Untouchables Anonymous

Chairs
Originally uploaded by slaterspeed

This afternoon I arranged to get a massage. I tend to do this on a regular basis. At least one time a month. It has become my drug of choice. In between massages I drift through this world, untouched by human hands. I'm a touch junkie.



I'm thinking of starting a new support group. Untouchables Anonymous. We will gather is church basements, sit in folding chairs formed into a circle, and speak of our longing for skin on skin connection. There will be ground rules for the meetings. No touching of course. The purpose of these meetings will not be to find that touch, but to discuss our needs for it. We will share when we last had the touch we desired, and what was the significant event that put us in our predicament. We will discuss the ways we seek this intimate connection. We will try to describe what this touch does for us.



There are many reasons why people find themselves in physical isolation. I don't mean like some agoraphobic, who lacks touch due to never leaving their home, although if they can make it the meeting, they too are welcome. We come to this place for many reasons. It is not my place to try and figure out each person's reason for the lack of touch, only to learn from their stories.



I of course am a member of this group due to the death of my husband. He died September 13, 2009. That is my date of reference. It happened in the early morning of that new day. I had spent the prior night holding him, stroking his face, trying to soothe his difficult breathing. He could no longer communicate with me, but I could sense his acceptance of my sensual touch. Our skin had a history together. The coming together of his and mine was life giving. It created comfort and warmth. Our skin had a memory, and it could be found to instantly relax when joined in close proximity.



At times our skin had electricity. How does a substance change like that? Like the synapse within our nervous system, our skin could intensify our emotions. Where there was once pure gentle familiarity, at times became almost painful ecstasy. When Michael was near, the hair on my neck would stand on end. Each follicle would rise, and become a conductor for this heightened electricity. This process was like a fix, and I was powerless to it.



In my situation, I knew of Michael's impending death. So I suppose I could have cut started cutting down on the skin to skin contact. I could have planned out this intimate isolation, slowly weaning myself instead of going cold turkey. I wonder if there are withdrawal centers available where we to get that touch, then slowly decrease it until the lack of it does not create such a strong longing. We could learn to live without it, living a life of physical sobriety. For now, I will have to follow my risk reduction model, scoring a nice massage when I can scrape up the money.



Hi, my name is Dan, and I am one of the untouched.

Sharing Thoughts

three friends
Originally uploaded by m o d e

First off, let me wish all of you widowed, and not widowed, mothers a very happy Mother's Day. You have all been such shining examples of love and care for me, and I will embrace your nurturing qualities, and channel them when needed.

This weekend my youngest son had a friend from school come for a sleep over. While I have seen this other kid at the school, the boys had not connected or spent time outside of school together until recently. This other kid is also adopted, so I had a very nice visit with his mother when she dropped him off. We talked about a mutual friend in the neighborhood, and shared our experience with our adopted children. During our conversation I shared that my husband had passed away 7 months ago, and showed her his picture. She had some really nice things to say. Later in the conversation we were talking about our children's birth mothers, and I found myself sharing that the mother of my children had also passed away a few years ago. We had learned of her death just months before Michael was diagnosed. Traditionally I allow my kids to make Mother's Day cards or gifts for what ever woman they want to honor on this day. When they were younger this was more the practice, as they always made something at school. This year they are all a bit older, so there were no school gifts made.

My children have very complicated feelings about their birth mother, and all have settled in at different places. To keep it light this year I chose to not bring her up. Instead I sent of a bouquet of flowers to my mother, as she lives 500 miles away. We did drive up north for a picnic with Michael's mother. It has been raining on and off today, but the rain gave us a break for a few hours, so we had a beautiful sunny time for our picnic. I told her to just bring some drinks, and I would take care of the rest. I know that she loves roses, so I bought three rose bushes for her to add to her garden. Included with these gifts was a letter that I found on my computer that Michael had written his mother last year. I didn't know if he already gave it to her, so I printed it out, and secured it in an envelope. At the park I explained what it was, and told her to put it away for a time when she feels up to reading it. We had a very nice time together, and I am so happy that all the kids were with me to help her feel cared about for her day.

On to another topic. Yesterday another blogger posted a question on her Facebook. She often posts questions for us widow(er)s to discuss. I was so pleased to see her topic of choice yesterday. She was addressing the question to the men, and dads, who are now widowers, wondering in what ways we feel our grief process might be different than that of women. I wasn't able to get into the conversation right away, as I had guests all day, but eventually I was able to share my thoughts. Now prior to my entry there were both men and women sharing their thoughts on the topic, which seemed to be turning to the subject of how widowers are perceived by possible new dating interests. About twenty posts into the subject at hand, I added my thoughts. In my post I described my process of losing my husband. I then logged off to take care of some other things around the house. Today I see that after my post there are about twenty three more posts of people responding to each other's thoughts, and continuing their discussions. Now I don't know if I should be reading something into this, but not one person has chosen to respond to me.

As I have shared in the topics of my last few days, being an outsider of sorts, today as the gay outsider, I tend to be a bit sensitive to being treated differently. It's the ongoing concern that if I dare to enter into a discussion, or join a group of people who I think most resembles what I am going through, I risk the chance of being ignored or rejected. Now I tend to not worry about complete rejection from people within my own age group, as most of us in this age group have come to understand tolerance, and to respect differences. But it is when I feel like the response I get is a bit on the distant side, or that I am made to feel invisible, that I realize Imay need to look elsewhere. Again, I said this a few days ago, I accept that by now I can be a bit hyper sensitive to this type of situation. Most of the time I tell myself that it could happen to anyone, and not to read too much into it. Yet recently it is a theme that seems to be coming up more than usual.

I'm trying to decide how to respond to these feelings that are coming up for me. I don't want to see them as negative, and in response isolate myself. Instead I hope to use them as an opportunity to move forward, and to keep educating people on what my individual experience has been. This takes a delicate balance, as nobody wants to hear someone whine about being mistreated. At the same time I am here to write honestly about my experience so that others that come after me (no, not in the paranoid 'coming after me' way) will find a place where they can find support.

In any case, what it does bring to mind is that I have been so fortunate to have all of you reading, commenting, and dropping by for a quick visit. So many of you have shared your own sense of isolation, or being considered outside the box. I know that the whole gay issue is not the only identifying factor in making some of us feel different. There are many of them. It is just one that I have taken on as a focus to reach out to others who may be out there searching for support.

Thanks for listening.

Coupled

A Couple
Originally uploaded by An Gobán Saor

Today a cousin of mine was in town from southern California. He came by for a visit with his long term girlfriend. We visited here at the house, then went out for a bite to eat. It felt good to be out of the house on a weekend. I enjoyed interacting with the two of them, even though it was the first time doing so without Michael. They have been so good about visiting us over the years, as she has a daughter going to college up here.

After our late lunch, I left my kids with them, then raced across town for an appointment with a couple of new clients. This couple both work full time, and they have a very tight schedule during the week. Since I don't usually do anything on Saturday early evenings I agree to meet with them at 5pm. The purpose of my appointment was to begin talking to them about better ways to handle stress and anger at home. I needed them to understand how anger, especially from the father, is experienced by their daughters at home. I shared with them how I have found this to be challenging, as a way to let them know that we all need to be aware of how others experience us.

After addressing each of their individual issues, I began talking to them about how they, as a couple, need to better assist each other in keeping their anger, and responses to it, in check. I gave them some ideas of ways to soothe each other, rather than fuel the fire. In the course of this discussion I realized that I had boxed myself into a corner where I needed to divulge that I am no longer part of a two parent home. To keep it simple I just stated that while I am familiar with this dynamic, I now find myself as a single parent, which has it's own unique challenges.

In all, I felt very good about this late afternoon session. I drove away feeling good about our interaction, and had some really good responses from both of them. It was one of those moments where I give myself a pat on the back, and take notice of something I am good at. Of course, like many situations these days, I find that this one was quite bittersweet. With all the experience I have attain over the years as a social worker working with couples and families, I now find that I speak from a place of reference to the past. In discussing the dynamics of communication within a couple's relationship I will need to find a comfort zone that works for me. I don't want to lose my focus by constantly feeling reminded that I am no longer part of a couple. Yet this is something I cannot avoid. This is the work that I do. I am currently applying for a new job where I would be mediating custody agreements with couples going through divorce. I know that some people may worry that this line of work is going to be difficult for me emotionally. After all, I would be spending my days with couples who do not want to be together, and here I am grieving the loss of the husband I would give anything to have back.

I don't know for certain how this possible new job will play out, but I do know that I am feeling stronger right now. I think I am up for the challenge.

Odd Man Out

Odd man out
Originally uploaded by ImAfUzzyOne - Pond photos coming soon!

"I was made for you, and you were made for me."

From the discussion that came through the comments from last nights post, I was thinking about how amazing it was when I met Michael. Most of my adult life has been as a single person. I definitely dated here and there, but not many serious relationships. I often felt like it was difficult for me to meet the right person, because I was a bit outside the box as far as gay men go.

Growing up in my household as a kid, I really embraced the lifestyle that my parents had. They seemed very happy, loving each other, and raising a family of four boys. They both worked full time, and still managed to get my three brothers to their cub scouts and baseball practices, and me to my theatre rehearsals and music lessons. Yes, I was a glee kid. Last week was my parents 54th wedding anniversary. That is what I wanted. I wanted a long term relationship, filled with kids, and anniversaries.

When I met Michael I was driving a mini van filled with the kid's sports equipment and school supplies. It wasn't exactly a dude magnet. No, there was definitely nothing sexy about my ride. I used to tell friends that I felt like a gay man, living a straight life. Now that I am older, I see that there are many gay men living the life that I always wanted. They just were not in the clubs. Actually, Michael was.

When Michael and I met we were just two guys in a dance bar out for a good time. We hit it off right away that fateful evening. We could tell right away that there was a strong physical attraction. We danced, flirted, danced, kissed, dance drank, smiled and kissed some more.

The description of our meeting was actually not such a unique experience. Okay, maybe I don't usually make out in the bar after just meeting someone, but you get the idea. What was different about Michael, was that when we got to talking we realized we had both found someone of substance. For me, I had been in this situation many times over the years. The only difference was when a guy would start asking about going back to my place, or me going back to his, I would chime in with, "well, you see, I have three children at home that I need to get back to." You could start counting the minutes to the exit door from that point. I wasn't what most guys considered a catch. I was a complicated catch. Again, not exactly what most single guys think of as sexy.

When our first night of meeting was coming to an end, it was time to fess up that the car he was giving me a ride to was a mini van, because I had three children. As I said the words I expected the usually "wow, that's really cool of you. You must be some kind of saint." Followed by a quick exit. With Michael I got a big smile, and a story about what brought him back to living in the states after many years in Norway.

In the years prior to our meeting, Michael was married to another nice guy from Norway. At some point in their relationship he was feeling that it was no longer what he wanted. And, he was feeling the pull back to the Bay Area, as his mother had taken custody of his two nieces and nephew. Michael knew that she needed some added support, so he chose to leave Norway, and return home to help out his mother. Michael was a very involved uncle. His older brother had some issues over the years, and wasn't able to care for his kids. Michael stepped up to the plate, and showered them with lots of attention and guidance. As he shared this with me with both kind of smiled at each other. Here we were. Two single guys out at a dance club, drinking, dancing, laughing, flirting, and we both had three kids who depended on us. Could this be fate?

So by now I suppose many of you are humming the ever so familiar Brady Bunch tune. I know I was. And while Michael's crew didn't live with us, they were included in all of our kid trips and special occasions. We did all that we could to be a part of their lives. When we were married we exchanged blended family wedding vows where we committed to each other's children, and became one family. This was too good to be true. There we were. Two regular guys, with good jobs, family values, big hearts and lots of love for each other. Everyone who knew us were amazed that we had found each other. "How perfect is that?" we would often hear.

So here I was, a middle aged guy (but on the young side!) finding that 'dreams do come true', or that 'good things do come for those who wait.' I don't really believe in fate, and yet, I also find myself saying at times that there are no accidents. I don't really know what to believe. What I know is he was the one that I had waiting forty something years for. I found someone that fit.

Now I find myself back where I started. Actually, I'm not where I started, because my difference is now magnified.

Today a couple of other gay guys in the office were talking in the hall way. I stopped to join in on the conversation. Sort of a gay water cooler moment. They were talking about re-starting the monthly gay men's "meet after work for a drink night." They told me to check my email, and be sure to join them. They mentioned that I had never been to one of these nights, and that they would love for me to come. One even looked at me with tenderness, and told me that I really needed to do this for myself. I smiled and said sure, it sounds like fun. Later when I had a moment, I opened up my email to get the details of the event. I saw that it was going to be on a Tuesday late afternoon, around 5:30pm, at a martini bar down the street from the office. "Perfect." Oh, wait, that's when I pick up Remy from school, and then drive over to meet with Arianne and her therapist, then drive over to Ocean Beach to pick up Dante after his jiu jitsu class. Within a few minutes I found myself telling one of the guys that sorry, but I have obligations with the kids, and I won't be able to make it. It's funny, I have no idea what it is like to have the freedom to go from work to a nice piano bar and enjoy a refreshing drink with the guys. It's just not part of my reality.

Once again, I'm the odd man out.

Discouraged

voyage of discouragement
Originally uploaded by einsteinsmonster

I'm having a difficult time approaching my writing today. I have been thinking a lot today about why I started this blog.

Something occurred that really threw me, yet it shouldn't have surprised me.

When Michael's illness began making a turn for the worse I began searching online for further support. Being that he was suffering from a brain tumor, I wanted to find other men, or people who were in the same care giving role that I was in. I looked, and I looked, but this group of men could not be found. They didn't exist. What I did find was a Brain Tumor Caregivers online group that had many active members. So I entered into that community. I was a little hesitant at first because I don't always know where I will be welcomed. You see, the group turned out to be primarily women. And by primarily, I mean there were probably over one hundred women, and maybe three men. What made this difficult was that to receive support I needed to introduce the group to who I was, and who my spouse was. No big surprise here, I had to come out to them.

When joining the caregivers group, we were asked to wrote a small bio to let everyone know who we were, who our spouse was, and where they were along their brain tumor path. I received a lot of support and some wonderful correspondence, yet there were clearly many people in the group that didn't enter into conversation with me immediately. I think they needed time to see that my needs were really not much different than theirs. In time I came to value these women greatly, and I feel that they valued my support as well. At one point a new guy entered the group, and like myself, he was really looking for other men to talk to. He thanked the ladies in the group for their willingness to respond to his issues, but felt that there were some things he needed from another guy's perspective. He asked the few of us men if we were willing to have our own group for this type of interaction. I wrote to him to share that while I was initially looking for the same, I found that the women gave me a perspective I didn't always see. At the same time, I did offer to join a secondary group with him, but needed to remind him that I was gay, and that my spouse was not a woman. He was gracious, but by my not hearing from him again, I take it my relationship status did not meet his needs either.

The same can be said about why I am here. I realized that very few men were out here in cyberspace talking about their feelings, and reaching out for support. I found that there was absolutely nothing for gay men, other than a book published almost 20 years ago during the initial AIDS crisis. And while I have found some men through this blog, both gay and straight, it has become the women, once again, who are there to respond to my grief. And while I have come to love the women that reach out to me, I still feel a need to keep reaching out to my widowed brothers.

As a gay man I have been on the receiving end of discrimination and disparity. I have at times felt like an outsider when not with a group of other gay or lesbian people, or people that have known me for years. When I say discrimination, it doesn't always mean that it is done in an overt way. This can be done in very subtle ways, and often people don't even realize that they are doing it.

Michael and I were legally married. We had a wonderful, and expensive, wedding. We were dressed in tuxes, recited our vows to each other in front of a minister and 100 of our close friends and family. We had a beautiful wedding cake, had a first dance, and a mother-son dance. We then went on a very romantic honeymoon. I say all of this because most people who know us, or of us, know that this occurred. Yet rarely does someone ask about my "husband." I always share with people that I am a widower, and that it is my husband that died. Yet without skipping a beat, the other person often replies about my "partner." It's a small thing, yes, but it is also significant.

We you say that your husband died, people understand the depth of loss fairly well. When they are unwilling to accept that you had the same type of relationship that they have, and they feel a need to call it something else, it robs you of some of the grace and dignity afforded others.

The same goes with being out here as a man, searching for support, and putting forth my personal thoughts and feelings. I am always mindful of the fact that I am a man, interacting mostly with women. This is something I cherish very much. Yet when I go for support in other places I still look to see if who I am is reflected in who it is that says I am welcome. Maybe I'm not being clear enough. My thoughts are this, I truly appreciate it when all the women welcome me into their fold, yet if as a group they have not done enough to reflect that they are anticipating the needs of men, then I walk away feeling like a guest who is invited over for dinner, knowing very well that I am a vegetarian, and finding only meat on the menu. It is quite discouraging.

Dreamscapes

dreamscape 1
Originally uploaded by Studio Sublime

I don't know what it is, but I am really lacking in the creative energy flow tonight. I'm really tired, from a long day at work, then guitar lessons, Jiu Jitsu, dinner, laundry and bedtime and chore completion monitor.

Wow, just as I wrote the last sentence, my mind went to an alternate plane. Without any filter, I told myself to just go downstairs and lay down with Michael. My body was starting to anticipate his touch, then the chill of reality hit.

I feel like the wind just got knocked out of me. It was a rare moment of disconnect for me. In the early days this would happen often, but these days it doesn't seem to happen at all. It was as if the need, feeling, or response connected before my cognitive self became fully aware. And all of this in a matter of seconds.

It hurts.

I had a really nice lunch today with a couple of friends. I hate to say old friends, as it doesn't sound very nice to me right now. These are two friends I have had for 19 and 23 years. We have not had an opportunity to get together for a very long time. Today we ate outdoors at The Ramp, as fun outdoor restaurant along the bay. It's a casual, funky kind of place. I really loved being with them. I got to talk about all my plans, what my kids are all up to, and where I am with my grief. One of my friends talked about her mother's long term grief of losing her husband many years ago. She talked about her mother's desire for a full and happy life, but a life as a single woman. I used to know her mother and step father. They were a really happy and fun loving couple. I remember feeling a sense of shock when he died. It seemed to come out of nowhere, even though he had been sick for some time. At the time I didn't really expect him to die, or to think of my friend's mother as a widow. How strange to find myself here now.

Something that I was keenly aware of during our lunch, is that I truly enjoyed listening to my two female friends talk about their husbands. I have known their husbands for a long time as well, and thought to myself that they are both so lucky to have such a strong, and long lasting love. I didn't feel any resentment, or bitterness, from the exchange. I was really happy for them. They are both wonderful women, and it pleased me that they were blessed to find their perfect match.

Today is my parents' 54th wedding anniversary. I called them this evening to wish them well, and to see how their day went. As usual, my mother didn't feel very well today, as she is sick most of the time. And, as usual, my father went about his day, getting things done that needed to be done. I'm a lot like him. We have actually been in very similar roles these past couple of years, being the primary caregivers to our spouses. It doesn't matter how tired, or sick, you are, you still have all the above things to do.

Tonight I'm really missing the reward at the end of the day. Lately I have been sleeping with Michael's pillows pushed right up against me again, as I did in the early months after he died. I have needed to limit the large expanse of our bed, which has helped me to feel snug, and sleep well. Very early this morning I woke up feeling a bit startled. I had been dreaming, but couldn't remember what the dream was about. All I knew was that it had Michael's essence. I still have no recollection of it, and I don't even know if Michael was in the dream. It's like the dream had the feeling of him.

I'm not going to get too caught up into trying to make sense of it all. I'm just going to accept these fleeting moments for what they are. I'm just going to make note of them, experience them, then allow myself to move forward. They seem to add a new texture to my grief.

A Move In The Right Direction

detour
Originally uploaded by Shannon K

I have made my first step toward my relocation to San Diego. Yesterday I sent off the extensive application to the San Diego Superior Court for a position they currently have posted. This is the first time I have applied for a job in 23 years. Can you believe that? It was a very strange experience to be responding to all of these questions, and trying to sell someone on my skills and attributes. I plan on looking into others jobs in the area, as I don't want to put all my expectations on one possible job.

I have also looked into the schools that my kids would attend, where they have Jiu Jitsu classes, and where the nearest Guitar Center is located. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. I haven't even talked to a realtor about getting my house on the market yet. The kids are getting a little over anxious about the move, and are trying to pin me down to a specific date. I keep telling them I'm not in a hurry, but I want to get things moving. I need to find a job first. I also told them the plan is that we would definitely try to be out of here before the end of the summer.

I'm continuing to feel like this is definitely movement in the right direction. I'm feeling so optimistic about my immediate future. Suddenly at work I'm am being a bit more productive, likely because I feel as though I am finding my way of out it. Today we got word about the many cuts we are having to take in wages in order to prevent further layoffs. People are getting more and more anxious, and we are all becoming resentful about the big financial compromises we workers are being asked to take on. Today someone asked what I was going to opt for regarding having to pay for our own parking beginning in July. I quickly said I didn't plan to be here by then. A few people overheard my comment through the cubicles, and there was a quick round of laughter. After the laughter came to an end I said in a more serious tone that I seriously hoped to be out of there soon. People at the office are beginning to see just how serious I am about all of this. I'm beginning to feel very good about the idea of moving on, and I'm ready to push forward further.

My whole being is feeling lifted these days. I feel like I am beginning to experience my day to day life with a new sense of hope.