Lead with Love - on radio at 11:00 a.m.

This sounds promising...

maybe some of us should call in ;)

1/17/11: Lead With Love

Doug Fabrizio (2011-01-17)

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH (KUER) - Monday, Doug sits down with University of Utah psychologist David Huebner and filmmaker Jenny Mackenzie to talk about a new documentary they've created for parents of gay and lesbian children. Huebner's research has found that when parents reject their children, those kids are more likely to be depressed and to take drugs. They are also eight times more likely to attempt suicide. The film gives practical advice to parents about what they can do to make a difference. It's called "Lead With Love."

11:00 a.m. MST on KUER and XM public radio. You can also listen live from anywhere via their website which will also offer the show as a podcast later at kuer.org.

Suicidal Thoughts - Part 2

An edited transcription of journal entries, circa 2001.

April 28 – I am grateful for my family and pray that I will again be able to learn and grow. I have made many mistakes. I have been harsh and demanding. As AA advises I need to make a searching and fearless moral inventory. I have begun this night. I also wish to place in writing that I will try to forgive everyone. I’ve wanted to blame others for my failings. I have blamed others. I wish to forgive and forget. I seek to wipe the slate clean, to move forward.

April 30 – Back in January I had an idea for a screenplay. I was pretty full of myself back then. Better to be here and trying to recover than living in some dream world. I’m grateful for family and friends. And friends who feel like family. I don’t have to have an unobstructed view of the mountain to appreciate its beauty. I can see the evening sun on the mountain peaks. God gives us so much, the gift of being ourselves, and sometimes he gives us mysterious gifts we don’t understand.

May 1 – I have so much to live for but I feel empty and of little worth and discouraged. I have felt these feelings before. I have been through bleak times, but I have survived, I have not given in. Still having tremendous difficulty eating, thinking clearly.

May 6 – I will continue to fight for encouragement and making a valuable contribution.

May 11 – Forgot to take my meds last night. Troubling. Didn’t sleep well. Called in sick. Called my counselor. Called my doctor. Felt pretty desperate. Took a nap. After failing to get through to anyone, at about 11:30 I worked up my courage to call 1-800-SUICIDE. The kind woman on the line helped me understand and sort through several things. She helped me gauge in the intensity of my feelings. She asked, “Do you have a gun now or have you take drugs?” I said no. She asked if I planned to do anything today. I said no. I told her I couldn’t get through to my doc or counselor, that food tasted awful and I was losing weight and couldn’t sleep well, and knew these were signs of depression. She said helped me see that although I was troubled, and feeling panic, I was not in eminent danger.

Finally got a call back from my counselor. “Satan has the power to discourage us, but exercise faith and move forward. We have the power to crush the serpent’s head. Remember Paul, we are troubled on every side but not perplexed. Keeping moving forward in faith.”

May 13 – I’ve been trying to keep myself busy. I have tried to be calm and have succeeded, it is just that on the inside I feel so hopeless and guilty. I know I have been the cause of so many problems and unhappiness. There is a wise part of me that says hang in there you can beat this. There is another part of me that says everyone would ultimately be better off if you were gone. That seems so stupid when I write it down, but the thing is that right now it seems true. If only I hadn’t read that newspaper article about Evergreen. If only I had been able to carry the secret to my grave. If only Evergreen had worked better. I don’t know how to sort it out anymore. It gave me great hope. Perhaps too much hope.

May 24 – Saw my counselor. He recommended a nurse practitioner who can evaluate my meds. The rapport I used to have with this man is all but gone. I left his office smiling, but it was a phony smile. Maybe this woman who can prescribe meds will be more helpful.

May 25 – Did a great deal of throwing things away at the office today. Am getting more organized. If I’m not going to be there at least I can leave it clean. 

Continue to Part 3

Suicidal Thoughts

An edited transcription of journal entries

January 6 – Bishop and I just finished an interview. He will recommend that I be ordained a High Priest. He said I once taught him that when you can’t express a thought in the spoken word, you can write it and then burn it and let the smoke carry it away. I don’t remember telling him that. Maybe it was something I suggested in a quorum discussion long ago.


February 11 – Stake Conference. Faith and delight in keeping the commandments. Angels to bear you up. Seeking the one in need. Miracles do happen. God wants all to have love and happiness. Give up all your sins to know God. Many ways to sin. Watch yourselves, your thoughts, words and deeds. Remember and perish not. Keep commandments always. Never vary from them.


March 8 – Melancholia, depression, the blues have been called many things of the centuries. I write now because this awful guest is visiting and I don’t want him hanging around. He is boorish and robs my energy and goodness. Get thee hence, darkness. Have I brought this on myself or is it just something that comes along like bad weather. I’m unusually quiet, fidgety, and impatient. People who are perfectly patient and never complain when in pain are amazing. I'm not one of them.


April 9 – I don’t feel “normal” and I wish I could get better. I guess I’m always looking outside myself, thinking that I will find “the answer” out there somewhere. But the wise, ancient part of me knows that there really isn’t any one answer. There are approaches. Balance to be sought. Ideals to strive for. Why can't just visualizing the ideal be enough to bring some relief? I don’t have to be happy all the time, but a few moments here and there would be nice. Silence doesn’t have to be empty or lonely, but it is right now. I have sought both old and new friends. It is a labor. I can only sing certain songs and my songs are not always what they seem. If I can’t accept myself, how can I expect anyone else to?

Continue to Part 2

Public Displays of Affection

Tonight following a weekend of news about the kissing arrests on the Main Street Plaza near Temple Square and today's Kiss-In protest, I'm feeling the unwelcome presence of my old friend HP (aka Homophobia).

HP and I go way back. I knew him long before I knew his name or what he was about. He showed up in kindergarten when I found out that telling the truth about bullies made me a tattle tale. He later taunted me on the playground of my elementary school, but where I really got to know him was in my junior high gym class. He was the loud mouth in the locker room who threatened "You're gonna die a long slow death if I ever catch you looking at my ass that way again you little fag."

I tried to make peace with him and by the time I got in high school I thought of him as my friend. In exchange for averting my eyes and trying to be more manly in my walk and talk, I thought he was protecting me from the other bullies. HP's not so bad, I thought. If I follow his rules, I'll be safe. More people will like me. I might not be one of the jocks, but at least they'll talk to me. 

In college I tried to lose HP, but by then I'd pretty much accepted that he'd always be hanging around. To be fair, he's probably one of the reasons I dated women, fell in love, got married and had children. I guess I owe him thanks for helping out on that.

During the AIDS crisis of the early eighties, I again thought of him as a friend. Without him I imagined that I could have done things that would have caused a real-life version of that long, slow death he'd threatened back in junior high. He's a jerk, but I guess he helped save my life, I had to admit.

But by now, three decades later, I really thought I'd put the whole HP friendship issue in the lock box of the past. He was someone who used to be in my life. Someone I got over. Someone not worth the effort to even think about. 

But I got a strong dose of reality this weekend. I see the truth is that he's been a very busy and successful power broker. He hangs out with everyone from presidents and religious leaders to security guards. He's got a condo in Sacramento and access to a beautiful home in a gated community in Texas.

Even so, I have a feeling he's not forgotten me. I wonder if he saw me Thursday after lunch when I hugged a friend. I wonder if he saw me with my friends on Friday night when I put my arms around them both for a picture. 

I wonder if he's been taking his own pictures of me. I wonder if I'm going to get a email, or worse yet, he's going to be in the garage again some day, like he was years ago when he whispered, "If you just leave the engine running, the world will be a better place in just a few minutes." I feel like screaming the old Dylan song, "You've got a lot of nerve to say you are my friend." But the truth is I'm still afraid of him. 

Anyone else here know this guy? And have you got any advice for me on how to get rid of him once and for all or is he something I've just got to endure to the end?

Internalized Homophobia?

When I came out to my wife and members of my extended family more than a decade ago, I sought hugs and I got them. Slowly my situation faded into the background and so did much of the physical affection. I still want it, but I no longer initiate it, and except for the occasional hugs from three women in our family circle, it rarely happens.

Every now and then I'll let a handshake with a brother-in-law linger a little longer, but they'll usually break it off. Sometimes I'll put my arm around someone, but the gesture is rarely reciprocated. I look at the photo above and wish that kind of easy, affectionate touch could again happen in my life. But for some reason I have become largely untouching and untouchable. It seems rational that this is but a spiral that can be broken.

I can even imagine a scenario where I give someone a bear hug which is warmly reciprocated and I say "Thanks, that sure felt good. I've needed that for a long time." And the person I'm hugging says, "Well it felt good to me, too. I've missed your hugs. I hope you'll continue to give them." And then he gives me an even longer, tighter hug than I've just given him.

But a darker part of me says, "It's not about breaking a spiral, it's that you're broken. From the moment you came out you've been damaged goods and there's no amount of fairy tale scenarios that will change it. The real reason they don't touch you is because they find you and your desires repugnant. They did back then and they still do. They haven't forgotten what people like you want to do. Spare them any more nausea. Keep your hands and your thoughts to yourself."