How I Lost My Faith . V - Return to faith...sort of

In 2005 I was diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder and learned that the symptoms—mood swings, deep depression, etc.—usually kicks in during one's early twenties.

My return to the Kingdom Hall in early 1985 occured when I was 22 years old.  That return also marked the beginning of over 30 years of guilt and shame over being someone or something that Jehovah God could never approve of, and 30 years of bipolar episodes where, for six to eight months I would be the consummate Witness, only to give way to six to eight months of hanging out at gay bars, getting drunk and getting laid.  This pattern repeated itself ad nauseum until I was finally disfellowshipped in 2008.

But, despite the pain, I was convinced that the Witnesses had the "Truth" and I would eventually win out over my carnal side, so I kept trying despite my inherent weakness.  Because I was not yet baptized (not until 2001), the Witness friends I'd made in Denver showed, for the most part, exceptional patience and love and did their best to include me in activities, including, at one point, the chance to go door-to-door with them in their preaching work.  Back then, they allowed non-baptized Bible students to accompany them as "observers" (a practice they no longer endorse) and I took to it like a fish to water.  Unfortunately, the unwanted sexual cravings I'd kept buried during this time began to resurface and I left the company of the Witnesses for that of other gay guys, shutting down the spiritual side of me for the next six to eight months, until the pendulum swung back in the other direction, leading to my return to the Kingdom Hall again.

This pattern repeated itself over and over for the vast majority of my adult life.  Everytime I returned to "the Truth," I was certain this was the last time, that this was where I was supposed to be and I would move heaven and earth to stay there.  That certaintly always failed to last, and it got to the point a number of times that I wanted to end the struggle once and for all; I could not live like that any longer.

When I was diagnosed with AIDS in 1989, my outlook changed dramatically, and all the things I wanted to accomplish, especially getting baptized, suddenly needed to be done NOW.  I'd been told by my doctors that I only had two or three years to live, and if I wanted to insure my place in God's Kingdom, I needed to get baptized as soon as possible.  Everything had to be compressed into a very short time-frame and I was bound and determined to make it happen.

It did not, nor did I die as the doctor's had said I would.