my skeleton in the confessional booth

For a long time, I have been meaning to write this blog entry... This one has been sitting in my draft folder the longest than all of my posts. So, here goes..

I am suicidal. Yup. Not many people know this. For quite some time, I have been less open and careful of what I say about my personal issues online. There is always that occassional cruel, beady-eyed bitch or bastard who would jump at the opportunity to grab other people's information for personal gain and satisfaction. I have had my share of those trash-talking people who read my blog and use it against me at home and on the professional field. I am prepared to deal with this here and now. Once it is out in the open, my personal information wouldn't hurt me anymore.

I've learned so much from various people in the past couple of years. I am thankful mostly to Frogotopia, along with VeeKoz, for being the most honest, observant and blunt friends I could ask for! :)

It's true, I am suicidal. But, from what some beady-eyed people think and claim that I spontaneously use "I am suicidal!" to manipulate people, they're wrong! I started thinking about hurting myself since I was about 8 or 9 years old. I was rarely happy. Don't get me wrong, please understand that I am not complaining in any way at all. I am saying this is as a matter of fact and how it was with me growing up as a child. There are so many reasons and causes to why I am suicidal. I've lost a lot of support from my Mormon church because they didn't like how "gay" I was or how angry I was with my parents and God.

Back to square one, I was molested by a male, Mormon, Native American Indian babysitter when I was 3 years old, of course, my parents didn't protect me when I needed it. That experience with the Indian started my infatuation with penises. Can you say, "Yay, Penis!"?!

By the time I became 8 years old, I realized what happened to me at 3 years old was sick and wrong. I remembered I tried telling my dad about it when I was 3 years old, but he dismissed me. When I started realizing this, I became unhappy, moody and withdrawn with my family, especially my parents.

At 14 years old and a Freshman in high school, my parents caught me masturbating in my bedroom. Yeah, I was beating off like a pesky lil' rabbit. My parents were so angry and hateful about it. They bible-thumped me in the face. I counter-attacked them with the fact I was molested and they did nothing to protect me. Mom was shocked and didn't know what to say. My dad yelled back that what I was saying was only bullshit created just to make them feel bad. Did I make this up? As a 3 year old kid, did I have the X-rated imagination to say I held and stroked a man's fat cock until he ran to the bathroom to ejaculate into the toilet? Of course, my parents didn't want to hear it or deal with this and said it was my problem to deal with. That's when I started hating God, His scriptures, and hating Him for giving me such ignorant, lazy, mean parents!

Every day and every night, it was a battle of emotional survival at home, being an angry, physical teenager who is Deaf and oral in a hearing family where everyone wouldn't bother communicating. I grew to be unhappy around them and frequently got impatient. They do not understand the joy I felt and how thrilled I was when I found out 2 family members learned some ASL. My sister took ASL in college and my brother married a wife who also knew some ASL. Those 2 sisters do try to sign whenever they can when I am around, but it's too bad they don't practice ASL anymore and their ASL skills are fading fast.

Because of the fights between me and my dad, and sometimes the anger and fights bleed out and affect the relationship between myself and my siblings, I was constantly told by my mother that I was a sick, evil, teenage boy who needs to see a shrink to get better. Ain't that the love, huh? Well, after I moved out, my parents' needling, belittling and nagging shifted from me to my younger sister. Boy, I did feel bad for her! Years and years later, I found out many more details and things about my siblings to learn we all are certified, total fuck-ups, parents included! At that point, I started to feel better and be less angry with my siblings. I don't know about mom and dad, but I do know my brothers, sisters, and I are trying our best to cope, recover and/or heal.

More than 15 years after I was molested, I learned from my mom that my dad bumped into that Indian Mormon at a local church building. I asked mom if dad had confronted the Indian for what he did to me. Mom gasped and said that she nor my dad would never approach that subject with the Indian. WTF?!

Due to being a Deaf student going through kindergarten to 12th grade in an oral school, I was constantly bullied and picked on by other classmates, of course, my parents didn't give a flying fuck how the kids treated me. Double-Fuck Valentine's Day. Why? It was a result from a cruel prank the 8th grade student body pulled on me. I knew they nominated and voted for me as a Valentine's King because my great uncle was the former Governor of Arizona. Right after I got the crown, the students laughed and sang "Recall! Recall! Recall the King!" Who forced me to go to the Valentine's Dance even though I knew what would happen? My parents, of course! Those experiences taught me to try to be a good friend on neutral terms, of course, that made me a social outcast and, as some people claim, a Devil's Advocate.

While I am a Mormon and believe in most of the gospel values, I'm forced to decide between Life and Death. If I choose Life, to live more peacefully as a Deaf gay man and leave the church, then I am committing a sin. If I choose Death, by killing myself so that I can stop being gay and make my parents happy, then I am still committing a sin. Which is the lesser sin?

With all the struggles I've went through, I've developed a serious, chronic form of depression, of course, I still have depression and I am trying to deal with it the best way I can. I know there's more to say, but I am trying to let this go. It's been easier to let things go now than in the past. Ever since I've decided to choose to live, I gained a good amount of peace and some happiness. I feel that I got the most important keypoints down. However, one thing you shouldn't assume, as though I was very angry and upset with my parents, I still love them very much. Things got a little better between us, but I think the problem was never, ever solved. My closest sibling, my sister, Alison, offered the idea to all of us that we go to Utah for a few sessions as a family with therapists, counselors and psychologists. Surprisingly, my mom agreed to it! I am waiting for the day that happens when we all dish it out on the table!

So, yes, I'm suicidal.. I've tried more than several times. I've overdosed once before. I've tried to take a knife to my wrist. My last attempt was back in between Summer and Fall of 2004. I still have those thoughts of hurting myself, but they aren't as strong or as bad as before. I've been trying to surround myself with positive, loving people. I've been going to exercising classes and fitness centers to help curb my bouts with depression. I've lost some weight and built a little muscle, and I feel great about it! Whenever someone says, "Philip is a fattie!", I just smile and remind myself what weight I used to be. And those words no longer have the power to hurt. I've been busy with constructive projects which has me busy as a crazy bumblebee. Whew, I am learning how to treat and love myself better, how to let go and move on. I've got someone who loves me regardless the flaws I have. I would say that my life is looking better and has more meaning. I still will always deal with my suicidal tendencies and my anger. I am still learning how to channel the anger for positive ways. I know many friends would be surprised if I was angry inside because I don't appear to be hot-tempered. See? That's proof I've learned to be better from other people's and my past mistakes!

So, to all the beady-eyed vultures who are reading this, you no longer have the power to hurt me. You need to get a life. And we all know that you lack real friends. Why? Because of the way you pick and obsess on the negatives, while you neglect and ignore the positives. Real friends never pick on the negatives. If they do, then that also makes them one of you, the beady-eyed vultures of the internet! Remember this sad truth, like real vultures, they just might turn on you one day soon when you slip up and make a mistake. You will immediately KNOW you are SO fucked with no one to help you!

And, to the Mormons, friend or foe, who are reading this and saying I am very wrong for typing the things above and explaining the choices I made, I have 2 words for you -

FUCK OFF.

You do not have the right to judge me, even if you're my parents, the Bishop, the Stake President or the Prophet. A Mormon did this to me. And my Mormon parents did nothing about it. I don't have to answer to you for the choices I make, and I believe I do not deserve your judgements and punishments, either! If you want blood for this, go ask my parents or, better yet, ask THAT Indian who stuffed his cock in my face! I will only answer to God, and God alone!