Pillows and Blankets

Again, I wake up drenched in sweat short of breath. I lean over the edge of my bed, pick up my cell phone and see that it is 2:35 in the morning. Ugh I think to myself. Another restless night. Another night where I cannot sleep well, wake up from a dream, short of breath and in need of water. “What is going on?” I think to myself. I lay there. Close my eyes. Inhale deeply, hold my breath as I count to five and exhale. Hoping. Hoping that I can fall asleep. I repeat this same exercise a few more times. Nothing. I am not able to fall back asleep. I flip over to the other side of the bed thinking that maybe the heat on the left side of the bed is causing me to not be able to fall asleep. Ahhhh. The cool pillow. The cool sheets. The small breeze from the window blows in. I close my eyes once more and repeat the breathing exercises. Nothing! ARGH! I flip back to the other side of the bed, and back again, and again and again until I finally get up, go into the kitchen grab some water and a small snack. As I make my way back into bed, I look at my cell phone again and the time is 5:15. Almost three hours I spent tossing and turning! I know that I must make my calls at 8 am as that is 10 am in Texas. I am frustrated because I have not been able to sleep well. Why I wonder? What is going on?

Morning arrives. I drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen to make myself a warm cup of my favorite Ethiopian blend coffee from Trader Joe’s. I start the oven to make my breakfast. I sip my coffee, check my emails and eat quickly before I start making my phone calls. My roommate is still asleep so I close my bedroom door and try to speak as quietly as possible, to not disturb him. He works evenings and sleeps late into the morning. I make my calls in Texas and then in California. My day carries on with more phone conversations, emails, portal issues and on and on. My days keep me busy and I love the work that I do. After my day wraps up, I shower quickly and head to the gym. I follow the routine my friend gave me as it has worked tremendously for me. After the gym, I head home, eat and then to bed again. The same routine over and over. I head on to bed for another sleepless night.

I have often thought to myself, why do I feel the need to cover myself completely when I go to bed? I know that the blankets and pillows are the reason I wake up in sweat and thirsty. My body is so hot under the layers of sheets and blankets that it must wake me up to replenish the water that has been lost. My pillowcases turn yellow after a few days from the accumulation of the sweat. Due to that, I must wash all of my sheets frequently. But why? Why do I cover myself completely?

My entire life I have slept like this. I have always ensured that my sheets and comforters were tucked in between my mattress and the bed frame so that they would not move as I tossed and turned at night. I would cover up all the way to my neck every night, whether it was -15 degrees outside or whether it was 95 degrees and 98% humidity. To me, it did not matter. I had to be covered. I also had to have pillows, 4 to be exact. Two laying across the top of the bed for my head and two laying perpendicular to those pillows so that when I laid on my stomach I could wrap my arm around one and fall asleep. My parents and siblings used to make fun of me when I was young saying things like “I was afraid that something was going to grab me in the middle of the night” or “I was pretending to be a king because I needed so many pillows and blankets.”

The first one, I can somewhat agree with. Sure, when I was younger I was afraid of things like the “boogie man” sneaking up in the middle of the night and grabbing my foot or my arm. The second, not so much. I did not think I was royalty or that I needed to sleep like royalty. As I grew older, this fear of the boogie man disappeared, as it does with most kids. So, why did I and so I still need all the blankets and pillows?

I have been doing some self-reflecting recently and have come to the following conclusion. For my whole life, the blankets and pillows were the only sense of security for me.. Weird, right?! Coming from someone who does not care about materialistic things and spends all his time and effort with people. Even so, these objects were the only things that provided me with a sense of security and this is why.

Growing up, I knew I was different. I later came to realize that that difference was me being gay. Growing up as a Christian, I knew that being gay was a sin. In my small Serbian community, the idea of being gay was constantly discussed and how all the gays were going to go to hell and should be killed. This frightened me. Can you imagine being 13 years old and being told and hearing that I was going to hell or that I was going to be killed for being who I was? 13. I was born and raised in the United States of America, the freest nation in the world and I feared for my life.

I feared losing those most important to me, my parents and my siblings. Hearing them participate in these conversations and agree that all gays were going to hell, made me scared to fully be myself around them. Every day was a lie for me. I had to hide who I truly was, how I felt and what I was thinking. I had to put on a show every day that my life was fine, that I was happy and that I was simply going along and doing the right thing. I have been told by many that I was a happy child and that I had a great life. I was very fortunate to have had a financially secure upbringing, however, no one knew what went on inside.

No one knew the stories I had to make up, the lies to go along with the stories and then all the effort in remembering the lies and the stories. I became so good at lying that it seemed effortless on the outside. On the inside, it was a constant battle. I was constantly overthinking and re-thinking to make sure that I was always a few steps ahead of everyone in the stories I told so it would not seem like a lie. I also knew that lying was a sin. There were two strikes against me.

Often times, at night I would cry myself to sleep. There were 8 of us in our household so I could never really cry and let my emotions out. I had to bite my tongue, my cheeks or the pillows to keep any noise from coming out. I could not let anyone hear me cry because I knew they would come into my room and ask me what was wrong. I could not explain it to them so it was easier to hold in the pain and let it out through my tears then to fully be able to cry. Even then, I could not fully express myself.

I cried because I was made fun of for being different. I cried because I was left out at school. I cried because I knew that there was a large possibility that I would lose those most important to me simply for being who I was and not for something I did. Honestly, if I was an alcoholic or drug abuser, I could understand losing my family. However, to know that I could lose them for simply being who I was hurt me tremendously.

This fear of losing them caused me much emotional insecurity. I had no idea what to do and was always afraid that no matter what I did, there was a possibility I was going to lose them. As a young boy, I turned to the only thing I could find: my blankets and my pillows.

For a short time, wrapped underneath my blankets and pillows, I knew I was ok. The blankets surrounded me like a warm hug and the pillows provided me with comfort. These inanimate objects became the only things I could rely on. No matter what, they were always there. I knew that because I knew the blankets were tucked in and the pillows were under my arms. I felt safe.

As strange as it sounds, my blanket was my mask. It was the thing I could, literally and figuratively, pull over and I felt safe behind it. For most people, they put on a certain persona. In essence, they step into character, sort of like actors do. They have created within their minds a life and a story that they try and convey to others to mask who they really are. I was connected to the Source of my being so I did not need to put on a different persona. I did, however, need to feel safe.

As an adult, I still do this. Men in the gay community, at least from my experience, are takers. They want what they want when they want it. They lead you on to believe that you matter to them, then turn around and lie to your face. They take advantage of people like me who are willing to give, willing to give them all of ourselves. Now, I am not generalizing. I am simply stating what I have experienced. My hope with the guys I have met and have had a connection with was that I could finally have a sense of emotional security; I could create a family that loved me and accepted me for who I was, no strings attached. However, each time I have been proved wrong.

Many of them may have experienced something similar to me; fear of losing their families, fear of going to hell or fear of losing their lives. As gay human beings, we face many challenges early on in our lives. We are in a world that tells us who we are is wrong and that we will suffer because of it, whether it be at the hands of another human being or a spiritual figure. As a result, many men, and women, have low self-images, self-esteem and self-confidence. A lot of them, from my experience, have developed a sense of self-worthlessness.

This feeling of self-worthlessness often time leads to lack of respect for oneself, others and the gay community. Many men turn to alcohol and drugs to temporarily remove the pain from their lives. Others begin to objectify men and body shaming ensues. Many turn to steroids thinking that a perfectly sculpted body will provide them with a sense of worth as the attention they receive feeds their ego. Then, some turn and become promiscuous. Unfortunately, their behavior has been highlighted and deemed to be predatorial, giving a bad image to the rest of the gay community. These men develop a sense of worth based on the number of people they sleep with.

For a while, I did turn to alcohol as a way of removing some of the pain and anxiety I was feeling. It was nice, for a few hours, to not think about anything and simply enjoy the moment. The high feeling from the alcohol felt good. My brain could relax for a few hours and I could simply enjoy being who I was. This carried on for a few years, every weekend. Sometimes it was a few times a week. As I came to terms with who I was as a person, I struggled to understand men. The template I grew up with in my household was very different than the experiences I was having.

Most of the men I met were simply takers and users. Being brought up the way I was, I always searched for the good in people. I saw and knew the red flags were there, however, I chose to believe that there was still good inside of them. I was right! There were good qualities in all of the men I met, however, they saw my kindness and understanding as a weakness they could take advantage of. I was a rare person within the small gay community in Milwaukee, and now in the larger Los Angeles community. I was kind to other gay men, I gave and accepted compliments and was always upfront about what my needs/wants and intentions were. I did not lie to anyone and I did not sleep my way to any success I had.

Many of the men I met saw this in me and took advantage of me. They lead me on to believe that they were interested in me and when I wanted more from them, they acted as if I was crazy. They would do sweet things like buy me dinners, give me gifts and talk to me regularly. To me, these were all signs that they were interested in pursuing a relationship. As such, there were certain standards I had for myself and my to be partner. When I began voicing those standards/needs/wants, I became crazy. They made me believe that I was asking for too much and that I must have had some issues internally.

I am not a perfect person, however, I have spent time analyzing some of the issues I may have and none of them had anything to do with what I wanted from these men. I wanted commitment, time and attention. I am an ambitious individual so expensive clothing, watches, dinners or other gifts never impressed me. Were they nice? Sure! Who does not like nice, expensive things, however, that would not win my heart over. I wanted intimacy, not just random sexual encounters. I wanted their time because to me that was the most important and expensive gift anyone could give me.

So why am I different? Why do I not fit into the same category as most of these other men? A few reasons…

The template I grew up with was not one that many people have. My template was no matter what, you do not give up. You compromise. You make sacrifices for the good of the entire family, not just yourself. You handle situations as a family. You communicate so that everyone is on the same page and things can get done. You never give up on each other, no matter how difficult times or things were.

In my household lived three generations; us children, my parents and my grandparents. My grandparents were crucial influencers in my and my siblings’ lives. Both my mother and father worked tirelessly. My father worked in a factory as a laborer and my mother climbed her way up the corporate ladder. Both very different fields and requiring different skills. They wanted to have four children and they wanted to provide the best possible life for their children that they could. So, off they went to work every morning. Their days usually started at 4 am and did not end until 10 or 11 pm.

My grandparents were always there for us. They helped take care of us when we were young so that both of my parents could work and provide for the family. My grandmothers would cook for us, bathe us, feed us, clothe us, keep us warm and put us to sleep. My grandfather would help take care of household chores so that my grandmothers could tend to us (one of my grandfathers passed away when I was very young).

As we grew older and went off to school, my grandparents were always there at home waiting for us. They had food ready as they knew we were starving after long days in the classroom. They would talk to us; tell us stories about the wars they survived, how they traveled through Europe taking care of other family members and teaching us the values of doing the right thing, being loyal, being honest and taking care of each other. They helped fill in the gaps when my parents could not be around.

Due to the system society has created, my parents did not have any other choice but to both work. Sure, my mother could have stayed home with us children, however, that meant 8 of us would have had to live off of less than $50,000 a year! Can you imagine? That is before tax! That is less than $6,500 per person per year! To put that into perspective, that would be an allowance for each member of the family of $125 a week, before tax. That means food, clothes, medicine, doctor visits, school tuition, taxes, car payments, credit card debt and not to mention any one off expenses or fun. My grandparents were a form of free childcare for my parents. We were a functioning household where every member contributed in some way.

My siblings and I were blessed. Yes it was difficult as we only had a four bedroom home and we all felt like we were on top of each other, however, we did have a four bedroom home! How many people do you know, who after moving to the U.S. and only living there for 10 years could afford a 4 bedroom home? We were blessed to have such a large space to live in. We were blessed to never have to worry about where our next meal was coming from. We were blessed to never have to worry about being cold in the winter. We were blessed to never have to worry about the lights going out and not being able to do our homework. We were blessed to never have to worry about not being able to participate in functions because of lack of transportation. We were blessed to never have to worry about not being able to go to the doctor and receive treatment. We were blessed to never have to worry about being home alone. We were blessed to never have to worry about anything.

In addition to my template, I felt a lot of pain as a child. Being gay, most of us experience this as we are different from our peers yet we do not understand why. Growing up, I was made fun of by others, not included and even had my birthday forgotten. This was done by both kids at school and my family. Experiencing all of this, I had a choice. I could choose to become better or bitter. I could choose to allow the pain to run my life and become a mean person to others or I could choose to understand others, accept them and provide them with a safe space to be themselves.

I choose the latter. I knew how much it hurt to be made fun of, excluded and what it was like to question my self-worth. I knew how much it hurt to go to bed every night and cry myself to sleep. I knew how much it hurt to have to hold in the pain as I knew if I let out even a slight whimper, questions and anxiety would ensue. I knew what it was like to have to hide, lie and question everything. I knew the pain and I did not want anyone else to experience it.

From an early age, I decided that I would accept people for who they were. I would not judge them, I would not question anything about them nor would I expect them to be anything other than who they were. As I grew older and came to accept myself, I began to exude a confidence that attracted many. I was safe and secure in who I was and people naturally gravitated towards that. It was evident in my posture, in my walk and the way I communicated with others.

I could walk into a room and I was confident. I only ever viewed myself as being equal to everyone else in the room; I respected those that had done great works in their lives, however, I never held them to a godly standard nor did I view those that had not accomplished as much as I did as inferior to me. When I would meet someone new, I looked them in the eye, shook their hand and immediately tried to converse and see what was important to them. Was it their job, their family, their pets or simply being around other people? Each person had a different reason and I related to it on some level.

My confidence and sense of security in who I was allowed others to feel relaxed. The energy I exuded was one of peace, tranquility and understanding. This energy allowed people to take off their facades and simply be themselves for a little bit. They saw my vulnerability and humanity. They knew I was human just like they were, no matter what I had accomplished or what I was doing. I viewed them the same way; they are another human being with gifts to give the world and they are my equal. We each have our own gifts to offer and together we make the world a better place.

Even though I felt confident in myself and accepted others for who they were, I still live with this emotional insecurity. I am still afraid that those I love most and care about most will leave me. This is very different than trying to please people. I work hard to make sure I am able to keep people in my life, however, I do not exude tremendous effort to please them. I check in on people regularly, I remember small things like when their birthday’s are, if someone in their family is sick I ask about them, their silly dramas and whether they themselves are doing ok. I want those in my life to know I genuinely care about them and I will do anything to make sure they are a part of my life. Yet, I fear that at some point it may not be enough. I fear that I may do or say something that turns the person off and they walk out of my life. As I sit here and right this, I realize that this fear is an irrational one, however, I cannot undo almost 20 years of conditioning in one piece.

So back to my blankets and pillows I go.