and swept it under the rug. Decided that it didn’t exist and that I could process it internally. I couldn’t understand why I still felt the way I did about myself.

February 2023- Freedom

I wrote my first 5 blog posts in November and December of 2022. I hadn’t decided if I was going to publish them when I wrote them. I felt like I just needed to get part of my story out of me. I let a few people read them. It felt nice to have others say nice things about my writing, but what changed the most was inside of me. I was telling my story, who I was, and I was still liked. In January of 2023 at Scottsdale Providence Recovery Center, I had to write my entire life story in detail and read it to 40 other people, patients and therapists and then sit and receive feedback. My story was 22 pages and took me an hour and half to read. I shared things I’d never told anyone. Not just my actions, but my thoughts and feelings around my actions. I cried at the end. I felt seen and connected to the group. Regardless of whether I saw anyone from that room again in my life, 40 people knew me. I had stood in front of them and told my truth and I survived. Shame had no place to go, the dark corners within me were now open. I felt lighter and free. My burden was no longer my own. I was now honest about my past and began to learn the difference between guilt and shame. They are not the same, but I conflated the two.

A week after my 51^st birthday I launched my blog. I am writing my story to help myself. To own who I am and look at my behaviors, past and present and irradicate shame from my life. Sometimes I ask myself if I need to go to such an extreme or be so open and I know that it is shame telling me my life is not worth sharing. I lived 50 years in a double life, it’s all I knew. I didn’t know the reaction I would get when my story finally came out, but I didn’t worry about it. I would be okay regardless of the outcome. I couldn’t control anyone’s reaction. I feel better now on my worst days than I have on my best days in the past. I still feel disconnected from others, but not in the same way I did before.

July 2023-Who I Am

A friend asked me the other day how I can have so much random sex. What did I get out of it? I said, “a connection.” In the brief time I am with someone, I feel connected to them and the hope that maybe it will turn into more. Therein lies the problem I am realizing. I am putting an expectation on the outcome of each encounter, which is unrealistic. I am not going to find my soulmate off a Grindr hookup. I deleted all my dating and hookup accounts three weeks ago, for the first time in 4 years. I’m trying something new. Over the past several weeks I have heard from various sources, gay and straight, that if I want to attract quality men and a relationship it starts with me. If I am emotionally stable and solid in who I am I will attract the same. Right now, I seem to chase men more damaged than me and then wonder why they can’t give me what I need. I hope that if I can fix them then they can fix me. Not only do I use sex for a connection, but also to make me feel better about myself. To change the way, I feel when I feel less than or down on myself. When life is overwhelming, I need an escape. I know when I describe men I focus on their aesthetics, their outward appearance. A therapist the other day told me I have a collection of beautiful men and asked my why. What do I get out of it? It feeds my ego. Makes me feel better about myself and that I’m worthy. Unfortunately, the external validation I get from them is not sustainable. It makes the whole inside me grow bigger. In my black or white thinking, my tendency is to swing to the complete opposite and say that it doesn’t matter what someone looks like, that their positive attributes or characteristics are what’s most important. Then I find myself with a guy I’m not attracted to physically. I’m learning to find a balance. It okay to find men with qualities I’m looking for, both inside and out. They don’t have to be perfect on either count. However, I can’t expect something of someone else that I am not willing to be.  I hear in the rooms of AA often someone sharing that they have a life now that they could never have imagined and that if I stay sober and work the program, I too will have that. I believe them; however, I don’t have the experience to know if that is true for me. My life has been messy and that’s ok, because life is messy. That’s what makes me human. I know that in order to continue on this path to finding happiness, I need to be authentic and honest, and I have found freedom from shame by being vulnerable.