Reframing Reality by Gillian

Many things can force us to reframe our reality; death of a
loved one, divorce, health problems, loss of a job or change in career,
relocating our home, addictions and substance abuse. The list goes on and on.
And the reasons don’t have to be negative. Winning the lottery could certainly
reframe reality, as could falling madly in love or escaping from
addictions and substance abuse.
But the extent to which you allow your reality to change when
such things happen, I believe, depends very much on how secure you are with
your own reality, and your place in it. Possibly I am being hopelessly naive,
but I really think I could find myself the lucky recipient of, say, fifty
million bucks, without it changing me very much. I think I could face health
problems, or being forced, for whatever reason, to live in some other State or
even country, and survive it without allowing my reality to morph to too great
an extent. Of course I’m kinda sticking my neck out here, inviting all of you to
judge me eagerly when one of these happenings does befall me. But at least my
own reaction to these things is something that is within my control, though
whether I do in fact master it may be another matter.
What I have little, if any, control of, is how something
which happens to me, ends up reframing another person’s, or many other people’s, realities around me. When I win
that fifty million, you know it changes me in other people’s realities. The same happens if,
say, I am diagnosed with a terminal illness and given six weeks to live. Does
that cause others to reframe me in their realities? You bet it does.
One of the strongest effectors of reality change in a person
and in those around them is probably addiction and substance abuse, whichever
direction those nightmares are moving. If we fall under the influence of an
addiction, it certainly changes our vision, our very sense, of reality. All
else becomes less and less real; the only thing real to us is that addiction.
Likewise, it is all others see of us. Our entire reality, to our families and
friends, is taken over by the addiction. If we continue, our frame of reality
both to ourselves and others, is the addiction.
Ah, but we have made the miracle happen. We are recovering
from substance abuse. So all will be well, will it not? We don’t fool ourselves. How many
relationships have we seen disintegrate well into the recovery stage? All those
friends, family members, perhaps partners, who had been been accompanying us
happily down Addiction Road no longer find us fun. We no longer share that
costly habit; that dark secret. As we fade in their realities to mere echoes of
our former selves, we are dealing, ourselves, with the formation of very new
realities. We are mere echoes of our former selves to ourselves, also, and must
begin the challenge of creating for ourselves a completely new reality which
maybe we have never known, or at least forgotten.
Well we can’t let this topic go without at least dipping our toes into
the Coming Out Ocean, can we? When I first came out, just to myself, I felt a
huge shift in reality. Or more, it seemed that my previous reality had simply
disintegrated, pffff, in an unimpressive little puff of steam like some things
do on the computer when you press delete. I had no concept of what my new
reality looked like. I was an explorer alone in a newly discovered land: a
time-traveller.
It took coming out to others to begin to frame this new
reality, and for those others to reframe their own, with the new me in it. But
as we stumbled along together, my family, friends, and I, we /found that, at
least superficially, not so much reframing was required after all. I was still
the same person. Little had really changed.
Oh but it had.
Oprah Winfrey has spiritual gurus on her TV channel on
Sundays, part of a series she terms Super Soul Sundays. Watching one of these
one morning I heard an expression that summed up the state of my soul to
perfection. Oprah, or her guest whose name I don’t even recall, used the phrase homesickness
of the soul.
“Yes, oh yes, that is it exactly!”  I wanted to yell and dance and shout for joy. Yes, that is
it.
Before I came out to myself with true, complete,
unquestioning acceptance of who I was, my soul was terribly, agonizingly
homesick. Now it am home. My soul and I came home. We are where we
live; where we must be. What we were born to be.
That is what now frames my reality, and no matter what
happens it will never change.
Perhaps that is why I dare to think, in a way that maybe
seems rather smug, that my reality will not falter in the unlikely event of
suddenly having undreamed of wealth, or, sadly somewhat higher odds, being
diagnosed with terminal cancer.
The only really important reality is my soul, and it has come
home.
©
June 2014
 
About the Author  
 I
was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to
the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the
Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised
four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting
myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25
years.

Reframing Reality by Pat Gourley

“There’s a quality of exultation in our differences. 
We just have it and
its part of our nature. 

There is a kind of flagrant joy that goes very deep and 
it’s not available to most people. 
Something about our capacity to live and let
live

 is uniquely foreign.

Paul Monette

Quoted in David Nimmons’ The Soul Beneath the Skin

Reframing reality seems to be the heart and soul of being queer. In fact we could as easily substitute “I am reframing reality” for “I am coming out”. If we don’t create our own queer reality we often live very unhappy and sometimes tragic lives. This reality-reframing can be perilous and the odds stacked against us are formidable which may in part explain our rather inordinate amount of suicide, the use of mind-altering drugs, tobacco and alcohol or our preoccupation with Broadway musicals, opera, show tunes and/or women’s basketball and golf.

My own early coming to queerness in my late teens in rural Illinois while attending a Catholic prep school involved seeking out one of the male high school counselors, there were several, for “guidance” around my budding sense of difference. ‘Gay’ was not a common word in the vernacular at that time, certainly not in Catholic High Schools in Illinois, but I was possessed with the thought that maybe I was a homosexual.

Looking back with a bit of honest hindsight I sought out this particular counselor not because I wanted to be re-assured that I was really as straight as the next guy but rather because I was drawn to his masculine looks, demeanor, large hands and the intoxicating smell of his aftershave, it was Old Spice, which can to this day still conjure up an olfactory hallucinatory hard-on. I really wanted to just have “flagrant sex” with him!

That of course did happen and after that first encounter which was essentially a mutual masturbation session resulting in an orgasm that was so intense I am sure I saw Jesus winking down at me from the crucifix on the wall over our heads. I was then able to leave town the next day for Mound Bayou, Mississippi in a state of “flagrant joy”.

One of several things plaguing my adolescent mind in those years was why I was not experiencing the same excitement and obvious obsession in exploring relations with girls that my male peers were. What was wrong with me? Was my life to be a series of very unsatisfactory experiences with the opposite sex ending in a joyless marriage perhaps further complicated with offspring? Remember this was 1967 and there was no local LGBT Center in town to provide guidance.

Well that first orgasmic encounter with my counselor in one burst of “flagrant joy” totally reframed my reality. Life was not going to be a joyless, sexless drudgery after all.

I did have another lapse into self-doubt about my newfound queer reality a couple years later at college when I again sought out counseling to address the ‘homosexual issue’. This probably followed a couple of frustrating experiences with other men – I mean reframing reality is not all endless flagrant joy. This counselor was also male but not someone I found attractive physically and we ended our therapeutic relationship after the second session when he insisted that I start with incorporating more masculine behaviors into my life including ending our time together with a manly handshake. I guess the logic was if you wanted to be a man for Christ-sakes act like one – now that is a futile attempt at reframing reality if there ever was one.

It was shortly after the sessions on manly behavior that the opportunity for heterosexual sex presented itself. Perhaps it was simply a reflection of the power of the all-pervasive and suffocating reality of the heterosexual dictatorship or more likely my own well-honed neurosis but I made one more very short stab at the straight male thing and had sex twice with one of the woman in our circle of friends. Despite my obnoxious sexual performances this very strong woman was in many other ways very influential in my life and my own development of a feminist sensibility. She went on to have a great life and family obviously unscarred by my sexual ineptitude. She was very sweet and patient but in the end honestly told me that I was really bad at sex. Both times involved trying to perform with my eyes being tightly closed, relying on her guiding hand to find the entrance and thinking the whole time this is so wrong and unnatural to boot! I won’t even get into how it felt to me physically and that when my orgasm did actually occur it involved a very intense, albeit transient, reframing of reality.

The sexual part of my queer reframing of reality has been only one small part of my life however. My innate sense of difference I really do think has freed me up to reframe all sorts of realities. Realities foisted upon me by the politicians, priests, pundits and really society in general. The great life adventure that is being queer is all about reframing reality and you know it really never ends. When the world attempts to lay their realities on to us though we can always wiggle free because we have the great gift of “flagrant joy that goes very deep and is not available to them ” (Paul Monette).

© June 2014

About the Author 


I was born in La Porte Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

Reframing Reality by Ricky

Perhaps a better term would be Remaking Reality. I am sure most of us have at one time or another wished we could make changes in the actual reality we exist in or that surrounds us all. For example, changes that would allow all people to age but whose bodies would not show age or become infirm; diseases would not exist; no one would seek to harm anyone else; everyone would live peaceably; and everyone would practice good manners with common courtesy towards all. These seem to be examples of reframing or remaking reality that would be good, nice, and pleasant to have surrounding us. You could think of other changes that also would appear to be beneficial. Society could certainly gain much from such a remaking. But, what would society or more specifically, individual people lose with the changes?

At 12 years old, I remade my reality by mentality deciding that like Peter Pan, I did not want to “grow up.” To a very large degree, my subconscious made that happen mentality but could not stop the biological progression from boy to man. With some outside influences, I have lived within that reality my whole life from 12 forward. While my life’s “journey” has had great swings in stress levels and peacefulness, I have maintained a childlike personality that is able to see humor in the darkest of events and make jokes amid tragedy. I can even see the positive in negative events, sometimes even as the events are occurring.

Consequently, I can appreciate good health because I’ve experienced illness. I can appreciate the routine and proper operation of my body’s parts because I’ve experienced pain. I can appreciate and bask in love because I’ve experienced the lack of love and seen hate. I can appreciate life because I’ve seen and experienced the death of others. I can enjoy and appreciate good music because I’ve heard noise and screaming lyrics posing as music. I can enjoy family and friends because I’ve been alone. I am grateful for my finances because I’ve been poor. I appreciate my education because I’ve seen and experienced ignorance in myself and others. I can appreciate even modest food because I’ve seen starvation. I can work for peace because I’ve seen the results of war. I can be as generous as I can because I’ve seen greed destroy. I can be drug and alcohol free because I’ve grown up with alcoholics and seen the results of drug use. I can obey traffic laws because I’ve been to too many accidents where men, women, and children died. I know joy and happiness because I’ve suffered depression and sorrow. I can face life’s challenges because I’ve developed the inner strength and resourcefulness needed to overcome the challenges.

What one LOSES by remaking reality into what appears to be a happy, peaceful, bucolic existence is an appreciation of WHY such an existence IS happy, peaceful, bucolic, and desirable in the first place. The “silver lining” in the cloud of a “hard-knock-life” is, knowing exactly what happiness, joyfulness, peacefulness, goodness, and love really feel like when one encounters them. In other words, without the negatives for comparison, there can be no positives.

From a religious point of view, Adam and Eve HAD to eat that “apple” or they would not have known the difference between obedience and disobedience but would have remained in ignorance for as long as they lived. That one act introduced the negatives into Earth life and we have all been blessed as the result.

Homophobic ignoramuses don’t need to have their reality reframed or remade. All they need is an attitude adjustment by a swift kick in the pants—preferably by their fathers and a dose of castor oil from their mothers. That should do the trick. Maybe we can get the governor to arrange for “film at 11” reporting on the event.

© 18 June 2014

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com