I Remember Becoming ME.

I remember a time when I was 100% fully accepted by everyone around me. I grew up in the most amazing family that anyone could have asked for. We were different from those around us. My dad (a non-member of the LDS faith) and my mom (mostly an inactive-member for a while in my life) still somehow managed to raise 3 decent children. Though I came from a part-member family I was never seen as different in the times I would go to church… except for the eternal family lessons and when I was a missionary with a few companions who would so kindly remind me that my family wasn’t eternal. But besides that my family was perfectly accepted.

I remember going throughout my childhood education with some of the greatest friends for periods of time. I wasn’t a part of any specific clique or group because I had friends in all of them. I idolized my older sister and the way people knew of her. I drove the best car at
school (89 Volvo, ha!). And I did the most random fun things. I dated some of the best looking girls in the school, from those who danced to those who played sports.

I remember when I first went to college with one of my best friends. Meeting completely new people who accepted me into their friendships and whom I loved. I made some of the best friends I will ever have in the freezing, bustling metropolis of Ephraim, UT. I fit in just fine and loved every second of it.

I remember when I decided that I was going to do the thing I had been taught and prepared to do my whole life. I was going to be a good little missionary. I got everything ready for it and went to the most amazing places on Earth to meet some of the best people there. Everything I had was taken from me the first few months I was there. But I put on a front because I was doing what I had told to do. It would all work out. After I had absolutely nothing left in me, praying
daily to get hurt and be sent home, hardly a desire to even live, I got a new companion who had to start me over and build up from scratch. I’m grateful he did. I loved spending time with the people of Jamaica and learning their culture. I was completely focused and had only them in mind. Then I went to Bahamas and the same thing happened there, instantly loving the people I had come to meet. I learned to speak Haitian-Creole in a few weeks, being able to teach those who didn’t speak English. Knowing I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do I was told to stop and spend my time with those who spoke English and not waste time with Haitians. My heart was again torn apart and hurt as I saw people who were deemed less worthy to hear the gospel, the same one that kept me ‘on track’. I wasn’t about to just not teach them; so I did anyway, against the wishes of my leaders. I was yelled at and judged, but I didn’t care.

I remember coming home and knowing the next step of my life was to find a wife, have a job, have kids, and keep the faith, all the things that I had been taught my whole life. I had a best friend of 3 years who was out on her mission, doing the things she should be doing. I knew everyone expected us to get married, even I did. I knew it is what I was supposed to do, I had been told it over and over, whether directly or indirectly. She came home from her mission and we both knew it was expected of us to get married, so we followed suit and were engaged during Peach Days, the perfect life story continued.

I remember getting ready for my marriage and knowing this is what I had been told by leaders I had to do. I knew my family was happy and loved her as one of their own. She was best friends with my sisters and with my mom. I was sure they would always be happy with me marrying her. A few weeks before we were married, I didn’t want to do it anymore and I wanted out. I didn’t want to continue in doing what everyone expected or what they had told me to do. Instead, I listened to a yelling father telling me that I was marrying his daughter not for me, but for her. That it is her happiness that I should worry about, and I did. I followed his counsel and I married my best friend in December 2011.

I remember knowing that I had been fortunate enough to have a great family by my side at my wedding and throughout my marriage. They were constantly there to help as I was going through school and even letting us rent a room from them as I moved to go to work. I knew I
was doing exactly what was expected of me. I was on the ‘right track’. Yeah we had our ups and downs, but isn’t that how all marriages are supposed to go?

I remember realizing that my wife wasn’t the same person I knew when I was in college; she had changed a lot from her mission in good ways and bad. I had done the exact same. I lost a lot of things I had and gained other things I never had. I began working part time, and then moved to fulltime. I then added another full time night job onto that one. I was home for maybe four hours in between each job. I was beginning to realize that all the things I had been told I should do and that I needed to do, I didn’t want to do for me but I wanted to do them for others.

I remember the sickness I felt knowing I was leaving my wife. I knew it would be better for her and better for me. But I hadn’t done things for me often. What would my family think? What would society think? How am I going to tell her that the 9 months we were married were the hardest of my life? How will anyone understand it? There were thousands of questions running through my head.

I remember one of the best people who has ever come into my life finally having the guts to ask me what was wrong with my marriage. Telling me that there was something wrong, though I was putting up a front to make people, once again, believe I was happy. My brother-in-law knew it wasn’t going to work just like he knew his first marriage wasn’t. Talking with him was the first time I 100% knew I was not going to be able to make this work. I wasn’t going to be able to live the life I had been taught to do.

I remember telling my mom, with tears falling down her face asking if I was sure I wasn’t going to be able to make it work. She loved my wife, probably more than I ever could. She immediately opened her doors to her to let her in until she could make it on her own, providing everything for her. My mother is the biggest saint I have ever known. Yeah she has a few faults, but we all do and she more than compensates for them with the way she cares for others.

I remember watching my wife leave the house for the last time and almost feeling guilty for my sense of relief. It was the first time I had truly felt peace in years. Yeah, I had been happy at times but anyone can go through bits of happiness. Peace comes from finally accepting yourself. See, I had been accepted by everyone around me my whole childhood. I had the greatest family, I had the greatest friends. But all of those around me, accepting me for who I was to them, could not make me accept me for who I truly was to myself.

I remember a father-in-law threatening to let people know the reason why I was leaving my wife like it was something as horrible as abuse or much worse things than the truth. The truth was that I wanted for her to be happy and for myself to finally be happy in my life. The same man who had called to tell me I needed to marry his daughter for her own happiness was angry that I would have ever considered marrying her.

I remember finally being able to look at myself and realize that I am me; those who may not like it can deal with that themselves, I hadn’t liked myself for many years trying to be exactly what they wanted me to be. Now it was there turn and my turn to be happy. My turn to love me for who I was. And as for those who wanted to do the same and get to know the real me, more power to them.

I remember the utmost love and respect that I gained from those who really mattered to me. I came to find out who I really wanted in my life and who the people were who I truly loved. I realized that more people knew the real me even more than I knew me. I had been living a lie for so long that even I believed it myself.

I remember moving to Logan to meet someone who would all too soon become one of my very best friends, even against my wishes. I don’t know where I would be even now without his constant judgment, ridicule, and sarcasm, of which I give more in return. I can see the huge change in my happiness and my full acceptance in who I am and I owe it all to those who are still around me.

I remember the times when I was doing what I was taught I was supposed to do. I remember being compliant to the teachings and the guidelines of the society I live. I remember hoping I could change to be what I was told to be, to love the people I was supposed to love, to live the life I was expected to live. But now, I remember becoming me, being the man I have always truly been. I remember each day how I am truly happy with my life because it is mine, not someone else’s. I am living it the way I am meant to, maybe not the way others perceive I am supposed to. I will always remember that I am me. I will always remember the people who have supported me for being me. And I, I will always remember how important it is to be truly happy with who I am, not with who others would like me to be.