For Those Who Have Considered Suicide...

This Thursday, October 20, is National Spirit Day, in which LGBT people and their allies show their support of youth by wearing purple, in remembrance of those LGBT youth who struggled so much and could find no release, and took the ultimate measure and committed suicide.

This, as you may imagine, is a very personal issue for me. Being a gay man, especially one who grew up in the South (and still lives there), it wasn't just hard. It was EXCRUCIATING.

Every time I read about a teen who killed themselves because of bullying, it breaks my heart over and over again. This is truly the most devastating thing a family could experience. The most devastating thing a parent, a sibling, could ever imagine.

I am no psychic, nor a psychologist, but I can imagine the anguish and agony that one feels after someone kills him/herself, and the constant wondering "did i miss it?" or "what could i have done to prevent it?"

What I'm about to write, I have only shared with a VERY select few. Literally, no more than a handful of people in the last twelve years.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was more depressed than I'd ever been, and never having really understood it up to that point, I, of course, thought that it would last forever. I did not have the foresight to believe that it would just go away eventually. That time would ease my pain, and that things would get SO MUCH BETTER.

People will tell you it doesn't always get better, and unfortunately, that can be true. Cause sometimes it does get better, then it gets worse, but guess what? it can also get better again.

This time in my life, as a sophomore in high school, I had a lot of acquaintances, but only a few TRUE, CLOSE friends.

I had said something (I forget what) that clued them in on my depression, and they understood it to mean that I was ready to harm myself. And they were right. I was ready to go home and do something drastic that I could never change afterward. I was ready to kill myself.

Was it due to bullying? Somewhat. More than anything, though, it was due to shame. My own shame. For who I was, for who I wasn't, and for who I never thought I could be.

At the time, my mother had me seeing a shrink, who was nice enough, but I just didn't think he could help. In fact, that day, I had an appointment, but I was planning on blowing it off and going home and doing the deed without telling anyone. I wasn't even sure if I was going to leave a note.

Thank all that is holy and sacred that I had two VERY TRUE FRIENDS who could see what was bothering me, and who'd told me they were gonna tell my mother exactly what I was planning, so if I even STILL went through with it, they knew I'd feel guilty for her knowing and not being able to stop it.

I hear about people who kill themselves, or plan to, who suddenly feel so calm once they've made the decision, both how to, and when to do it. I couldn't believe how calm I felt that day. I was truly prepared to end everything, and nothing else could bother me. Not even when people called me fag in the hallway, or told me they were gonna beat me up because I looked at them in a "gay way."

But something...strange...happened. Something...miraculous. This calm I felt? I could see through it and realize that despite everything I'd been feeling for months, I could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. And that light is what guided me through the rest of the day, and ever since then, the whole of my life.

I'm not saying this light was God, or anything such as that. I DON'T KNOW what it was. Maybe it was the look on my friends' Michael and Michelle's faces that day as I walked toward my mother's car to go to my appointment, but right then and there, I decided not to go through with it.

Suicide is the easy way out. There is no other way to say it. I know it sounds harsh for those who have committed suicide, and I do not mean it as such. But it's the truth. Life is hard. Life is REALLY FUCKING HARD. Those who live it, and continue to live it, and try to make it better, those are the people I admire. Those who end it early? Those are the ones I feel for. Not pity. Those are the ones I empathize with.

A lot of people say they understand, or they may "know" how someone feels when they want to commit suicide. I don't believe anyone truly understands, or knows, how another may feel, unless they've been in those shoes. So when I tell you I know, or I understand, believe me, I DO.

Reading this week about Jamie Hubley, in Canada, and last month, about Jamey Rodemeyer, both of whom killed themselves due to bullying and depression, and both of whom who had posted their troubles online in videos, and tried to beat them, but failed, really made me thing back to that fateful day in sophomore year.

I can't, for the life of me, ever show my ETERNAL GRATITUDE to those two friends, Michael Mohler, and Michelle Moreno (Avila). Thank you, so much, for seeing in me what I couldn't, and believing in me.

These days, I'm a college graduate, with dreams of making it big in New York. I've found, throughout the years, full of both depression and elation, that having a goal is what truly makes a difference, for me. That, and role models, both old and young, who have shown me that I can not only see that IT GETS BETTER, but also that I can MAKE IT BETTER MYSELF.

A special thanks goes out to those who have made IT GETS BETTER videos, and promises, but I would like to specifically site a few...

Zachary Quinto, who just this weekend, revealed that he was gay, had a very powerful video...



Matt Doyle, a favorite of mine, and a true inspiration, every single day...



Chris Colfer...who, if you've read any of my blog before, you know how much I admire and adore...



And because I mentioned him earlier, and it is important to see that even the strongest of us can face such unseen obstacles of pain and torment, Jamey Rodemeyer...







PLEASE, if you are thinking of hurting yourself, please DON'T. Please, for the love of humanity, God, and all that is good in this world (because there is STILL PLENTY OF GOOD), call the trevor Project.

1-866-4U TREVOR


I promise you, it's worth it. I'm not longer considered a GLBT youth, but I've called the number before, just a few short years ago. They can help you. They can guide you. They can show you IT GETS BETTER.

Please...we've lost too many young people who could have made such a difference in this world.

And, please, don't ever forget those we have lost...

Billy Lucas, 15
Seth Walsh, 13
Tyler Clementi, 16
Jamey Rodemeyer, 14
Jamie Hubley, 15
Aiyisha Hassan, 19
Asher Brown, 13
Justin Aaberg, 15
Raymond Chase, 19
Cody J. Barker, 17
Zachary Harrington, 19
Lance Lundsten, 18

A list too long already, but not even close to everyone who should be honored...

Please, wear purple on Thursday, October 20, and don't just wait for people to ask...tell them why...

PRIDE, PART II

please watch this first...




Today is October 11. This day is very important to me for a couple of reasons. First, is known, in the LGBT community, as National Coming Out Day. It is the day we have decided to embrace everyone in our community, and make our voices heard, our presence known, and our hearts open. Why October 11? It is the anniversary of the March On Washington for Gay Rights, on Oct. 11, 1987, where almost a million people marched on the Washington Mall for recognition of gay rights, including marriage, military service, and other issues.

Well, it's been 24 years, and we've done...okay, so far. Marriage is legal in six states now, including my dream home of New York City, and if I so chose, tomorrow I could go to a recruiting office, sign up, and serve my country.

This is important to me because I recognize that there is no ONE person who can make a difference...not without a ton of help. We are called a COMMUNITY because we share common things. Traits, sure. Politics? Sometimes. Desires? Well...not always. And goals? Depends on who you ask.

So what is that we share? An identity? Not necessarily that, either. Plenty of people who are attracted to the same sex don't call themselves gay, lesbian, or what have you, and that is perfectly within their right.

What most people don't understand about labels is that it is not what OTHERS call me in how I define myself. It is what I CALL MYSELF.

And what I CALL MYSELF is not just gay, not just an actor, or a writer, or a lover of musicals, or GLEE.

I CALL MYSELF...MICHAEL.

That is my name, and I like my name. In fact, I have the greatest name in the world. Besides being the most popular name in America for a VERY long time (I believe I read somewhere it was 45 years running at one point...), it means, in Hebrew, "He Who Is Like God."

Yeah, I know. Ego trip, right?

But more than that, it is the name I was given by the people who brought me into this world.

I also have a middle name. Roy. I don't always tell people my middle name, not because I'm embarrassed, but because it's kind of hard to talk about sometimes. My middle name is from my paternal grandfather, Roy Wayne Stratton, who died long before I was born. I never met him. I wish I had. I've heard stories over the years, stories which have made me proud, but I really wish I'd gotten a chance to meet him and get to know him myself.

So, there's that.



But...I said this day is important for a couple of reasons. It is the second reason which touches me deeper, and more emotionally, than anything ever has, or ever will. My last post was about 9/11, and how that affected me, and that is still such a great tragedy, and I would never poke fun or make light of it.

But to me, personally, the greater tragedy than thousands of lives taken...is the one taken, targeted, by hate.

I am referring to Matthew Shepard, the gay University of Wyoming student who was beaten, tied to a fence, and left for dead. He never woke from his coma, and he died in the early morning hours of October 11, 1998.

I was not even 16 yet, a Sophomore in high school, not much younger than Matt himself. And certainly not completely out. Only a handful of people knew, including my best (and oldest) friend, a couple other schoolmates (not exactly friends, anymore, anyway), and my parents, who knew in their hearts, even though they'd had the decency to go along with my "God told me not to be gay, so I'm not" phase. (Thanks, mom and dad, btw...)

I remember reading the paper (as I did every morning. I'm STILL a news junkie...) about how he'd been found, never regained conciousness, and how his mother and father stayed by his bedside every moment till after he was gone. I thought, if I could do ONE THING, other than going back in time and making it never happen, it would be to reach out to Matthew's mother, and give her the biggest hug I could muster.

Alas, I was unable to.

This haunted me for weeks, until finally, I broke down, and I confessed, again, to my parents, the truth. That I was gay, and there was nothing that could change it. I was pretty surly, if I remember correctly, and I'm pretty sure my attitude was something like "if you don't like it, then fuck you."

Fortunately, my parents were (and ARE) totally awesome, and they told me they loved me. And THIS TIME, I didn't take it back. ;O

Five years later, I'm a sophomore in college. I'm a theatre major, and I have the brilliant fortune to be cast in a production of The Laramie Project, a play that was written directly in response to Matthew's murder, and which to this day, evokes a gut wrenching sob every time I read it or think too hard and long about it.

I couldn't believe my luck. I wanted to tell this story more than anything, especially in the face of protesters with their disgusting signs of GOD HATES FAGS and MATT IN HELL and THANK GOD FOR AIDS.

Oh, what I wouldn't have given to knock some sense into those bastards...

Luckily, my brethren at Bruce Hall did it for me, all without violence, and with quite a bit of humor and charm.

But the best was yet to come.

A mere week after we finished our production, there was a very special guest speaker on campus. A woman by the name of Judy Shepard. Matthew's mother, who still travels to tell her story, and to fight homophobia all over the country.

After her speech, the audience (of which our entire cast had been invited to), was asked for questions. Being me, I sprang up out of my seat, and had the honor of asking the first question. After thanking her for taking the time to come to our little campus, I asked her what she thought her son would think of the protesters, and how he would react to them. I also asked what she would want to tell him if he were alive, and what she thought he would want to tell us.

She seemed to smile (as best as I could tell. I was at least thirty yards away while she was onstage).

She told me she'd tell him she loved him, and that he would probably ignore the protesters, or make a joke, and go about his business, because he was a peaceful person.

I was happy enough to be in the same room with this incredible woman, nevertheless get an answer from a question I had asked.

But the best was yet to come.

Thanks to a dear friend of mine (David Warner, I'm talking about you!) our cast was invited to lunch with Judy, through the campus group GLAD (Gay and Lesbian Association of Denton).

It is there I met her in person, shook her hand, told her how inspiring she was, and I finally, after five years, got to do what I'd promised I would. I gave her the biggest hug I could muster.

Tears were in my eyes, and I don't know if she cried, too, but she seemed grateful, and for that, so am I.

I left that lunch that day with a renewed sense of purpose, and a renewed energy towards fighting for equality, and fighting for what I believe in.


October 11 is a very special day in my life, and I will always remember what it means to me, and to others.



Thank you, Matthew.

Thank you, Judy Shepard.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.

And thank you to all the people out there who have fought for equality.

And to all those who struggle with their identity, and struggle to be who they are, and more than anything, to be honest with themselves, and their loved ones...IT GETS BETTER.

It might suck now. It might suck for a while. BUT IT GETS BETTER.

YOU. ARE. LOVED.

GOD LOVES YOU, AND GOD BLESSES YOU.

Revenge of the Nerds, part I

http://gizmodo.com/5813207/teen-builds-nuke-detecting-device-saves-us-all-from-horrible-death



Ahem. Let me just say...wow. This kid is going places. And good for him.

In my experience, too much emphasis has been placed on athletics. (That's what you get for living in Texas).

I am overjoyed to see such a young person not only take an interest in science, but to excel in it. I mean, seriously, could any of US ever have imagined inventing such a device when we were that age? I doubt it.

Look, I've got a great imagination, and I think up things all the time. But I am the first to admit that I lack the superior intellect to create a transporter a la Star Trek, or even a frikking light saber. But damned if this kid not only thought it up, but went and built the damn thing.

So, Mr. Taylor Wilson, I applaud you and your ingenuity and perseverance, and your intellect. Never let anyone tell you that you can't do anything. Because this goes to show you can, and you must. BRAVO, Sir.