This summary of personal experience appeared in the Family Fellowship newletter, Reunion,  in 1998.

      Lee.........

After spending two years in the mission field and in therapy, I returned home, and my parents immediately got me in to see a psychiatrist. They were going to fix me or change me or heal me at any cost, and I also wanted to change, badly. I wanted to be normal at any cost. And for the rest of my life, I have searched for the cure that I thought must be somewhere out there. I saw the psychiatrist once a week for several months at that time. 

As I was going through psychotherapy, my parents where made aware of a radical new kind of therapy. The technical term for it was "Aversion Therapy." I call it what it is: Shock Therapy. There are many who believe that it never existed, that it was only rumors that were being circulated. Well, I went through this therapy once a week for almost two years! It was real! It was cruel, barbaric, and I was promised that I would be made better if I stuck with it! I did stick with it. The promise was an illusion, and I became more messed up than when I started. I would like to describe this barbaric therapy so that those who think it was a myth will know differently, and so that those who think that I didn’t want change bad enough will know that one would have to want it desperately to go through this torture for that length of time! 

The therapy was administered by a doctor named Robert Card in a little office on "H" street just off North Temple in Salt Lake. I would be led into a little room about four feet by eight or ten feet with a draped window in the back. In this little room there was a TV against a blank wall at one end, a chair placed close to the other end, and a large machine with meters and dials on it. Next to the machine was a chair and a projector where the doctor sat. After I entered the room I was handed a small, very fine circular clamp (or ring) with an open end that touched very finely together and some wires attached to it. I was asked to drop my pants, place the ring around the shaft of my penis, then carefully replace my clothes loosely and sit down. The doctor would then come back into the room and place cuffs on each arm, from my wrist to my elbow. These cuffs had several electrodes in them running the length of the arm. The doctor would turn out the lights, turn on a small lamp back where he sat, and fire up the machine. He would test a charge of electricity on me and set a level. The more intense the shock, the more aversive the therapy. 

After I was all set up and had been shocked a couple of times to get my levels, then the real fun would begin. The doctor would turn on a very graphic porno video of two or more men having sexual intercourse (and other activities). As I became excited and started to get an erection, the little ring around my penis would measure the slightest growth in circumference. This would then register on the device where the doctor sat, and he would hit me with a few seconds of volts. He would then sharply tell me to control my arousal. After a few minutes he would hit me with a few more seconds of electricity. This would go on for about five to ten minutes. I would get aroused no matter how hard I tried not to, and I would be shocked again and again. Then he would turn off the homosexual video and turn on a very graphic heterosexual video. As I watched this, he would instruct me to become aroused and to enjoy what I was looking at. At that point I would think to myself, "Hello! What do you think? That this naked man in all his glory is not arousing to me? That woman is of no consequence, she is just there. I can do this." Then after five or ten minutes, we would go back to the homosexual video and start again. 

Week after week, month after month, I would go to this little room and allow myself to be tortured, all for the sake of change! The problem was that the doctor had to keep building up the voltage to get more effect. Like Skinner’s rats, I got used to it to some degree. One day, after nearly two years, the charge was so intense that it kicked me out of my seat. I stood up, pulled off the electrodes, pulled off the little ring, and never went back! I was definitely not cured, just more messed up. 

I was a full-time student and worked part time, and I was in hiding all the time. I had experienced a few homosexual encounters (mostly circumstantial), though I was working very hard to stay true to my therapy. While I was at Weber State, I dated a few young ladies, though not more than two or three times. I tried to be hetero-social. I ran with a really fun young adult group, and there were some good people that I associated with. In this group was a very attractive young man named Gordon who became a good friend. We did many things together and had a special bond. One night he introduced me to a very beautiful young lady, his sister Tina. We dated for a short while, and I asked her to marry me. I thought she was beautiful and we had become good friends. I really thought this was what I wanted, and in order to continue to be part of my church, society, and family, this was the direction I took. I was in therapy, so I thought that eventually I would get better. Tina is one of the finest people I know. We were very good friends. When I asked her to marry me, I also explained to her that I was a homosexual. She accepted that fact, but in later years related that she had no idea at the time just how extreme, intense and emotionally exhausting it was going to be. She said yes, and after a long engagement, we were sealed in the Logan Temple for time and all eternity. I now realize that I involved this sweet daughter of God in the most terrible trial of her life. It breaks my heart that the one person I cared about most deeply got "the bad end of a very short stick." 

Our marriage was not easy in any way. As I said, we were the best of friends, but there is more to a marriage than friendship. The first month we tried very hard to be sexually intimate and loving in that way. It was a tremendous amount of work for me, and finally after five attempts, over a period of time, Tina said that she would not ask me to do that anymore. She could see how difficult it was and just couldn’t ask me to keep trying. So for fourteen years of marriage, we had sexual intimacy less than the number of fingers on both hands! Tina had all the desires of a normal heterosexual woman, and it was difficult for her in this relationship. She finally stopped feeling. How or where she was able to put all of that away, I don’t know, and I’m sorry she ever had to. I was truly blessed to have spent fourteen years with this wonderful woman. My great aunt spoke of her as "an angel", and I completely agree. It could not have been easy being married to one with so much conflict inside. I wanted to be a good husband to her. I gave her everything that I could; she never wanted for anything, except to be held and loved as a woman. I could not do that. 

We had many wonderful things, but we were never husband and wife. We had hopes and dreams just like any other couple. We wanted children, but they never came. We wanted friends, but because we were mostly in hiding, we did not have them. If we were around people for any length of time, they would start to ask questions or figure things out. For that reason we were very reclusive. The more closed we became to protect ourselves, the more out of control my needs became. I think it is sad that our society so often creates this scenario. Because homosexuals are misunderstood, hated, persecuted, and ostracized, we marry to create a facade in order to be accepted in our communities, jobs, families and churches. But our needs and our identity are real and powerful...." 

Many young men have been advised to "just get married and it will work itself out." But there are many people left in terrible pain from such advice. I am one of them. I am blessed that Tina cared enough to let go, so that we could both have a life and a future before there could be none. She is still my dearest friend and my angel. 

When we were first married, I was undergoing shock treatments. This went on for some time. For the entire fourteen years, Tina and I kept hoping that I would someday "get better." The time finally came when I had to walk away from "Dr. Shock", and to this day there is great confusion about what actually happened as a result of his abuse. Whenever I feel a static electric shock, I have little flashes of withdrawal. 

A few months passed, and I found another counselor who was a psychologist. He felt that dealing with my childhood issues would somehow allow me to let go of those things that were preventing me from "being the man" I could be. I spent almost a year, once a week, in his care. Still no cure. I then went to a physician who said that he felt that it was a chemical imbalance, and so we went through many intense tests, blood, brain scans, etc. I was put on hormones and other chemicals, including an anti-depressant. I followed this regime for over a year and found that I was no different than when I started; though possibly, the highs and lows of my emotions were not so extreme. 

During this time, I was asked to visit with Brother Robert E. Wells. He was the General Authority who, at the time, was in charge of the homosexual issue. I made an appointment, drove to Salt Lake and sat down with Brother Wells. We talked about my mission, some companions, and where I was with my issue upon returning. We talked about my marriage and the wonderful woman to whom I was blessed to be sealed. We discussed the different kinds of therapies that I had been through. Finally he told me to go home and have true physical relations with my wife, that this was the only true form of love. If I practiced this, then I would be OK. 

I looked at him and said, "OK, from this day forward, suppose I were to tell you that making love to women was no longer appropriate or normal, that you must no longer be attracted to, or want to be with women. From now on, you will only have sexual relations with and be in love with men. You must commit yourself to men! Now, I want you to go home and have physical relations with the gardener and only the gardener. That will make you normal. Do think that you can do that?" He quietly placed his hands together and said to me, "I never thought of it like that." 

We sat in silence for several minutes. Then I asked him, "What will happen to me in heaven? If I live as celibate a life as I possibly can, this does not change everything that I feel, think, need or am inside. Though I may not act on it, I am still homosexual. Don’t the scriptures tell us that as we think, we are? What happens to me in heaven? I have to know!" Again he placed his hands together and quietly said, "We don’t have those answers." I left his office confused, amazed, a little angry, and still wondering where my religious beliefs would take me. 

My search had taken me to many specialists, one of whom was a marriage and family therapist. Tina and I spent almost two years attending sessions with Sam. He taught us many valuable lessons and techniques to help our marriage and our relationship. We were still unable to have sex, and that was always a thorn. Sam introduced us to subliminal tapes, and I had some specially created for me, to work on my subconscious, conscious and superconscious. This tape was termed "white noise." It was like listening to television between channels. Underneath the noise was a voice that was barely audible. That voice would tell me subconscious messages, that I was a man, a normal, straight man, with normal heterosexual feelings and desires. I was very attracted to women and desired to have sexual relations with them. The voice would tell me many things that involved being a heterosexual male, over and over again. I listened faithfully to this tape and others that were created for me. In the car, at night while I slept, in the background while I watched TV or did chores around the house, I listened. I was open to the change, and the change never came. I did this the whole two years that we visited Sam. Tina and I grew from the experience, but I was still very much homosexual. 

There was a small period of time when I stopped seeing anyone. I desperately wanted to change, but I didn’t know where to turn. After about a year, I found myself still desiring and deeply attracted to men. I was referred to a chiropractor who told me that if the body was out of alignment, then quite possibly other things, including my subconscious, were also. He felt that there were more things involved than just being homosexual. I realize at this time that it was truly a long shot, but when I wanted so desperately to be "normal" and no longer feel guilt or be an "abomination", I would try anything. So I took treatments from him for just over a year, two times a week. Still the needs existed, and the desires were always there, but I had to try. There was a positive side effect; I found that my posture improved and my headaches were less. 

There was one treatment that I had read about that created or changed different behaviors in people: hypnosis. I had read that you could stop smoking, drinking, or lose weight by creating behavioral change; that it was lasting and effective. Maybe this would be it! Another hope, another possibility. It was hard not to let myself get carried away. The church maintains that homosexuality is a behavior. If that were so, based on everything I had read, hypnotism could alter or change behavior. I contacted a reputable therapist and he referred me to a very reputable hypno-therapist. It took me a little time to work up the courage to go; I didn’t want to be disappointed again. Finally, I made the appointment and sought her out. We spent several sessions together; it took several hours and lots of patience. She restructured some of my beliefs and gave me several post-hypnotic suggestions. I was told that I would feel sick every time I looked at a man and desired him, and that when I had a desirable feeling come over me, I would not be able to achieve an erection. There were many post-hypnotic suggestions that were given. I know of others who have seen this therapist and stopped smoking and lost weight. Somehow I was unable to lose my "behavior." I did gain one valuable piece of insight from this experience, though; I was able to visit with the "little boy inside." We spent a lot of time talking about his pain, his guilt, his need to be loved and nurtured, and his fear that he would never make it to heaven. The hypnosis never changed my homosexuality, though it did teach me. 

I returned to school to complete a degree in Family Studies and Psychology. I had spent so many years in therapy and learning about therapy that I decided to round out the experience with the formal side of my education. I enrolled at Weber State University and started down another path, working to find answers to questions still unanswered. While there, a very generous professor decided to mentor me, and we became very close friends and associates. Dr. Randy Chatelain had some mixed feelings about homosexuals and where he placed them in his life. Because we had achieved such a close bond, I decided one day to open up and seek some guidance as to my issue. He was surprised, yet loving and supportive, and always there to provide me with assistance. We talked on many levels. He created opportunities for me to process my emotions and thoughts. One day, he suggested an organization named Evergreen, and I sought this group out. 

My first meeting was at the LDS Social Services building in Ogden, Utah. I remember driving past the building several times, very sick to my stomach, and very much afraid. I finally worked up the courage to go in, so I parked my car around the back of the building and entered through a side door. The man who had interviewed me a few days before met me in hall, shook my hand and led me to a room where there were about twenty other men gathered together. I remember noticing several men that I knew. (And there were a few others who knew me because of the tapes my brother and I had recorded for the LDS music market.) Sheer panic ran through my veins, and all I wanted to do was run. The man who greeted me held on to my arm and whispered, "It’s going to be all right. You’re safe here." 

I sat down and quietly tried to blend in with the furniture. They were an interesting and diverse group of men. Their ages ranged from nineteen to sixty-four and their personalities went from rough hellion to high councilman. They had a lesson which talked about some of the reasons that homosexual men do the things they do. That was just the tip of the iceberg, but it was a start to understanding. Later we broke into small groups, and those who wanted to, spoke of their struggles. For the first time in my life, I felt that I was no longer alone, that I was not the only one who suffered from this awful plague. It was like looking up into the midnight sky, seeing a star and knowing there were others like it out there. It’s hard to explain, but after hiding all those years and being reclusive to avoid discovery, I suddenly felt that I could have and make friends and share my confusion and find some support. This was the start of something good. 

I became involved in the sports program that was created by a wonderful therapist named Dan Gray. I faithfully attended basketball every Saturday morning in Salt Lake. I was quite intimidated, having never played the sport, but I wanted to learn to be "one of the guys." I felt like such a nerd when I would shoot the ball. The only thing that was of comfort was that the other forty guys there were just as nerdy. In fact, I was probably one of the better players. I remember the excitement the first time the ball spun on the rim of the basket, and after several seconds finally went through. I was ecstatic. 

One Saturday, I saw a very handsome young man who had a wonderful smile and a great sense of humor. He smiled back at me. A group of us went to breakfast after the practice and I sat next to this great guy. We quickly became friends and decided to get together and do something. The first time we got together we set some boundaries on behavior and vocabulary. From there the friendship developed. We planned activities like camping out, walks, tennis, and sitting on mountain sides talking. Each time that we were together the bond became stronger. When I was hurting the most, I knew Jerry would put his arms around me and hold me and comfort me, and I would feel better. We have stayed true to our commitments and to this day we have never violated that trust. We have never been sexually intimate or even allowed it to be discussed. I can honestly say that I love this man more than I have loved anyone. You see, so many people think that being gay is about having promiscuous sex with several partners. That may be a behavior that is an outcome of other behaviors (I have learned a lot about this through Evergreen) but the bottom line is love. I have never had sex with Jerry, and I love him, I want to be with him spiritually, emotionally, as a partner, friend, companion, and then possibly my intimate other. What I feel is real and it is love. And those who are heterosexual and conclude that this cannot possibly be so, have nothing to base their opinions on, for they have not lived as I live nor feel as I feel. I don’t discount their heterosexual thoughts, emotions, and love, though for some reason they feel that they can discount mine. This leaves me confused and hurt. 

I worked very hard in the Evergreen process. I read all the books that I could get my hands on, I talked to all the professionals in the field who would talk to me, and I stayed true to my commitments to not devalue my brothers in the fight. Most of all, I said earnest prayers and made commitments to God to please release me from this trial, and let me be the husband that Tina deserved. I was diligent in my studies at school and went through intense Gestalt training courses to help me deal with the guilt and self-loathing. I was doing everything in my power to be what I wanted to be — to create "change." 

Finally, after much consideration and prayer, I decided to go to my bishop to try to get my life in order and to be worthy of the loving woman who had given me so much. I made an appointment, met with him and told him my secret. He was kind, though very "black-and-white." He knew very little about homosexuality other than the vague pamphlet from the church that he said gave him instructions. He started to pass judgments on me that I did not deserve. So, at that time I told him that he had no business judging me until he understood me. Then I gave him one of the books that I had been reading about homosexuality and its causes. I told him that after he had read it and gained some understanding of the issue, then we would talk. 

He wanted me to get my spiritual life in order before he took any further steps. This offended me, as I have always been deeply spiritual. My relationship with my Father in Heaven has always been very one-on-one, but I went about doing the things that the bishop asked. There was so much anger in me at that time. Here was a man, sitting in judgment over me, who had no training, no insight or understanding of how to deal with or even comprehend the issue that he was judging me for. 

After many months I finally approached him again, because I could not take the pressure anymore. I told him to hold his court and get it over with. He called the Stake President and asked for permission to keep the case in his jurisdiction. On a Sunday afternoon, I walked into the bishop’s office, where his two counselors and the ward clerk sat waiting. Here were two men whom I deeply respected, and now they would know just what I was. It killed me that they would know my secret. We started with prayer, and then the bishop asked me to describe the sins that I had committed. This bothered me; it wasn’t right. I sat and said nothing. Then the Bishop said that he would describe some of the things we had discussed. I stopped him and told him that this was wrong. "If you are to judge me, you have to know me." So I started my story, at the beginning. I told them of the abuse in school and the confusion and pain of being an abomination for all of those years, how the experience of the mission had been so traumatic, the nervous breakdown and falling in love with my companions. I shared the different therapies in detail and the self-hatred that accompanied every failed try. I told how I prayed, every night, for strength and begged the Lord to take it away, or better yet to take me home. 

I looked over and saw tears running down Brother Bowe’s face. I wanted them to know how it was to feel like you were always sitting on the outside looking in. I had desperately wanted to be just one of the guys, to belong. I described how I would sit in priesthood meeting, feeling like an alien, physically sick because I didn’t belong, and the whole time hating myself because I had deep attractions for many of the men in the room. Some of them were people that I loved; they had fellowshipped me and had done things with my wife and me. It was the love that triggered the attractions. I told them that it pained me deeply, knowing that I would never be a man like them, that I would never fit in, or be the husband that Tina deserved. I looked over and saw Brother Gappmeyer wipe tears from his face. He asked me, "How can I help?" I looked at him and said, "Please, when you see me, don’t shame me. I can do that myself. When you see me in the hall or on the street, please don’t look away, or I will be worth nothing." I told them that no matter how hard I worked at it and even after all the therapies, I am still a homosexual. 

Then the Bishop looked at me and said, "You just didn’t want it bad enough!" I died inside. Nobody had wanted it more than I had, and then I had to deal with this extra guilt. At that point I just left it up to them. They called Tina for her statement. It turned out that she was a witness for me and not against me. She explained all that we had been through together and how hard I had worked. Sure, I had fallen many times, but I continued to fight. The Bishop asked her how I could make restitution to her. She explained that I did not owe her anything. He told her that I had broken my covenants with her and that I had offended her womanhood. He said that I owed her restitution to make my wrongs into rights. Again she said that I owed her nothing. She explained to him that if I had been doing this with women for all of these years, that it would have offended her womanhood. But this was something that I had struggled with since I was a child. She was so loving and supportive. I have truly been blessed with an angel as my wife and friend. I was put on probation for one year, and then they would make another determination after that point. 

One night, after all of this, I was feeling quite vulnerable and I went into Tina’s room. I just wanted to be held. I started to speak, and no words would come. Suddenly my eyes filled with tears and I could not utter a word. Tina sat and looked at me, confused, not knowing what was wrong. Finally I spoke and said I was sorry and left the room. After several minutes, I regained some composure and again approached her room. I opened my mouth and again no words would come, just more tears, and I had to leave. I made the approach several more times and each time I could not speak. I was feeling so much pain and fear, and somewhere deep inside, I knew that I was risking rejection. Finally I fought through the tears and reached out and spoke. "Tina, would you please hold me." She looked back at me, with great sadness in her eyes. She paused and then she said, "I can’t do that, I don’t love you anymore." She had worked for so many years to shut down her emotions and needs, that when I approached her, she could not take the risk of being hurt. She simply could not. She loved me, like a brother; she no longer loved me as a husband. Then she said, "I think we need to separate." I said, "You mean like as in live apart until we sort this out?" She said "No, I mean divorce. I just can’t do this anymore." 

My whole system went into shock; my brain shut down. My only thought was, "Oh dear God, now I’m just a lousy homosexual." I got in my car, half dressed, and drove for hours. I didn’t know where I was going and I really didn’t care. I drove thoughtlessly — I’m lucky I didn’t kill someone — all I wanted to do was kill myself. I fought with myself over and over and finally decided that dying was the only way to make the pain stop for good. So I went to Jerry’s house to tell him I loved him and to let him know how much he had made a difference in my life. I arrived at one or two in the morning; I wasn’t clear about the time — it didn’t matter anymore. I put my arms around him, hugged him, and told him I loved him. Then I went to leave. 

Sensing something was wrong Jerry grabbed me and started to quiz me. I started to cry. I needed to leave now! I had things to finish. He threw me on the floor and wrestled me until I was so tired I couldn’t move. Quietly I told him that Tina wanted a divorce and now I was nothing. After a very long time, and after I had gained some sense of control, Jerry told me that he would either take me to the hospital or home but he wasn’t going to let me be alone. I told him to take me home. I knew that I had a bottle of pills there, and that would be easier than wrecking the car. 

When we arrived at my house, I went in and lay down on the couch. Jerry told me to get some rest and that he would come back on his lunch to check on me. Tina had left, probably gone to work. Shortly after Jerry left, I got the bottle of pills and took them. I figured I would be gone before he ever returned. Jerry said that around mid-morning he started having the feeling that he should get back to me as quickly as possible. It bothered him for a short while, and then he submitted, grabbed some work and returned to my house. When he came in, he found me on the couch, semi-conscious and quite out of it. He said that he ran downstairs, got on his knees, and asked the Lord to help him know what he should do. Immediately the answer came to get me to the hospital. 

He piled me into the car and went directly to the emergency room where I was treated for medication overdose. I was pretty much gone. After they treated me and got things working again, I was committed to the psych ward at McKay-Dee Hospital, where I underwent treatment for suicide. Tina visited me a couple of times that I remember. She told me that she loved me, but that she could no longer live this way and that I needed to be free. I remember a couple of people, but not a lot about the experience. I was very heavily drugged and have lost a lot of memory of that time. 

I have spent the last year trying to regain my life, my memory, and most of all, some sense of value. I have wanted to die so many times. I am lonely and hurt and tired. I don’t understand why I have had to go through all of this, though recently I have come to a space of calm and peace. You see, I am no longer trying to be something that I cannot be: a heterosexual man. For the first time in my life I am able to say, I am a spiritual man, I am a gifted man, I am a loving man, I am a masculine man, and I am a gay man. And the fact that I am gay in no way negates or takes away the value of any of those other things. 

I have spent my lifetime being an abomination, unclean and unworthy, a being with no value; I have spent my lifetime waiting to die, because that was the only way it would be different. Now my glass is no longer half empty, but rather, half full. I plan to fill the rest of it with living, acceptance, and unconditional love for myself and those around me. There are so many of us — gifted, loving, spiritual and bright homosexual men who have either wasted our lives or taken our lives because somewhere, at some time, our society, our church, or our family has taken away our value. I am not an abomination or unclean. I have value and integrity. I am a homosexual and I know that if I am a loving man, and live a loving life, Father In Heaven and the Savior will take care of me. I have to trust and believe this, in the deepest part of my soul, and I know it is true.