Born into a bigoted, fundamentalist, socialite Southern family, Brian Willermen didn’t see the world as those around him.  Unfortunately those around him didn’t accept that.  Imagine being abused by your peers, outcast by your church, and abandoned by your family for who you think is beautiful, for having an open mind.  The Bisexual Christian Suburban Failure Enlightening Bipolar Blues is the three part story of Brian Willermen overcoming his traumatic childhood to find success within himself in a new adult world.   Below is an excerpt from Part One.  If you dig it, download Part One here…                                             Thank you.






The last time I saw my parents was in the March of the winter when I turned twenty one.  While the rest of the rich white college kids were getting drunk, I was a nervous wreck, riding the highway down to tell my honorable judge of a father his son is dropping out.

Since twenty one represents adulthood in our childish society I felt the time arrived for me to grow up to the man who reared me, let him know despite his gay to straight Christian conversion camp attempts to end my sexual attraction to males, I’m still as gay as the first day of spring and want no part in his horror movie version of my life.

Don’t think I didn’t try my hardest to be the big dick, meat eating, Johnny American Football, give it to her hard all night long, beer drinking Sunday Christian, Alpha character he wanted.  Don’t think I only tried for him, I tried for me.  For God-sakes, second grade to senior year my life in Greer, South Carolina was all ridicule, shame, pain, name calling, physical abuse, and nightmares.

One night after hours of uncontrollable crying my father came into my room.  Instead of yelling shut up bitch like normal, he sat on the bed beside me like a politician, explaining if I went to his Alma Mater, joined his fraternity, and did what was right, he’d pay for my college and my struggles would end.  According to Judge Jackson Willermen all my problems were caused by my sin.  In his eyes I could simply stop being a faggot and my family wouldn’t hate me, my peers wouldn’t abuse me, I wouldn’t have mental disorders or drop so many passes at the family reunions.  Deeply desiring to be accepted by him and sadly aching for a normal life… I agreed.        

Yes I gave up who I wanted to be, my creative dreams, and my desires.  Yeah I still hate me for it too.  But on my first day of college I arrived to the University of South Carolina as the role my father wanted me to play.  No more flirting with boys or hugging trees or dancing naked to Animal Collective.  No more baking vegan treats or feng shui fashion design or Anime.  No more piercings or pet hamsters or tears or feelings or showing fucking emotions at all.  Yep, nothing but boobs, butts, beers, fist fights, and frat parties from now on. Did I enjoy the late night brotherhood hazing, forced to eat grapes out of my pledge brothers’ butt holes?  Sure, but that’s a different story.                         This story is how I can’t tell straight bullshit American college graduate business class banker suck sess story anymore.  I tried dad, goddammit mom, brother, sister, fucking society, I tried.  I swallowed the blue pill.  It didn’t work.  After two and a half years of trying my hardest to change my body chemistry, of playing macho macho man, of bench pressing, of football games, of keg stands, of trying to “fuck bitches”, of sarcasm, of objectifying women, of business class; there I was driving home to tell my father I am no longer willing to live his lie.  Also the male dean of the English Department at his beloved Gamecock Alma Mater and I are shacking up.  Hmm… maybe I could leave that part out.

The part my heart knew I could not leave out is where the inspiration for this desire to be nakedly honest came from, my family’s official Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  My father raised me in the hellfire of the Southern Baptist Church and the only thing that made any sense to me even as a child was Jesus.  The Southern Baptists worshipping Jesus, those lunatics were hateful, homophobic, hypocritical, gluttonous, gangrene bean rotting, racist rednecks while Christ remained pure, powerful, devoted, wise, compassionate, and omnipotent, walking around miracle making with no shoes on.

That seemed the dream life to me which is why growing up I wanted to be like Jesus.  Why wouldn’t you?  Hundreds of confused, scared, sad idiots praying to one miracle maker, I never desired to be the idiot; I wanted to be like the miracle maker they’re begging to.  I didn’t want to be the frantic, shallow breathing brute on his knees crying oh Jesus, Lord I’m so unworthy of, please have mercy on my soul, I pooped my pants again.   Forget that.  I wanted to be the long haired, chill angel in the bright sky who’s all here’s a fresh pair of pants, ask and ye shall receive homie.  Forget asking someone else for guidance, I wanted my own superpowers.  Forget needing to be healed, I wanted to do the healing.  Forget being born again, I wanted to raise the dead.

God forbid you mention that to my father or any of the Bible belt choking Christians I grew up with, I did and they freaked.  No devil boy, that’s blasphemy, you go to hell for that, you can’t be like Jesus for he’s the only son of God.  What am I the stranded hillside, adopted Chinese cousin of God?  How does that make sense?  It just does and you gotta believe or else you burn in hell.  What they meant by hell is the fucking mental institutions and the goddamn gay to straight Christian conversion camps they sent me to.  You don’t eternally burn in those places, but you do have your brain electrically shocked and drugged unnecessarily heavily.

Damn… remembering my childhood is a living nightmare.  Once my puppy Seismograph kept throwing up under my bed.  I didn’t want my perfect lil’ pup to be sick so I did what I thought Jesus would do; I crawled under and put my hands on his heart while imagining him healthy.  I don’t exactly know why it just came natural, but I know ten minutes later Seismograph is in the backyard chasing his tail like a rollercoaster.  I walk up to my mom smiling, I’m like Jesus mommy, I put my hands on Seismograph and healed him.  Next thing I know I’m in a dried out, sterile room with an infertile state psychiatrist telling me the difference between what’s real and imaginary.  I’m six.

Another time I’m walking out of Sunday School and I tell pops Jesus is beautiful like mommy.  His face solidifies with horror and he responds real gruff like no son, Jesus is not beautiful, Jesus is your Lord and Savior, he’s feared and respected, women are beautiful, not men.  I respectfully disagreed, explaining the feelings I get from looking at a woman I received from Jesus.  Next thing I know I’m in the dumb damp dismal basement of Republican Baptist Church being whooped by a belt. (For homophobe parents – if you are not cool with your son finding men beautiful – don’t take him to a basement, pull his pants down, and beat him with a belt – it only adds to his sexual confusion.)  After that my father sends me to my first Christian conversion camp where they show me images of men while tasing my undropped balls.  I am seven.

Also I got molested later at one of those camps by a sick, repressed, tucked in khaki Christian Counsel…
Hold on.  You’re right.  I’m sorry.  You don’t want to hear this.  We’re just getting to know each other.  I don’t want to freak you out or depress you already.  I’m not too fond of people who tell you all this horrible shit when you first meet them either.

Ok, where am I?  Oh yeah, I’m explaining my drive home on my 21st birthday to tell my father I’m dropping out and still attracted to dudes.  No, no I passed that. I was telling you Jesus was my inspiration.  Yeah, that’s where I am.

I never thought I enjoyed learning since what we learn in school never appealed to me.  I felt school missed something vital to our education like who are we andwhat the fuck is the point of life.  The only reason I made good grades was my father’s belt beating me when I made below an A.  However, when I came to college I realized I loved learning, just not what school forced me to.  Since I didn’t have my father’s closed closet door mind lodged up my ass I had the freedom to learn what I wanted.  I wanted to learn about the man who I was forced to worship, the man people said was sending me to hell, the man with people praying to him; the alleged son of God, Jesus Christ.  I read the New Testament, books about Jesus that didn’t make the cut of the Bible, and books by people who aren’t terrified of hell.  From reading I deduced one simple thing; Jesus Christ is not more powerful than you or me or anyone else only more in touch with the Unconditional Love inside us all, the creator of all things which we call God.  Jesus even said we will be greater than him.

As I spent less time at frat parties and more time alone focusing on that Unconditional Love, I started to feel it inside myself.  I realized it is the very life force pulsating through my body, through all bodies, through all life.  Seeing myself through the eyes of this Unconditional Love I consciously understood that not only am I an extension of it but I have my own access to it and can use it to create my life the way I want it to be.  Not the way my father wants or anyone else for that matter.

Do you feel Unconditional Love within you?  I know it can be hard in a society of unconditional judgment but I swear to what you find sacred I could feel that Love within me consciously like a second heartbeat, an Unconditional Love adoring me no matter my sexuality or if everyone else hates me, that very Unconditional Love I always felt deeper down but was afraid to fully embrace due not trusting myself and caring what others think.

Driving down that open road on my 21st, blaring Blue Suicide, I was finished worrying what others thought especially daddy.  I was ready to trust that Unconditional Love within me.  I knew Unconditional Love didn’t want me to live in fear.  My Unconditional Love knew my life is a sacred gift for me so there is no reason to waste it for someone else.  This Love wanted me to be honest with my father from a place of Unconditional Love.   Dad, thank you for helping create me but I can no longer be afraid of who I am or you.  I agree  women are incredibly sexy, but I also enjoy sex with men.  I do not believe I am going to hell for it and I can’t risk my happiness due to what you think you think.  I quit your immature racist homophobic fraternity.  I’m glad you enjoyed the University of South Carolina but I’m not.  I don’t care if the Gamecocks lose every football game.  You know the guy who you claim is your Lord and Savior; well I truly want to walk in the light of Jesus Christ and not hide behind him to express my homophobic hateful family values.  I love you but it is my life, not yours.  If you didn’t want me to have my own you should’ve changed your views to pro choice.   

Face to face in that living room to deliver that message to that abusive lie of a man, the deep rooted fear he beat into my childhood proved too prevalent and I did not access my Unconditional Love.  Instead I stood timid, terrified and said daddy; I’m sorry, I’m still gay and I’m so sorry but I dropped out of school because I want to be like Jesus then cried as if admitting to a crime I didn’t commit.  Fuck me for the power I let that piece of blackhole shit have over me.  Do you allow a shit person to have power over you?  I am sorry cause it sucks.

What am I thinking?  I’m sorry.  I’m a rude host.  I haven’t paid any attention to you.  Hi, how are you?  Can I get you anything?  Glass of water?  Shoeshine? Do you need to get yourself anything?  Fresh air?  Vibrator?  Are you enjoying this?  Its not depressing you too much is it?  I want you to feel great from our interaction.  I know your time is money so I’m honored you’re chilling with me.  I promise I’m not wasting your money.  I truly want to inspire you to inspire yourself to inspire others.

I acted like a little bitch and my father treated me like one.  The second the words came sailing out he lifted me up, performed a WWF move on me, slammed my head into the flat screen, and strangled me from behind.

Erotic behavior from such a straight God fearing Christian alpha uptight white man, I have to admit, bit of a turn on.  Calm down.  Just kidding.  Don’t get your mind in a sexy uproar just yet.  If you can’t take a joke you might want to put this book down or use it to learn how.

All jokes aside, that day still haunts me with my mom in the corner of the living room not helping me, just screaming Brian, look what you made him do as I gasp for air from the hands of my father.  After the choking stopped, he took the keys to my car, told me I wasn’t his child, threw me out of his house by my neck, and said if I ever came back he’d murder me.

The funny thing is it only made me want to be like Jesus more.  Is that crazy to you?