The shame I was never meant to own...

When I was 19, I came out to my family as bisexual. It did not go well; within a couple of weeks of making my "announcement", I was kicked out. But I had a girlfriend at the time, and she kept me fairly happy considering the circumstances. I started to envision a life with her, but to my surprise, I could not. Instead I was plagued with feelings of deep guilt and shame. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just love--and truly have sex with--a boy? Why did I have to be some sick pervert?

That internal dialog won--twice. I married two different guys in an attempt to be a proper, healthy straight person. In between those relationships I had girlfriends, including one DURING my first

marriage. I tried hard to deny the "ugly" truth: I was not bi, but in fact gay, and a damn miserable gay individual at that. I buried myself in denial, living a lie that, at least, protected me from the awful shame I felt every time I allowed myself to be real. 

Denial comes at a huge price though, and in the end offers very little in the way of true protection. I nearly lost "me" in my attempt to avoid feeling ashamed.

When I met the traveling companion I so often allude to, I tried to run away again. The shame I felt washed over me in a tidal wave that nearly drowned me. I did not want to feel the guilt that my "perverted" feelings induced. And then it hit me: I was never truly ashamed. Those hangups were not mine. They belonged to someone else. I only thought that was the way I felt because I'd been convinced of that. When I made that discovery, I ran right back to my companion. I realized she was a gift, someone to cherish and spend my life with. I could find no shame in that, but I would have been terribly guilty had I allowed such an incredible gift to go to waste.

My brother's incredible gift...

In less than a month, my brother will have been gone for a year. It's incredible, really, that he's been gone this long. At first, I lamented the fact that it was him that had to go. I told my mom it should have been me; after all, Matthew was in medical school, had touched more lives than I could count, and was a brilliant, loving individual. I could claim no such things. But then something happened: I realized life is not so much short (as people love to say) as it is fleeting. It's not guaranteed; it is here one minute and gone the next. We must make the absolute most of the life we have. We must have the courage to live the life that is meant for us. In losing Matthew, I became aware that not only was I living a life that was not my own, but that living that way was killing my spirit. Matthew, upon dying, gave me a truly amazing gift: the courage to get up and walk into the life that was meant for me. His gift was twofold--when I embraced the path that I was meant to walk, I found the traveling companion I had spent a lifetime searching for. I can never thank my brother enough for giving me both my life and the love of my life.