#gayrationships

[humanitysteeped-blog]

My Fog

Once again in I’m in the fog of unbridled desire.

I’m strong in spurts, thinking I can withstand the overpowering ocean in my mind. The ocean may be my heart but the distinction between heart and mind are indistinguishable now.

I break against the waves and let them take me. Swimming against the current will kill me.

I know that your love would save me, or I’ve at least convinced myself of it.

I’m irrational and cannot convince myself that you are not the answer. And when I cannot get your love, I will look for it elsewhere. I’ll look for your love and see it everywhere that I am reminded of you.

You will inhabit every space in my head every minute of the day.

Imagining the gift of a life with you will bring me peace. It will calm me.

It kills me while it quiets the loud parts of my ocean.

I will listen to the music you like and watch the movies you love. I will read the books you read. I will share things with you when you don’t realize. And I will do this because it’s the closest I can get to you without dying or clamming up.

It is wrong that I should want you so. It is uncontrollable obsession and I would spare you that. For you to see me like this would be a crime.

So I stay in the fog. Swimming in my own filth and pain.

I won’t always love you and that is my only solace in the fog.

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Establishing Ties

Louisiana stays beautiful as planet earth rolls us into the Fall. It’s sunny and the trees are still green while we get nice little cold fronts that send all of our basic girls out of their front doors in uggs ready to consume all things pumpkin spice. This is the busiest time of year for me.

The company I️ work for rakes in almost half of the fiscal years sales in the weeks between Halloween and Christmas. Needless to say I️ haven’t actually participated in the fall events that canvass New Orleans during the fall months. I️ tell myself this is ok since I️ got to grow up here and will most likely live out the rest of my days here. I’ll have fun when I’m old: This tends to be the golden rule I️ live my life by.

I️ also tend to struggle staying upbeat and motivated in my personal life. The cold hard truth about me is my personal life has always struggled in the fall and winter months due to the fact that I️ choose to invest my energy into my professional life. This has led to a very reliable depression that sets in right after Halloween. The mind is an interesting machine in the way that it stock piles emotional experiences and connects them to sights, sounds, and yearly events. I’m aware of this pattern. I️ usually notice it coming because my normal masturbation schedule goes down to once a week and my six day a week gym schedule barely reaches three days. My clothes pile up and I️ shower and groom myself with half the commitment. Seasonal depression is what it’s called. I’m starting to wondered if I️ just need to make a point to build up my perception around this time of year....or make positive time for myself and the people around me, perhaps.

This year I️ accidentally stumbled across this little realization because of a guy. I️ feel like it’s always I️n the throws of human interaction that we learn the most about ourselves and for that reason being lonely isn’t healthy, even for introverts. Some of us learn about life by having emotionally trying interactions. Some people say I’m a hot mess, but I️ prefer to think that I’m on the accelerated crash course of life. Learn fast and hard, Boys. It’s the only way to fly.

I️t was the week before Halloween and Magazine Street was alive with the relief of approaching fall weather. I️ had been at work all day and was enjoying the business that I️ was raised to embrace. I️ was working the register to give one of my employees a break and enjoying the rare but cherished chunk of time each day that I️ get to interact with my customers. The garden district is a uniquely fulfilling place to run a business because of the perfect mix of friendly regulars and excited tourist who are touring one of the most beautiful cities on earth. New Orleans has the friendliest customers. Metairie and Mandeville do not. Just an observation from a native.

I️t is a standard in my business that we ask for customers names to write on the cups with the hopes of inspiring a repeat visit and a genuine connection. I️ picked a company that modeled my own values built around relationships and human connection.

One thing I️ like to do is ask how the customer wants their name spelled. Even if it’s simple. I️ want them to feel like their experience is personalized because I️t truly should be. But also sometimes I️ do this because the customer is cute and I️ want to keep him at my register for further banter. I’m overly obsessed with work but not dead, ladies.

I️ saw him in line behind three customers. Taller, light brown hair that could be mistaken for blond from a distance. Deep set eyes and a strong jaw. He was built yet lean. Very smart looking. He wore red Toms that didn’t match his green plaid button down and shorts. He had a book bag so but was alone so I️ assumed he was a local. My friends will tell you I️t takes a lot for me to go out of my way to be blatantly flirtatious. It’s a once a year type of event. Typically I️ like to be pursued beyond a shadow of a doubt before reciprocating. I️ don’t have time to misread the signs and create an awkward interaction that I’m going to be annoyed about later. To make this long story as short as possible I️ ended up flirting with this guy to the point of him asking me out and then spending a full twenty-four hours with him.

Best day I️n record of my life. I’ll tell you why...

As human being’s we’ve learned to keep moving through life at a very fast pace. Half of our living is done via the internet to streamline a life lived to its fullest. I️ am guilty of this. So meeting someone I️n real life and establishing rapport face to face was exciting and satisfying. If you’re wondering what ever happened to romance you may want to ask yourself when the last time your first interaction with a love interest was actually face to face. The human senses facilitate bonding with your environment. Yet we like to start our most important connections through an app that masks all sight, sound and scent. Probably not the best start.

We had dinner plans but met for lunch earlier because we obviously liked each other. I️ ended up staying with him until the next day. I️ know what you girls are thinking..I️ didn’t have sex with him for a bunch of reason. Calm down. Let I️t be noted that I️ absolutely wanted to though. I’m human.

Spending a straight (or not so straight) twenty four hour with this guys was a big deal for me. Let me break I️t down for you. I️. Do. Not. Like. To. Be. Still.

Every relationship I’ve ever had has been complicated by my need to keep moving. Don’t ask me to sit and have coffee for three hours because I️ will get stressed. I️ will get stressed and then I️ will run out of things to say which will make me more stressed and I️ will break up with you. You’ll think I’m not interested or boring or an asshole. I️n reality I’m probably obsessing about one hundred things work related. I️ live three weeks I️n the future always. I’m the guy that gets really excited about throwing a party and plans for weeks and then the day of the party I️ don’t get to enjoy I️t because I’ve already moved passed I️t to the next thing I️ want to do. I️ live planning my vacations but end up spending them thinking about everything I’m going to do when I️ get back home.

This guy got me to stop that for twenty four hours. I️ just stopped. The relief was overwhelming I️ was more rested from that day than any two week vacation I️ had ever taken. But I️ was also drained. After you run for along time stopping almost always means being very tired. You may even need to cry as a way to mentally detox.

Halfway through my twenty-four hour romance I️ was exhausted, yet peaceful. This guy had a calming affect. I️t may have been his insistence on constant physical contact and direct eye contact. Maybe I️ just had I️t coming. I️ had a headache and I️ was starting to analyze every aspect of the way I️ was feeling. I️ felt amazing but I️ also worried. He lived I️n another state and he would go back. I️ don’t do long distance relationships so I️ had no expectations for the future. He also was on leave from the military and I️ know from personal experience that leave is meant for quick romances that you have no intention of pursuing once you go back to the miserable depression of the barracks.

But I️ was very interested I️n how I️ felt I️n that moment. I️ was worried more about the new revelations I️ was having and how I️ was going to deal with them I️n the coming week.

Firstly I️t was the level of familiarity I️ felt for a guy that didn’t know at all. He constantly needed to have physical contact. Now I don’t recommend being comfortable having a guys hand on your thigh like a five-year couple right after meeting him but we were both in weird places and it’s what we needed for a day. For me I️t was different because I’m not physically affectionate with people I’ve loved for years. But after hours of having someone almost constantly holding me or some part of me I️ understood how important physical affection is because I️t facilitates bonding. I️ started thinking about my siblings and my best friends and all the people close to me that I️ knew I could be closer to if started allowing some minor physical affection. I️ started thinking about my parents and how they always struggled to build strong bonds with people and how maybe the answer all along had been to just hug the people you love.

This guy and I️ had known each other not even a day but I️ felt completely comfortable with him. Like an old friend.

While I️ was silently contemplating life and eating burgers at Cowbell with Ham he started telling me about his life, his family, and the things that he had been upset about lately. I’m not good at responding to people who are opening up about the things that are upsetting them. So I️ was mostly quiet and made sympathizing facial expressions. I️ cared though and I️ felt bad for him. I️ kept thinking that I️n any other circumstance this could have been a guy I️ could have loved one day.

As if the universe was trying to really make a point about the things I️ needed to learn I️n life the conversation moved to his tattoos. I️n particular two tattoos on his collar bones. I️t was two ears of wheat. He told me about one of his favorite children’s books: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I️n the book the little prince meets a fox who he wants to play with. The fox tells him he had to tame him first so that they can be friends. The little prince is confused about what I️t means to “tame.” The fox explains that I️t means to establish ties with someone. He says that the little prince is just a boy among one hundred thousand others and vice versa but that if the little prince tamed him he would be the only little boy I️n all the world for him. He said that you are forever responsible for what you tame and that it’s the time spent on the things I️n our lives that tame them. When I️t was time for the little prince to leave the fox said that he would weep and the little prince felt bad and told the fox that he meant no harm but the fox had insisted on being tamed. The fox agreed but said that I️t was ok because the Little prince had blond hair the color of wheat and now when he heard the wind blowing through the wheat he would be happy because I️t would remind him of the Little Prince where as before he had no use for wheat.

“So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--

Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."

Yes, that is so," said the fox.

But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

Yes, that is so," said the fox.

Then it has done you no good at all!"

It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields.”

I️ couldn’t help but think about all the people I️n my life who I️ had not allowed to tame me or who I️ had tamed but not held myself responsible for. I️ had spent so much time taming my career and my ego. I️ had watered and cared for my reputation and my social standing. And I️ also couldn’t help but wonder if I️ was mistakenly allowing myself to be tamed right there at the Cowbell by a boy who I️ very likely would not see again. For this reason I️ decided to give myself fully to this affair. I️ slept over at his friends house with him. We slept on the tiny beat up couch he was crashing on for the week. We took turns being the big spoon.

I️ didn’t sleep much because I️ was trying very hard to understand something about myself. Going forward exactly what work was I️ going to do I️n my personal life to hold myself responsible for those I️ had tamed? Had my botched personal relationship suffered because of my unwillingness to be tamed? And if so what could I️ change about the way I️ “established ties” with the people I️n my life.

The following day we went and had coffee and sat there for almost two hours. He worked on something to do with college after the military and I️ enjoyed a day off reading the news. I️t was quiet but comfortable. I️ was drained and relaxed. He was leaving the next day and I️ had to go back to work. I️ knew the fling was coming to an end and I️ was preparing for the adjustment I’d have to make to my approach as a human being. Life always has you learning.

He dropped me off at my car. I️t was awkward. He came into my work twice more before he left and asked me to sit with him and talk. The conversation lagged. I️ sensed that he was feeling depressed about going back to base and leaving home or that he had lost interest I️n me now that reality had to set back I️n. I️ wasn’t upset. I️ wasn’t ready to process anything though. He told me he hated goodbyes because they made coming home more painful and that he’d be back. I️ faked a chuckle and I️ told him I’d see him later. I️ haven’t talked to him in awhile. I️ try not to stalk him on Facebook because that’s unhealthy. I️ unfollowed him because if I️ ever meet him again I️ want I️t to be I️n real life like we met the first time. But even if I️ never see this guy again I️ think I’ll always remember and appreciate the things I️ learned I️n twenty-four hours. I’ll most likely always compare my future dates to his level of attentiveness and honesty. I️t took me about two weeks to get back into my work routine. I’ve been taking at least one of my days off to just be still. I’ve also contemplated making my sister hug me when I️ see her because I think I️t truly is important to be affectionate with the people you love now.

I️n the little prince he started the store by leaving his rose behind and at the end the author wonders if he ever made it back to his rose or if the Rose was eaten by the sheep when the little prince left I️t at the beginning of the story. The little prince had told the author “People have stars, but they aren't the same. For travelers, the stars are guides. For other people, they're nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they're problems... But all those stars are silent stars. You, though, you'll have stars like nobody else... since I'll be laughing on one of them, for you it'll be as if all the stars are laughing. You'll have stars that can laugh!... and it'll be as if I had given you, instead of stars, a lot of tiny bells that know how to laugh.”

I️ think I️ may always wonder about the guy and if he finished school when he got out of the military or if he found the person who was his rose and if he allowed himself to be tamed and tamed I️n return.

I️ think this was one of the most beautiful and real experiences I️n my life and I️ rightfully cried when I️t was all over. Not out of sadness but because of how overwhelmingly beautiful life is and how appreciative I️ am to be reminded of what should be important to me.

“One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed.”

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

[humanitysteeped-blog]

An Ode to Connections:

I distinctly remember the moment my parents and I disconnected. I think we were always disconnected but I remember the moment it was served to me plain as day on platter called resentment. My dad and I were arguing and I eventually broke down crying and asked him why him and my mom always seemed to be uncomfortable around me. I asked him why he never talked to me about anything even though I had worked with him all day, everyday in his restaurant since I was thirteen. Being homeschooled made this possible. I was eighteen at the time and I'll never forget the hollow lonely realization pour over me as he looked me in the face and told me we had no relationship because I wasn't a Christian anymore. I had recently expressed doubt about my desire to live the reformed baptist lifestyle and my parents saw this as a reason to withdraw any emotional attachment to me. The funny thing is that my relationship with my father has been the same since I was five so his reasoning during this conversation was an excuse. Very recently the same conversation happened between my sister and my parents. They told her from then on their relationship with her would be "shallow." I'm going to tell you now there's nothing more hopeless and devastating that having your parents tell you they have no real relationship with you because you don't agree with their theology. I think this was harder for my sister because she at least enjoyed some closeness with them where I did not. Talking to my sister about this was difficult for me because I tend to be outraged when my siblings are hurt. Twenty-seven years of bitterness that I thought I had moved past reared its ugly head and I wanted to go to my parents house and give them the Sicilian tongue-lashing they raised me with. After the coffee date with my sister I began to think back on all the things I learned from my parents and all of the things that bound me to them. The list is short and sad. In fact my connection to my parents on an emotional level is non-existent at best. Once I let go of the overwhelming desire to win their respect, approval or whatever it was I had almost nothing to validate the desire to keep them in my life. A sons obligation to visit his parents and update them on the surface events of my life keep me around them week to week. I care about them but I can't say I wouldn't be able to live without them. I think that's really sad. I think my relationship with my parents is a good representation of most of my parents relationships. The friends they had when they were young, their families, their kids. All similar. Very surface, shallow. They lack human connection. So it's a small wonder that they told me every friend I had would fade away because I was gay or that I would never have real relationships....that was actually their experience with all of their relationships. Every "family" they built at every church they switched to eventually faded to pleasant acquaintance once they moved on to the next church family. After realizing this I couldn't help but wonder what defines a deeper connection with another person. What difference is there between my friendly acquaintances and the people that will always be close to me no matter where I go or what I do. What exactly is that strong bond of family and what is it made out of? And more importantly, what can keep a person from being able to develop these types of connections? When I was a young man fresh out of my parents house I was completely lacking any substantial connections. I had a lot of friends but we connected on a very superficial level. These were the people I partied with, went to dinners with, enjoyed festivals and worked out with. They were good friends but still fair-weathered friends. These type of friends make up the majority of our connections and these are good friends to have because you can share and experience life's excitement and happiness with them. The problem was these were my ONLY type of friends. I didn't see a problem with this. A normal healthy person has at least one or two people in their lives that they can be vulnerable with. These are the friends that you tell how you feel. These are the friends you don't feel uncomfortable about calling when you need help or need to vent. These are the friends that understand your moments of weakness are just that. They don't judge you for needing to fall apart or for sharing your craziest parts. That's a connection. I had no friends like this. I think our parents often set the tone for how we relate and connect with ourselves as well as other people. Not only did I not understand the concept of forging unique and strong bonds with people, but I also had no clue how to be open and intimate with myself. I was one of those people who could convince himself that he wasn't upset when he clearly is. Lying to ourselves is the most harmful thing we can do to the people around us. Bad interpersonal skills can keep us from ever being able to connect with anyone in a real way. I saw this in my parents growing up. This is why it's important to figure yourself out before getting married and having kids....your lack of self awareness can ruin lives. I was 19 when I went on a road trip with my best friend. This friend today is literally a sister to me and I trust her more than anyone. It was from going on a road trip with her and then later living with her that I learned about having connections with people. Real connections...the name we use for this is "relationship." For the first time I understood that a relationship is defined by trust and acceptance. We didn't agree on everything and yet it never caused any problems. When we did get in arguments she always made sure she came back and told me "hey! we're still best friends, fucker. You don't stop being friends just because shit gets hard." I needed this ideology in my life. The way I had grown up you were only valued as long as you met the requirements. Because of this I dropped friends and relationships as soon as there was even the slightest bit of tension or disagreement to avoid the rejection and loss that comes from not meeting other people's expectations or ideals. I came to the conclusion that what defines a relationship is the complete acceptance and trust between me and another person. It's through sharing the less pretty sides of yourself and seeing those parts loved and supported just as much as the awesome parts of yourself that creates the safety and bliss of human connection. And the funny thing is that only comes from sharing. You only get that by opening up and investing and then returning that attitude of acceptance and understanding. This changed who I spent my time with and how I picked my friends. I owe my friend/sister a great debt for exposing me to a real flesh and blood connection. I'm a lot healthier because of it. Thinking about this stuff brings me back to my parents and what happened to them to have them build such walls between themselves and any possible connections. I think there are thousands of reason why we are who we are and I don't know if anyone can even try to navigate and break down another persons story. The closest I can get is this: you can't avoid the things that hurt. You can't ignore how you feel about something even if you think it's dumb. You have to validate your feelings and the feelings of those around you. You have to recognize your fears and the fears of others. You have to look at yourself in the mirror and be ok with what you see. I've dated so many guys who are critical of everything they don't enjoy or agree with. Sometimes not sharing common ground with someone is scary and stressful because we want to control the narrative. This is why we belittle and poke fun at things we don't understand. We can't just enjoy what other people love. We live in a selfish one-sided world where we can only connect with people who are exactly like us because difference means you aren't driving the bus. I've realized that it's the differences that make the most fulfilling relationships and the deepest connections. Your friends and lovers balance you out and make you whole. If you only surround yourself with people just like you it's highly likely that you will always be stagnant and always sort of sad and lost. It's through connection and openness that you will thrive. Only through human connection can you find happiness because that's what we evolved to do. We are a bonding species. I think this is why the Bible said to love each other...everyone. Not just those who make you feel like you're as right as you've always believed you are. I sometimes want to take my dad out for coffee and ask him to tell me all about his life. Not his beliefs, but the things he did and felt and experienced. I'd want to listen to those things and be able to show him that I don't judge him. Sometimes even the most infuriating people are only that way because never in their life has anyone ever just sat and listened to them and proved to them that being a human isn't a disease, it's a gift. There's so many people in this world that still haven't figured out that their worth isn't in what they put on display, it's in the dirty broken stuff that formed them into something unique and strong. I have one objective in life. I have one wish that I think about every day. I wish that everyone I meet will be able to look into my eyes and know that whoever they are, no matter what they've done or how they look...I accept them. I want to know how they've gotten where they are and how they feel. I want to be a safe space. This world will break your heart over and over again. There will always be people who try to destroy your spirit for no other reason than because they are afraid and insecure. Get brave, get secure. Look at yourself and be honest about yourself because you are the only thing that can help save the world and you can only do that by seeing people and empowering them. Support, include, inspire, recognize, and appreciate...delight. If you can't get down with celebrating the humanity in other people than it's highly likely that you are still struggling with your own in some way. If that's the case I hope you'll talk to someone about it. Anyone. That's the only way to get out alive...by sharing...by connecting.

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Party Down:

One of the cons of being an ambitious twenty-something these days is the non- stop emotional constipation. For weeks at a time you put inordinate amounts of energy towards the things you prioritize-Work, health, being social, and hygiene. The journey to self actualizing is often misguided and forced. You gotta get to where you want to be as soon as possible so you can then rest. Some people call this the rat race, some call it “the man.” (Honestly what’s more withholding and full of unrealistic expectations than a man? Can I get an amen, girls?) The problem with this is the inevitable diarrhea of your emotions. Your head eventually will need to take a dump and almost always… alcohol is involved. Or at least it was for me this particular weekend. I partied and then partied down. If you’re like me, you fill your schedule and then some -you tend to put actual health on the back burner. Things like self reflection, properly confronting emotional conflict and resolving issues that cause you stress. We say going to the gym relieves stress but in all actuality it’ll never be as efficient as emotional regulation and psychological exercise. Especially if you’re a gay guy with years of practice at emotional repression and a thousand other psychological defense mechanisms. Our nervous systems are shot. True to form one particular Saturday after having given up me weekend off to work a morning shift at my store I was driving home slightly overwhelmed and drained. I should have seen the signs as I scrolled through Spotify looking for high powered party themes instead of my usual Stevie Wonder/ Elton John commute playlist. Halfway through a popular Justin Timberlake song I had already formulated my well thought-out Saturday evening plan and also true to form - at 6pm I was in front of my best girlfriends house dressed to the nines ready to have the type of night most girls live for. This was my brain preparing for its bowel movement that consisted of 7 months worth of ignored emotional build up. Dressed to impress and ready laugh we made our way up to The Bulldog on Magazine which had always been one of my favorite spots. My friend and companion for the evening (we’ll call her Mrs Aussie, for personal reasons) used the drive time to fill me in on her personal life. As if my brain had somehow signaled to her what our mood was going to be she wove me a tale that was stuffed with emotional constipation. Her boyfriend and her had fought a few days before over something seemingly simple yet she was questioning the future of their relationship. See, when you just go and go the small things you ignore become serious threats to your happiness. An emotionally repressed mind is a dramatic one by default. This was my perfect distraction because I love people’s stories. It also kept the conversation lively. We talked all night at The Bulldog before heading to Superior Grill for margaritas at 10pm. Our conversation was deep and hilarious because it’s me. We laughed a lot. We complained about how dumb guys are and ultimately made the age-old superficial promise to grow old together. Continued repression and interpersonal dishonesty is fantastic for keeping on a straight face. Because we both knew that our fulfillment would eventually come from one day shacking up with a guy who would be our best buds with whom we would establish mutual respect and trust with. Sometimes we need to lie to ourselves about the things that will really make us happy in order to protect ourselves from being hurt. By 10:30 we were finally filled and boozed and ready to catch a ride to a birthday event for our former co worker. It was during this trip that I felt it. I knew the big shit was coming. Alcohol has a way of loosening you up in more ways than one. Mrs Aussie in all her Downtown girl glory complained about my Uptown Boy taste in music so we switched genres which helped me stave off the unavoidable outpour. It’s funny how something as simple as music can be a comfort zone that, when changed, can help you in your endeavor to push back any type of personal progress. A long car ride and ten dollars at the jukebox later… I was fired up on tequila and corona and thoroughly enjoying the birthday event for one of the most incredible lesbians I know. (As if they aren’t all incredible.) The party was obviously great and there was plenty of laughter which is a requirement for me to want to stay out past 11pm other than a solid make out session. By 1am I was done. I’d played out and laughed all my energy away. I’d released any angst and obstinance that had fueled the last years drive towards my goal of being amazing and seemingly well grounded and also of being the next of my cousins to open their own restaurant and/or bar in the city. My composure was absolutely slipping in the smoke filled atmosphere of a small Northshore billiard bar. I had played Sweet Painted Lady by Elton John and this song usually triggers me. I started thinking about things I hadn’t give a nod to as of yet. I thought about the boyfriend who had cheated on me five years ago and how that changed me. I thought about the fact that I was engaged to a guy I wasn’t very attracted to and then left him eight month earlier and how I never really had cried about it. I thought about my own growth and how even though I let things go when I can’t control them-they still hurt. All the these thing that I used to define myself as strong and well grounded were the things that had made me an emotional train wreck who never really gave anyone two minutes of seeing me as just regular ole Pepperoni. All of this started to creep in my head and I felt that weird clamping at the back of my throat. “Well shit, I think I’m gonna cry.” Mrs Aussie of course went into full fledged best friend mode and started telling me about how handsome and worth it I would be for any guy as if somehow I was going to be crying over any man in public. If I cry in over a boy it’ll prob be in the shower a year after we parted ways. That’s just me. I wanted to explain to her it wasn’t about anyone but me and who I’d become and who I had been and who I wanted to be. It wasn’t altogether negative, it’s was just the natural release of emotional thoughts and calculations that I’d been saving and needed to let out. So I ditched. Fully sober at this point I drove home and put my comfort music back on as I did. I was ready. I knew what was coming and I had my gym towel in the bag on my passenger seat. I was partying down. And so, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I pulled up to my house, parked and cried like a baby for 30 minutes. It did not feel good. My head was pounding and I knew the next day I’d be hungover as well and emotionally toasted. But here’s the thing, I got my head straight about a lot of things. Not all of it, but a lot. And I didn’t feel as stressed or upset. And that’s important. Letting it out is important. Society tells us a man shouldn’t do this. That’s why alcoholism and violence are so common for guys…no skills involving emotional regulation. Essentially men are children wether it’s crying, barfights, or the silent treatment- guys aren’t very developed in the area of working that emotion muscle out. That’s a problem today because I feel like the only way to develop fulfilling connections with people is by being able to engage in healthy adult communication and being emotional intimate or vulnerable. I realized this was a fault of mine as well so I cried more and vowed that no matter how weird it may make me seem, I would be open and willing to be vulnerable with people….so I didn’t have to ever take another emotional shit like this again. But also because I want to slow down and enjoy my life and maybe one day share it with someone in a very real and quiet way. Isn’t that what we all want? So here I am starting over sort of. Ready to tackle this coming week with ferocity and stillness of mind. Openness of heart. To be honest I’ll probably do this twice more this year. I’m a slow learner.

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed. And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybdy else,but guess what? Sunday is my favorite day again” -Mathew Quick

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Growing Up Godly:

A few months after my seventeenth birthday I made a video for my parents. I mostly made it for my mom because I didn't think my Dad would really react to it. I used all the pictures from their honeymoon and wedding. I layered it with emotional transitions and movement affects. I used all my moms favorite songs from her youth. My mom love 70's music. I think even today 70's music isn't dead in New Orleans yet. It's 2017. I think New Orleans was just really good in the 70's and 80's so it stayed there, stuck in time for awhile. It's just starting to change in great ways but for me and my family the older stuff represents a nostalgia that is linked to every great time we've had as a family. And those songs have been present through the generations, linking all our great memories to great memories that half of us weren't even present for. When my mom watched it she teared up. I get a lot of pleasure out of sharing things with people that make them happy. I felt fulfilled that I had done something nice for my mom. Seventeen year-old me was still very devoted to pleasing my mother. I wasn't gay yet, I worked 60 hours a week. I ran my parents restaurant with them in an experienced, efficient way to make my parents proud of the little martyr that had forgone all worldly experiences to become a man far sooner than most seventeen year olds. Still, the cold nature of my parents inspired me to keep pleasing and fighting for their affection because it was so fleeting. My slideshow was a successful anniversary gift for my parents. Having turned to extreme forms of Protestantism when I was twelve, my parents had verbally shunned their worldly past and only allowed things that were deemed "godly" into their lives. Reformed Baptists, they called themselves. For my mom the exception to the rule was 70's music. Sometimes on Saturday's when the restaurant was closed we'd run errands and she'd sing and dance to her old tunes. I loved when she'd do that because I could connect with her in those moments. They made her human. My parents always stuck out in their inner circles. Their church friends were often not from Louisiana and slightly more refined. I'm proud to say my parents were a little more gritty than their friends. They were very real people who spent their lives trying not to be. Both raised in the city streets of New Orleans by Catholic immigrant families, they were emotional, driven and partiers by nature. The accumulation of Cajun French, Sicilian, and Irish blood made up a very dramatic and broken family dynamic in our house. But no one ever really knew about it. We'd go to church and sit up straight and speak the appropriate religious verbiage when engaging. At home we fought and screamed and broke things when life got stressful. We'd cry and curse each other out and then piss ourselves laughing half way through because we knew we were ridiculous. Growing up this confused me but I appreciate it now. My parents still pretend though. I think they'll always have to to be happy. I'll always know who they really are, though. And even though they may be ashamed I'll always love how broken and interesting it is to be part of a dirty immigrant family who originated from St Bernard Parish and the Irish Channel. I don't think any of our origins are "Godly." And I don't think godliness comes from acting on things that can be labeled as worldly or otherwise. I'd have to say godliness is a state of the heart. It's deeper and more automatic. Like your heart and lungs. The rest is just who you are. My mom, having been moved by my gift, wanted to show it to everyone. At church the following Sunday she insisted that I pull out my laptop and show all her church friends. This made me feel ten feet tall because moments where my mom bragged on me were rare. It was a good day. My mom sat directly infront of the screen even though she normally would move and allow others to enjoy. This body language told me she was proud of the gift. Her southern baptist friends watched with stone cold faces as the secular 70's music wove a tale from the past about two people quietly in love. I felt the tension build and began to sweat. I love my mother but I knew the peer pressure was more than she could withstand. Turn on the social heat and my mother can sometimes forget she even has children to protect from the cruel world. Her friends, out of politeness, watched, but into the second song of the slideshow I could see my moms Stoney expression. Her face was red and I saw embarrassment in her eyes. Thinking back I get so sad because I hate to see anyone feeling uncomfortable or embarrassed. At the time all I felt was anger because I knew what was coming. My mom frowned and I was ready to fight. I get angry when I'm hurt. I think that's the case for most of us even if we can't say it. Sometimes I wonder how easy all of our relationships would be if we were willing to be honest when we were angry and just say "I'm hurt that you did or said this." I watched as my mom grimaced and then she asked in the most condescending way possible "Where did you get this music?" She asked this as if I had gotten an old Natalie Cole album from a drug dealer who was trying to expose me to the sins of the world. This was literally the music that had played in all my families restaurants since I was born so I was angered by her fake innocence. Of course me being her child I reacted -fueled by my Sicilian passion and my Irish temper. If she was going to throw me under the bus I was going to embarrass her. This was our relationship; a constant pissing match. Needy and dysfunctional. My reply was nonchalant but only she knew what I was doing. "Oh, this is just what I listen to all the time on my iPod." She may wanted to be viewed as the embodiment of what mainstream conservative reformers defined as motherhood but I was going be damned sure that everyone knew I was the dirty teenager that listened to non Christian music on an iPod unsupervised. She sarcastically rolled her eyes and said "oh, well that's nice." as she shut the laptop and changed the conversation. It was in this moment that I experienced a fury so powerful in my chest that I had to go to the bathroom as I fantasized about burning the building down. I was so angry. The truth is I was devastated and extremely hurt but emotional regulation and being in touch with your feelings isn't something we were raised with. Looking back now it's funny to me. I love my mom, she's funny and broken like everyone else. I don't blame her for how she handled that. I know how susceptible she is to the pressure of her version of society. She's a conformer to her own social subculture even if she thinks her lifestyle is her being bold and brave. She is who she is and I love almost everything about her. Remembering this story got me thinking about how so many children of the extremely religious end up leaving their parents faith for awhile. I've seen kid after kid break their parents hearts. I was one of those kids. And while leaving was the best thing I could have done for my relationship with myself and with my parents, I sometimes wonder how different the transition from dependent teenager to independent adult would be if a parent placed a higher value on the relationship with their child than on the lifestyle choices the child adheres to. Many kids leave and make themselves new only to return to the original lifestyle but with more healthy relationship habits. Some leave and the bond between parent and child is broken for good. I notice this more in extreme fundamentalist families. Also the rate of personality disorders, addiction and impulse control problems is rampant in fundamentalist children. Why is this? What makes the difference between a kid leaving his or her parents religion but growing/ figuring themselves out and a child leaving and falling apart. I sometimes think this has to do with bonding. As human beings we all have an innate need to bond. It's said that if we can't bond with the people around us, we'll bond with something less savory. I think back to my parents and what they valued. Not what they said they valued but what they actually priced with high worth. It's wasn't relationships. It wasn't kindness or humility. It wasn't their children. It was their lifestyle. All the checks and balances that were proof of their security from whatever in their past haunted them. It wasn't morality. It was things that represented a predefined and structured replacement of values. It doesn't require heart, just commitment and a lot of pride. This was why it was it was so easy for my mom to humiliate me in front of her church friends. She placed a much higher value on the lifestyle she had adhered to than she had placed on me as her child or her relationship with me. I think kids leave their religious roots when they know deep down inside that their parents faith isn't real. That their love for them wasn't real, or best very selfish and needy. It's a narcissistic thing for parents to require a growing adult to meet their egos needs in order to be loved and excepted. When people ask me if I'm bitter or resentful of my parent for prioritizing my heart last on their list or not supporting me because I'm gay. My stock answer is no because I don't want people to know that I, like everyone else, am slightly broken and a little messed up in my own way. But the truth is nobody goes through life untouched and it's important to share these things because they may help someone else. The truth is, it is possible to be healthy and move on and forgive all while still being a little angry or sad. I wouldn't expect my parents to change their beliefs for me because I wouldn't want them to expect the same of me. I value their independence and what they have done for themselves and who they are. I also value these same things in myself. And because of that I hold people accountable for how they treat the people around them, including myself. Growing godly taught me one thing. It taught me about false morality. It taught me to judge and be arrogant and I could be bitter about that if I wanted to. But I'm not. I'm not because growing up godly gave me a perfect representation of how easy it is to throw people aside and what pain can come of living in a bubble of your own arrogance and lack of empathy. In a way, I'm now hypersensitive to to the needs of others and wrestle with flaws in my character rather than flaws in my lifestyle. I don't remember anyone I went to church with caring about their character or their heart as much as they cared about gay guys getting married or women daring to speak up for their rights. I think the way I grew up was labeled as godly but actually the farthest thing from godly. I think I want to raise my kids to be godly. To love the hurting, feed the hungry, and defend the marginalized. I think I want to be godly in that way. To love without expectations or requirements. To know what I believe and who I am but not be so insecure and unsure that I have to belittle or shake my head at someone who isn't just like me. I'd like to teach my kids to love even those who don't agree and to not require compliance with their ideas in order to embrace and support people. That seems like a godly endeavor to me.