Ponderings - Sep 25 2025
Just pondering my relationship with my spirituality.
I went through hell when I was young. To sum it up: Sex was used to hurt me. That harm veered me off course into a life filled with years of unemployment, loneliness, and intense therapy trying to move on from what had been done to me over and over again. When I opened up about it, my entire community abandoned me and treated me like I was the one who did it, which was its own course of therapy and shit to deal with too. It all started when I was 15 and culminated in 2022, when I was almost kidnapped in Florida after being roofied, drugged with Meth, and gang raped. I feel like I’m finally starting to move past it now, at the age of 24. But I’m sure it will be life long.
A question I don’t tend to ask myself is, if the catholic God exists, why he would let me go through all of that. That Molestation. Abuse. Pedophilia.
But I sat down and asked myself the question today. And the thing is, is that I immediately knew the answer.
If fate is any way a part of this all: I think that sex was introduced as something destructive so that I could see its potential for power over the human experience. My human experience, at least. The sexual harm done to me shaped every aspect of how I saw others, the world, and myself for years to come. My painful sexual experiences led me to a painful life. But in thinking about that, I quickly came to the insight that, if that is the case, pursuing pleasurable sexual experiences must lead me to a pleasurable life. My sexual experiences filled with love, with community, with a sense of responsibility and care for my partners: They will lead me to a life filled will love, with community, and with a sense of repsonsibility and care for my fellow man. It makes sense to me!
So yeah, if God made us all in his image, and put on on this earth to fulfill his mission and embody his light here on earth: Well, I think my mission from God is to just, expose to the world how constructive sex and queerness can be in embodying his love. I think to the experiences I’ve had with gay sex. Sure, there were awful experiences of abuse and power dynamics. But then I think about my boyfriend from my sophomore spring of college. How we came together. In a few ways. I think to the times I’ve slept with multiple men at the same time. The way that me and my friend slept with his boyfriend recently. Knowing how he had been through so much of the same abuse I had been through, to be able to give him the opposite sexual experience. It felt like I was doing God’s work. And it feels right when I say that.
And the thing is, is that, it just can be hard to know this to my core, while I look at the church and the pope and they’re constantly saying that people like me are sinful, or that for some reason they can’t change doctrine that needs to be changed. They can change it, and it makes me so angry. And it makes me feel disconnected from God. It makes me want nothing to do with God. Just thinking about it now. It’s fucking stupid. It makes me look at the Catholic Church and see an institution doing the work of the Devil. I believe the Catholic Church is doing the work of the devil while I’m doing the work of God by having amazing gay sex with my beautiful friends. And like, I mean it?
Ponderings - 26 September 2025
I think it’s really interesting that I’ve been thinking about this all lately. But I’m just gonna allow myself to follow it.
Going on my idea yesterday that the quality of sexual relationships and experiences I’m having aligns with the quality of life that I experience in general, I’m just inspired to think about my boyfriend from my sophomore year of college. Something I do often, I know. But I just think it’s fascinating that when I was with him, the man I consider the love of my life, everything in my life was going well. I had a lush social life outside of my romantic relationship with him, I was optimistic about the academic and career path I was following, my remixes were reaching an audience of thousands (rather than the tens I reach today, as a much more experienced musician). All during this: I was having amazing sex with not only my boyfriend but with friends here and there as well.
When he graduated, moved away, and shifted his attention away from me to the city of gay men he found himself in, it obviously crushed me. I missed him so much, and of course, the amazing sex that we had stopped. I mentioned earlier that I have experienced molestation and have been sexually assaulted more times than I can even know. When I met my boyfriend that winter, all of the pain that came with my history of abuse disappeared. My boyfriend made me feel warm, loved, and valuable; but more importantly, he made me feel safe. That sexual safety, with where I came from, meant the world to me in a way that impacted my life in a beautiful way. Losing it, evidently, happened right around the same time that life stopped feeling beautiful. He didn’t wait too long to break up with me and pursue the sexually open community of San Francisco, something that he unfortunately didn’t think our relationship could coexist with.
When he broke up with me, like dominoes, my family went bankrupt and had to shift attention to selling my childhood home in the course of like, two months. I found myself back at the YMCA steam room, sitting there until a gross old man showed me that he wanted me. I went back to school, and my friendships weren’t the same: They couldn’t understand the grief I was experiencing following my boyfriend leaving me, which led them to distance themselves from me. I turned my sexual attention away from the guys at school, and looked into the city of Boston to explore experiences with old men. In truth, I was just going back to the routine of my youth and replicating the patterns of abuse I had originally experienced sex with. This eventually led to me being drugged, gang-raped, and nearly kidnapped as I mentioned. This obviously caused a breakdown. A full crisis of self, of faith, of community, of everything. Said breakdown led to a misdiagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, which changed my trajectory away from a corporate city life to years of unemployment and therapy that I’ve only started to truly recover from now in 2025. Losing that healing, light-filled source of sexual energy after my boyfriend left me, caused me to lose track of the light in my life and led me to losing everything. I mean, look at me today. It’s objective.
In those years where I had lost everything, I was exploring sexual experiences more akin to my teenager years than my relationship with my college boyfriend. The sexual experiences matched the quality of life. I’ve mentioned a few times that I feel like I’m recovering today, though. My doctors marked my Bipolar diagnosis as incorrect and took me off the meds that were ruining me, I have a job that taps me into a queer community and diverse city, and I feel the confidence I used to back when I was with my boyfriend back in the day.
Funny enough, over the last months, I’ve made a deep effort to prioritize and explore sexual connections with men I’m friends with, have met in person, and can develop a sense of trust with before jumping in bed together. My sexual experiences are feeling more like they did when my boyfriend and I were together. Through this, my quality of life has improved in every way. The point is that, I just look at my life and my idea that my quality of sex matches my quality of life, and it just makes too much sense. I can see too much evidence. And when I think about that in the context of God, and why I went through the awful things, it’s like. I don’t know. Maybe God’s challenge to me is to remove all shame from sex even in light of a church that says God disapproves. I know God better than those hoes, and it’s my mission to internalize that and know that despite objective evidence from others saying that I’m wrong. To believe myself over people who don’t have the capacity or willingness to understand where I’m coming from. That sounds right.
Ponderings - Oct 13 2025
So I’ve had a few interesting weeks. I’ve met this couple and they are just fascinating. I want to write about them. Because they are expanding my view of myself, of what is possible in partnership, the world and its mysteries, and of what love can mean. They see me for me, which is not something I feel like I say often about men. Especially men that have touched my body and soul in such a way. Am I falling for them? Perhaps, but for right now, I’m just focused on the fact that I feel compelled to write. Not about my ex boyfriend Mikey, the old man Robert… but now about these two fellas. I think that’s pretty significant, so I’m excited to see what happens as I continue to write, and of course, as I continue to get to know these men.
I met them about a month ago, I’d say. I started going to karaoke.