Clear Away the Wreckage

PUBLISHER'S LETTER

HELLO, MY NAME IS JOHN, and I have mental health issues. I sometimes have bouts of anxiety and depression, two of the most common types of mental illness. I also have alcoholism. I work on my issues in order to maintain a balanced life, as does everyone else in the world, whether they have a mental disorder or not. Balance takes work. It just takes more effort for those of us who have difficulty with control.

My origin story begins when I was very young, as it does for most. When I was roughly 8 years old, I had an attraction to a girl in my class, and her brother. I thought Kelly was a pretty girl and Billy was a pretty boy. I had no natural distinction for gender. To me, there was only attraction — physical attraction to both. I learned from the behavior of other boys not to show my attraction or affection to boys. To do so meant ridicule, beatings or worse — complete isolation.

I learned to conceal my feelings and monitor my behavior. It took effort. I thought a prolonged wayward glance or other clues might give me away. The internal struggle to stay hidden but be seen caused anxiety. It didn’t help that I was raised in the Roman Catholic church and attended Immaculate Conception Elementary then St. Francis Preparatory High School. The idea branded into my head that I would burn for eternity in hellfire if I was gay did not appeal to me.

As a boy, I had nightmares. My parents were concerned to the point they considered therapy. I rallied enough so they didn’t.

While other boys led carefree years of adolescent youth chasing girls, I desperately tried to look the part while not giving myself away to either gender — the girls I hit on or dated, and the guys I really wanted to. Eventually alcohol presented itself in the summer of my junior year as a social lubricant, and I took to it from my first taste. My first sip immediately led to my first gulp.

My drinking really took hold while I was in college at the University of Rochester in upstate New York. I managed to keep some semblance of control by limiting my drinking to weekends. I had a secret gay life on the side, and kept my university life and gay life separate. At times, I had to make up fake identities in my gay world to keep the two worlds from colliding.

Leading a secret double life added to my anxiety and depression. I did not enjoy keeping secrets from people I cared about. I felt I had no other choice. I had seen what happened to two classmates in high school when they were either discovered or suspected of being gay. One was a loner for four years. The other transferred months after the taunts began.

I completed my college degree with honors and was accepted into Howard University School of Law in Washington, DC. Maintaining schoolwork in law school was far more demanding than college. It was expected to work through the weekend to keep up. That conflicted with my secret gay life and drinking, of which I had no intention to give either up.

Eventually, I could no longer keep either secret. Roommates discovered I was gay after going through my things while I was away in Chicago. Two of them threatened to out me. The other two allowed the threats to happen. I did not give in to their extortion. They told an ex-girlfriend who took it badly. I in turn felt terrible for my part in this. One night, after heavy drinking I got in my car, a BMW 325i, and aimed it at a tree in the law school parking lot. The darkness saved my life. I hit an unseen parking block which caused my body to involuntarily react. I hit the brakes. Not fast enough as I hit the tree. The car was totaled but I survived with injuries.

After my body healed, I knew I had to come out to family and friends. My father asked me if I intentionally crashed the car. I said yes. He said, “Never allow anyone to make you feel like you are not good enough. We love you.”

I withdrew from law school to regroup. When I tried to return, I fell into a vicious cycle of starting a semester then withdrawing from every class only to repeat until I ran out of time. I became a law school dropout with significant student debt and no degree. My prospects looked dim.

I ended up working as a litigation paralegal then as a freelance writer before I became a magazine editor then publisher. All the while I had revolving door recovery for alcoholism.

In short, my recovery program did enough so I could course correct whenever I needed. I still have work to do. Recovery from alcoholism is a daily lifelong process to clear away the wreckage. Alcoholism is a mental, physical, and spiritual illness. I am grateful for my recovery. And I am grateful for the divine intervention of a parking block in the dark. I am now 54. I was 24 when it happened. I had such a fulfilling life these past 30 years, and the journey looks continually promising with each passing day. Those 30 years of a wonderful life would have been unlived had I successfully ended my journey by choice. My journey could end suddenly and prematurely if I do not continuously work on my mental health issues. I do the work because life is worth living. I deserve to live it well. I deserve to live as my true self.

john@sotomayormedia.com