The first performance I did with the gay men’s chorus on Thursday evening ended up being such a difficult, overwhelming experience for me that I skipped the one on the next day.
Last Thursday, I just couldn’t get myself in the mood to perform with them. My social battery was drained, my introvert self was the only one in charge, and my autistic brain was misfiring. All I could feel was a desire to run away and hide in my little cave — and the sensorial overload was unbearable, even with the noise-canceling headphones that I donned at every break. When I got home Thursday night I was a wreck: having both a sensorial and an emotional meltdown, feeling overstimulated and lonely and not belonging — or, rather, unable to get my needs met in a way that would help me feel like I belonged in this group of people.
So I took Friday off. I did my job interview and went on a hike.
I reached out to a couple of the chorus members with whom I’m most comfortable to let them know I was struggling, and I got loving, supportive responses, which helped. And I also reached out to the other chorus member who lives in my neck of the woods to carpool: he’s a lovely (socially awkward) person and I knew that would help — and in fact, it did.
Saturday, I gave it another try, while also giving myself permission to skip the Sunday performance, if I felt it necessary.
But it wasn’t necessary: at the show on Saturday I had the time of my life and I even had fun socializing with a small group of people afterwards. And Sunday was magical.
I love these people. And I know they love me. We all love one another. What I was unable to see, or receive, at the performance on Thursday night I saw and felt clearly, intensely during the weekend shows, like I had at the retreat: these people love and care for each other so deeply, so sincerely. There is just so, so much love and care among them all, among us all. This is a family, a beautiful chosen family.
Before the show on Sunday we did more shares, and I did mine, too. Without mincing words, I told them personal things that are often hard for me to share even with my closest friends: I told them how I dread the holidays, how I’ve dreaded them almost my entire life because to me they mean a time of year when I’m either with people who do not see the true me or alone; I told them my father died a year & a half ago and that the last time I saw him was at Christmas nine years ago; I told them how he’ll never know the “real me” but also how he would have been horrified by, or not understood, the trans gay boy that I am; I told them about my autistic brain and sensorial overloads; and that for all these reasons this holiday show is very difficult for me and that I was a wreck when I got home on Thursday night; but I also told them how I had had the time of my life on Saturday and how thankful I am to be part of this family; and how I hope to make new memories, associated with positive feelings, around the holidays with/thanks to this chorus.
It was very difficult for me to say all that but I also knew I needed to say it and would regret it if I didn’t. And I found the courage to share all that with them greatly thanks to what other folks had shared before me (gosh, the amount of pain and trauma that so many of them have endured…) and to the expressions on their faces while I was sharing: the empathy on their faces while I was talking… I felt so held… And later, throughout the evening, folks came to me to thank me for sharing and offered me love, support, empathy. And hugs. So many hugs of so many different kinds…
In so many moments I have the feeling of not belonging, of still not being integrated enough into this group of people, of not knowing how to interact or get closer to them. I often still feel like I’m yearning for something that I cannot quite get, and it’s partly that I don’t even know exactly what it is that I want from them… But to say that I’m not connecting or getting closer to people is a lie. I am connecting. I am connecting with many of them and with some of them in ways that are quite deep. There’s my Big Brother who’s super sweet and clasps me in big, warm, tight, brotherly hugs. There’s my section leader who checks in with me and offers me fatherly support and big dad hugs. There’s the vice president who is super responsive and supportive with me via text and even in person whenever I need it. There’s the older guy with whom I danced Swing who is also one of the people who gave me support when I was struggling at the beginning, who introduced me to his daughter last week and with whom I feel there’s a special connection. There’s one of the guys in the dance troupe who happens to face me for some of their dance numbers in the show and he & I just smile to each other throughout the number — and we finally talked about it and said how special it feels to us both. There’s the guy I hooked up with and with whom there’s still some “special vibe” even if it might just be rubbing cheeks when we embrace at choir. There are several singers in my own section who check in on me almost every time, often offering hugs. There’s all the people that until yesterday I had only said “Hi” to, or maybe not even that, and with whom now there’s been some dialogue, hugs, a new connection.
I’m still confused and a little overwhelmed by all this — so much of it is still so new and unclear to me, I still feel like I have so many questions and doubts around how to navigate all this and so much fear around losing it. And so much impatience about “getting closer” already.
The truth is, I’m still figuring it all out, and often the process feels too slow and uncertain to me. But the truth also is that these people care for each other and love one another and are chosen family for each other: and that includes me, too.
These people really feel for each other — for me included — those messages that we’re spreading in our holiday show: love, joy, and acceptance.
The Little Prince and the Fox 