08 November 2012


I never imagined that Marriage would ever be possible as a gay man. I never imagined what it would be like to stand in front of friends and family and declare my love openly.  Marriage was one of those things I never allowed myself to consider because the actual thought of not being treated as an equal is just too much.  My life had almost seemed laid out for me. I would move to the city, into the gay ghetto, volunteer and an AIDS shelter and my friends would become my family.  If you wanted to be around other gays, you would have to work in a creative field.  I never had another thought about how things would work out for me. The fairytale ending wasn't a wedding, it was being able to be open about who I was.

It's become so common to hear hateful things about the life I was born into. As a grown man, I feel almost immune to all of the vitriol about my supposed lifestyle in the comment sections of online papers, or from politicians and talk TV because their suppositions are my  truth. As a child, I spent almost every waking minute of my life worried someone would say something, call me faggot, threaten me, or just always choose me last.  I just wanted to be ignored. (and mostly I still do).  I felt like an embarrassment to my few friends and family. I felt bad that my sisters had to have a gay little brother. I didn't tell anyone about it, nor did I have to tools to figure it out. I didn't have a book to read or a show to watch. Even now, I don't understand how kids are expected to handle the enormity of a secret like that.  My mother convinced me that I was special and I believed her when she said she was so lucky to have me as a son.  I don't think I would have made it through if I hadn't had that.  I wanted to be dead, but I could have never done that to her. I hate even typing this out because it brings me back, and even though I have made peace with it, it's still so heavy.  So much of my adulthood has been a reaction to the first part of my life.

Being able to vote No on the amendment to ban gay marriage in MN was something else I never thought I would do.  I can't describe the feeling of waiting in line for hours with others who are voting on your rights, as if you were a thing and not a person capable of loving another human being. Imagine if people were casting a vote as to wether or not you could legally be treated the same as everyone else? It can best be described as bittersweet.  I wonder what it would have meant to the 5 year old me. Having my family vote No or even Yes.  What it would have meant to hear the President say he supports gay marriage.  What it would have meant to hear Mitt Romney say he will get rid of any legislation supporting gays and lesbians and their rights to adopt, fight in the military or to get married.  What would I have felt about those commercials from outraged parents, lamenting their kids had been taught about gay marriage?  None of that would have changed how I was born, but hearing the slightest bit of support  would have given a hopeless kid some sliver to hold on to when life was almost unbearable.

I have been crying on and off the last few days thinking about the enormity of gay marriage being voted on and passing in 3 states and Minnesota's  amendment banning gay marriage being defeated.  The majority of people in those states and my state,  however slim, feel that I am equal.  The President of the United States feels that I am equal and that tender part of me that never hardened after all these years feels validated.  Even though we have a long way to go, I've never been prouder to be from Minnesota.  To everyone who is fighting  and for those who voted with me, THANK YOU!

25 October 2012

“There is only one heart in my body, have mercy on me.”
— Franz Wright, One Heart

I thought I saw you at the grocery store today.  I am used to seeing you with your boyfriend every few months, and being fine but when I realized it wasn't you, I ached in a way that surprised me.  It was physical (like i had been flexing my chest for an hour and finally released) and I wished we could be in the same space and have it all be back as it was, regardless of how stupid and unrealistic that wish is.  I'm tired of living with this feeling and the patience it requires.  If it wasn't so soft and sweet and giant, I would feel pathetic.

I was in Chicago last weekend and an older man on the same floor of the hotel as me slipped a note under my door asking if I would like to go shopping with him.  After an awkward interaction on the elevator earlier, I suspected it was a proposition for more than just an afternoon on Michigan avenue.  I wished I could tell him how sad the note made me.  I wished I could have told him that he didn't have to buy love or that I wasn't interested in material things or that I would be happy to go out to dinner with him, but that wasn't true.  He made my skin crawl in our tight shared space and I was counting the seconds until the elevator would open.  A nice suit could not hide the animal underneath, wild and searching for a sign to pounce.

Back in my room on the 24th floor, I ripped up the note while looking at the life all around me, imagining the stories playing out in front of me in the lit up windows across the sky and on the sidewalk below.  Nobody who saw me minutes earlier would ever imagine me reading this note or what it would do to me, but that's what's so perfect. None of us know , at any minute, what will happen or who will come around the corner or what they would write to you if they only had the balls to slip you a note. Who would we be if we understood the consequence of every small action? My eyes swell with water at the thought. The tenderness of life can be overwhelming but wonder turns pain and heartache into something bearable, even beautiful and for that I am grateful.

13 September 2012


It's been almost 2 years since we ended. Sometimes it feels as though it was last week. I was sitting in the bathtub last night, listening to Patty Griffin and Emmylou and for a moment, I wished that I had something tangible to represent what I went through these last few years. 

sacred space exists (the wreckage), those minutes, days, months of meditation and devotion. I wouldn't ever want to go back to that drowning feeling, but I can certainly appreciate the clarity it brought me.  It was a turning point, happiness birthed from absolute despair. I just wish there was something physical I could look at, immerse myself in and then leave. An altar I could light a candle at. I find myself needing some sort of ritual.

It was unimaginable to me then that I could see you now and not wish to rewrite our story. Two years ago, I would have done anything to keep you. That's such a shitty place to be, feeling like you need to plead your way into someone's life. I was stuck behind your boyfriend in the skyway around the holidays and he was saying "we can't wait to see you" to someone on the phone and I knew who "we" was.  I would be lying if I said it didn't sting, but not enough to spend more than a couple minutes mulling over.  I still love you, but it's no longer possessive or an excuse to beat myself up for being unlovable. I know that we both ended up in the right place and that is such a peaceful feeling.

When we met, I felt ruined.  I was dealing with my Fathers death and and juggling guilt for walking out on Richard. If someone were to relay a sad story to me, I would become their grief and then add to it.  It wasn't empathy, it was selfish.  It's something I became addicted to, mainlining another's grief.  Turning tragedy into an excuse to become the savior, or the person who narrowly escaped a similar fate.  Always inserting myself into the plot, a hanger on.  I guess I never realized how adept I was at doing it.  I resented you for always being so unflappable and happy. I want to pick up the phone and tell you that I finally understand, that your absence has offered the clarity I needed.

This last year feels like rain on a chalkboard. I can't remember any big feelings beyond smooth sailing. Day without Night. The only discipline I've held on to is meditation.  Sometimes, I feel like a walking meditation, too adept at processing my feelings to feel anything out of place. Desire feels like an impulse I have talked myself down from but I am realizing now, how much I miss out on when I do that.  An intimate experience with another which can enlarge me and take me out of my perfectly organized life.  Even the most casual encounter can remind me of what I am, what we all are, the luxury of flesh. We will all be gone before we know it.  I guess my point is, I want back in.  I'm ready to feel the weight of it again.

09 February 2012


I completed a Psychology Today quiz called "Are you Single at Heart?" and after getting 100% of the answers affirmative, I realized , I am probably not the marrying kind.  Accepting your nature is something you do when you are rapidly approaching 40.

Douglas and I are no longer together.  After 6 months of dating, it wasn't expanding beyond the "i like you a lot" phase.  I felt resentful about all the time he wanted with me and he resented me for wanting to be alone.  Perhaps I'm easy to love with candles lit, my ipod playlists filling the room or over a glass of wine, when I need to connect with someone.   On days when I live in my head, however, I am difficult to understand, so I get the confusion that Douglas had about me.  The person in the bedroom, so open, playful and warm, disappears in the morning.  I'm counting down the minutes in my head until I can be alone again.

I awoke to a full moon last night.  It hung huge and bright right outside my bedroom window and I felt guilty about not needing anyone to share it with.  I felt the pull, the wonder, and marveled at how the energy of something so far away could wake me.  If someone were sleeping next to me, would I even want to wake them?  People often don't believe me when I say I am unafraid (generally) of being alone, but these moments make me certain I am telling the truth.

During our final conversation, Douglas reminded me that I never made him breakfast, that I wasn't the life of the party and that I kept too many things to myself.  He suggested that I needed to be more open if I wanted to make things work.  (It was quite a contrast to a conversation a week earlier when he told me how awesome I was and that he loved showing me off).  Frankly, I felt like a hedgehog constantly in a ball because he was always poking at me to be something I will never be.

Don't try to turn someone into something they aren't.  Even if  you get what you want, you will resent yourself for not being satisfied.

*I used to do this silly thing as a child. I would page through GQ or the Spiegel's catalogue and pick out men that I wished were my father.  It's funny how I equated handsome faces and nice clothes with goodness.   Douglas looks like a J crew catalogue model and has all of the hobbies I thought I admired.  It's funny how often the things you think you want are exactly what you don't.

16 December 2011


When Aadam and I broke up, I wanted to talk all of the time, I wanted to hold on to whatever of us there was left, wringing the last drops of water from a spent rag. Wether it was talking to him or my friends, I was constantly talking about it, I just wasn't ready to let go.  Did I want the reason for our demise be my fault or his? I went back and forth to whatever was most satisfying, although I'm sure I wasn't any closer to the truth.

The universe came at me with a force that actually frightened me.  Buddhist philosophy boils it down to "notice that" or "I am that".  It seems simple, but when every interaction is an opportunity to see yourself in the "goodness" and "darkness" of others, it's a bit overwhelming.  My mind was going a million miles a minute.  I had spent most of my life avoiding connection.  But now, every interaction I had, however small, was an opportunity to find meaning. I wanted to discuss everything, to unravel my epiphany.  How did I become so disconnected from what I am?  One thing I am sure of is that I am a soul having a human experience. We all are.  I used to think the voice in my head was me, until I learned (through meditation) that the voice was just a manifestation of what I wanted to believe the world to be.  It was the thing that kept me separate from everything.

Lately, I have been wanting quiet.  You know, this blog was never to be a confessional, just tiny portraits, moments of my love life I might have forgotten  had I not written them down.  Sometimes it was just needing to talk my way out of feeling shitty.  I needed this.  Lately, I haven't felt like sharing every little detail of my relationship,  it all feels a bit much.  Talking about a love life that didn't have the traditional "happy" ending felt like it had some worth, could be helpful, but blogging about being happy in a traditional relationship seems silly.  I need to figure out where to take this.

I think maybe we all worry too much about things that we cannot change; a past that leaves us confused or hurt, a lover who leaves, moments we didn't leave when we should have or moments we didn't stand up for ourselves or others.  It's all temporary.  Everything is temporary.  Breathe and let it go.

Happy Holidays.  Be good to each other.


27 September 2011

I woke up to him murmuring "snuggle" somewhat gruffly into my ear.  I have come to realize in the last 2 months that it means he wants me to do the spooning. I met Douglas 15 years ago through a mutual friend. I had noticed him before over the years, although he just seemed too golden for me.   Sun kissed skin, bright eyes and easy smile.   I remember once seeing him across the bar years ago and thinking we were polar opposites. My warmth is hidden, while his was incandescent.

Whenever I was single from then on, I looked for him, but never saw him up until 8 weeks ago. We exchanged numbers and agreed to keep in contact.  The following Sunday we met for brunch and he looked so handsome it actually made me feel sick. I had this strange adrenaline rush and I felt shaky and totally off my game and couldn't really eat my breakfast. I saw something heavy in his eyes that made me think that he must had been hurt as a kid. (This strange mix of do you see me? vs. don't look too close) I felt relief to see something beyond what he was trying to make me believe, although I worried he didn't have much compassion for himself. When he texted me later that he had fun, I was a bit surprised.  I had figured I'd blown it. 

Every week we get to know each other a little more, slowly building trust.  I worry I may be past the point of any return, jumping blindly into the deep end.  We were out the other night and I looked at him across the chocolate cake on table and felt water swelling in my eyes.  He's beautiful and he's in me.

Last year at this time I was going round two with Aadam, realizing it was never going to work and that fear of being without him, shattered me. Now, he's not even in my life and I'm ok with that. I suppose I needed shattering more than I needed a boyfriend. 

I don't know where any of this will go, but I am not going to get ahead of myself.  I've learned that lesson already.

06 July 2011

the downpour reminds me to grow.

“Are you melancholy?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said, offering a slight smile “But, It’s not so bad.” 

“I like melancholy because you can still appreciate humor, see beauty and have hope. Somebody can be sad and it’s just something stupid, and you’re thinking ‘oh get over it. this is silly’ And then there’s real sadness, grief that's nearly impossible to shake.   But then, there’s something deeper than grief, that has a real poignancy to it, that comes from recognizing the delicacy of the human condition.  We can only be as happy as we are sad, but most people don’t realize that. They want to distance themselves from the sadness, only clinging to whatever slice of happiness they can grip onto. They don’t realize that all they’re doing when they pare away the sadness is shaving down their happiness, too. I suspect you aren't like most, in that regard.”

I nodded, feeling exhilarated that someone was actually seeing me, but also frightened.

“But you're also building a wall. I wonder if you realize how intimidating you are?  You’ve become so adept at deflection and distraction, and building up all this self-protection so you can hide the parts of yourself you don’t like — What I’m saying is, don’t be so damned good at it, because it might cost you an opportunity. There’s a dynamism in you that could be tremendous if applied in the right place. That’s my wish for you, that you find that path.”

29 June 2011


It was last minute, sort of.
We had set up a hundred dates in the past (the handsome guy with a beard) but they were always cancelled last minute.  I suppose neither of us were in a good place.  Those days that you are heartbroken and you hope that someone will fix you, but you are in no way ready to offer anything back and you know better than to be that selfish. When sadness is a ghost looking for a body to inhabit and you wonder which of those things you are, ghost or flesh.  that was both of us, then.  (On top of all of that, I had reservations about him being only 24)
He had randomly texted that he was in my neighborhood with friends and that I should meet him out.  I explained I was in for the night after dinner with some friends, so he asked if I would stay awake for a good night kiss.  Not exactly original, but it was exactly what I wanted. 
I had made a mix of music for us to make out to months back, so I updated it with some new Beirut, Wye Oak, radiohead, etc. (music we both like), sprayed agar wood  in the air, and lit about 16 candles. (even booty calls deserve some dignity)
His lips were soft, and the contrast next to his short beard was thrilling. I held onto his face as we kissed. The chemistry was undeniable. I grabbed his forearms as he laid on top of me and I loved how thick they were.  His face burrowed into my neck as I felt the hair at the curve of his skull, so thick and soft.
happiness/desire/connection thick in the air.  He kept telling me "you're beautiful. you're so sexy"  (words that normally make me cringe, but this time, I felt grateful).  I had faith that our thoughts were in exactly the same place, playing in the exact same tone,  getting carried away in a moment we both knew would never sustain anything longer than this.  (I think most guys have that untamed spot in them that wants to be reckless, impulsive and playful and maybe that was the excitement we were feeling?). Besides, is there anything more fun that french kissing a cute guy with your shirt off?? 
The following weeks, he burned up my phone, asking for a date. I finally agreed to meet on Friday, although I knew it probably wasn't going to stick.  He never called to confirm or cancel and the day came and went.  A couple days later I received a text about his friend being in a car accident or something and would I like to set something up again.  I didn't reply anything more than "I'm sorry".
I bumped into him this weekend and i couldn't wait to hug him.  He whispered into my ear that I was handsome and sweet and I replied with those exact same words, squeezed his forearm and walked away with the sweetest thoughts swimming in my head. He means something to me, just not the something that makes me need more and that's ok.  

15 June 2011

Sometimes the things that you love in the night, the morning will choose to forget

I've started walking around my neighborhood after sunset, smoking a cigarette. (I know, horrible. They are American Spirit ultra lights, but still).  It's spring and the sidewalks are usually wet or there is a light shower and the perfume of blooms and fresh green is intoxicating. As I light, I can hear the crackle of the burning tobacco, the pull from within my lungs, the softness of my lips and I might even slightly close my eyes as I inhale. (Momentarily, I'm back in Paris running around with a cigarette, some sort of  proof I belonged). It's poetic and cinematic and loaded with consequence and it makes me whir with life.

I'm in awe of how I could ever not notice how beautiful this all is. I'm connected, not only to the city that I spent half of my life craving, but to the people I share it with. I'm awake. I'm not sure if it's the buzz from tobacco or the act of doing something foreign that keeps me tapped into every second, every encounter, every smell.  I look up as I exhale, watching the smoke plume melt into the sky and I am fascinated by the whoosh of air, where it's been, where it's going.  It's just all so much, isn't it?

I crawl into bed and hold my hands up to my nose and a million memories wash through me. I remember the way my dads hands smelled and what they looked like and instantly he's back from the dead and I have a chance to experience him again.  Memories I'd thought I'd lost, come flooding back.  The few memories I have are stained with regret, anger and what was missing.  I used to think I learned my aloofness from him, my fear of commitment, but really, I learned forgiveness.  I learned to love people where they are, faults and all.  

I lie there remembering all of my lovers and friends who've had that smell and all I feel is warmth and wonder,  and so much love (and maybe a little dizziness too).  

14 May 2011

"the minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along"


13 April 2011


He came to me in a dream last night.
Finding him spilling out of a bar in Montreal birthed a deep bloom of happiness within me. I yelled out for him and immediately he smiled and ran towards me. We hugged and it felt exactly as I remembered. It as though the years apart never happened. (Nobody feels like the first and I don't think you can ever forget how they feel, smell).
“You look different, happier.” 
“You look exactly as I remembered,” I replied.
I broke down and told him everything he had meant to me. I had contemplated this moment so many times over the years. I admitted listening to nothing but the Pet shop boys for a year after he moved to Vancouver. How many times I had closed my eyes and relived that first night. How I wore his unwashed tshirt to bed all of those nights. How often I read and reread all of the letters he had sent to me, to find clues how he really felt. How I truly believed there would never be another that would affect me as he did. He just replied "I know" and hugged me even harder. He said he had to go and just as easy as he came into my life, he left.
I woke up feeling relieved. I had lost contact with him so many years ago and I always needed some sort of closure. We were only 19 and I had always wished we had known each other as grown men with battle wounds rather than arrogant boys who thought we owned the world.
I’ve begun to contemplate that thought which I refused to entertain for years: maybe there will never be another who I will care for that uncontrollably, so fearlessly. Maybe that’s the epitome of naivete and the most beautiful part of youth, the belief that life is an endless stream of hopeful, beautiful people anxious to love and be loved with purity.  Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden before they had ever thought of eating that fruit.  
I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, so I’m  grateful for the dream. Unlike previous meetings, this time the delight I took in him was not attached to hope, but rather, existed in a promise-less place. We didn't need to pretend we will have a future because there will never be one.(that still doesn't take away the thrill of seeing him again).

12 April 2011


I was sitting near a window and my hot arm began to smell like you. It's been years since I've thought of you and our summer together or how the back of your neck would get so densely, cocoa dark in the sun. Whenever we would eat or sit outside, I would always make sure your back was to the sun and I wonder if you ever caught on. Although I've never been much of a patchouli fan, somehow it became you and the scent would go right through me and I just wanted it on me. After a night together, I would find myself smelling my skin for traces of you. Anticipation, like gravity, holding me in place, eating slowly to ensure the darkest possible color. Coming home, watching you take of your tshirt, revealing the contrasting hues. You hated having a famers tan, but I loved coming behind you in the bathroom mirror, kissing your warm neck and wrapping my arms around your waist. I would press the side of my face to your neck and could feel the temperature difference between the brown and pale skin and it made me crazy.  
(If only tan lines were enough to hold two people together). 

stars in still water

A few nights ago, standing across from Aadam and his new BF, it dawned on me that I am getting over it. For once, I wasn't feeling a tug or a pang or even insecurity. Even knowing he's met his mother does nothing to me. I looked at the two of them and was surprised to find that I really do wish them happiness.  As soon as that thought entered my consciousness, I knew I had let go. Stranger still, seeing them together only makes me glad that it isn't me. 

I have been going on a few dates, but I don't really need a relationship right now. I have this stupid ticking clock in my brain, yelling at me to hurry up, but I am learning to ignore it. The older I get, the more I realize that listening to the voice that tells you to hurry will almost always end in regret. If I am being truthful, I had felt as though I needed a relationship because inside I felt destroyed and stupidly hoped for a quick fix. It's stupid to keep halfheartedly recommitting myself to the same mistakes, with the same type of person, over and over just to avoid the fear of being alone. If I am honest, there's more love in my life than I responsibly know how to care for as it is. Being alone is an illusion.

I purchased this really expensive bottle of french red wine months ago (a beautiful french clerk told me it was his favorite and that's all it took) for a special occasion and last night just felt like the right time to drink it. So I took a hot salted bath, opened the windows and lit some candles, drank wine in bed and listened to music. I was smiling and it hit me how happy I was. Even better, it's not tied to anything or anyone. My phone beeped and it was Dan. Please come see me.  This weather reminds me of a night that I should be coming over to see you and I miss you.  My smile got bigger and my heart felt fuller, so obviously I am still boy crazy, but I'm done going backwards....really done.  

So, I am going to enjoy a summer (maybe a whole life) of being single and just see what happens.  I am actually looking forward to it.

15 January 2011

your girl is lovely Hubble

This last month I have finally gotten back on my feet a little bit. Breaking up with Aadam has been the catalyst for changing my life. In all honesty, I had become increasingly unsatisfied with all aspects of my life: my friendships, my job, my creative process, love and even my location. Our demise left me feeling so desperate, I had to change my life, and I did so earnestly. After a few months, the seeds I had planted began to flourish. I had lingering sadness over Aadam, but I could manage it. If my life is a novel, I know this will someday be my sweetest chapter, a beautiful darkness, the turning point.

Aadam called me last Monday and I felt excited to hear from him.  We caught up and agreed to meet for drinks Saturday night at my favorite haunt(after three months of not seeing each other). I had anxiety about it, but I knew we had to move on and I needed to apologize for being unkind when my sky was falling.  

(When Aadam walks into a room, it is if the air is sucked out it and no one else exists. A punch in the gut. I have never experienced something this enormous before and I have no explanation for it. It never disappears, regardless of how often I see him. I hate his style, his sleep machine, his jokes are corny and his feature can sometimes look crazy, but he stuns me.)

We sit down and it feels good. I don't feel sick or anxious. It's genuinely great to see him and I am filled with only love.  It's all going great until he says he has gone on some dates (8) with a guy he likes. He wouldn't call him a boyfriend, they haven't had sex, but he likes him. I told him that I was wishing him love everyday so I knew he would move on, but I still felt some sadness.  All of the little sweet things he did for me that made "us" are now being done for somebody else. My bruised ego reappears. I take deep breaths as he tells me how light and goofy he is. "He is more like me and has my sense of humor".  I finally got to ask, "why wasn't it me?" I asked with the softest heart imaginable and waited. "You were always so emotional and it was just harder."  "You have no idea what you mean to me or how many things you have taught me." I completely understood. It was hard.  I was miserable waiting for his personality to match the physical energy he filled me with. I had always felt this burning connection, but maybe I had been wrong to assume that meant we were meant to be lovers. Just because he doesn't carry me off into the sunset does not mean ours is not a happy ending.

The hour sails by and when he drops me off, he gives me one of his signature giant hugs (and nothing feels as good) and a friendly kiss on the cheek.
It wasn't until the next day, when I was retelling the story to my mother that I started quietly crying. It's really over. Two puzzle pieces that will never fit. My tears are beautiful prayers, not indictments of any hurt we have made. 

I don't know what happens next, but I am proud of us. I hope he has someone light and fun in his life as equally as i hope I have someone deep, complex and creative in mine. 

14 January 2011

redefining my instincts.

It would be really hard to describe the last few months in blog form (especially in the short story form I often use), but suffice to say, it has been one of the most difficult points in my life.  Aadam broke up with me in August because he was afraid, only to want me back a few weeks later. I was miserable without him, so of course I went back. With all of the unease I was feeling after the first break up, I was never really myself anymore. I was anxious, needy, jealous, suspicious, sharp tongued and judgemental. One of us pushes, the other pulls, taking turns being the more affectionate or  the more patient until we snap and withdraw only to reverse roles. It began to feel rewardless and exhausting and I was so angry because I was convinced it was my fault.

The night of the second break up, he had come over as he normally did and I asked him what was going on. His own uncertainty filled my room. He said it was nothing but I was insistent I could feel it, and he should be honest.  He said he was unable to put it into words. He had never felt this way about anyone but he had all of this internal muck he needed to clear out.(to say that he had a rough childhood would be putting it lightly) One by one the words he'd held inside began to fall from his lips, and I knew what was coming. I felt the wind knocked out of me and I started pacing and feeling sick again. He looked at me with tears in his reddening eyes and said "don't you think I'm feeling the same way? do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" I felt like nothing.

The month that followed was rough. I was feeling left out of his life. I was being passive aggressive and then apologetic. I would wait for his call, just to yell at him, hoping to get an explanation that made sense. He left me reeling. 
I had to get out of this, but how? The minute I would get home from work, I would fill the bathtub with hot water, turn off all of the lights, light a candle, put on Jonsi or sigur ros and meditate in the steaming water.  One by one, every idea I ever had about love, my family, my friends and my past relationships marched forward to present themselves.  First it was making peace with my fathers death, then walking out on Richard, followed by Aadam's and Dan's inability to commit, but that was just the beginning. Tapping into my source made me realize I had been  a fucking mess most of my life. Living carelessly, only to be leveled the minute someone treated me the same way I treated a lot of the men in my life.  Months of this, sorting through years of unfinished business and I could finally find peace and forgiveness. I finally realized why I kept coming back to the same spot over and over.

Years of keeping a lie about my sexuality kept me from ever feeling loved.  Whenever someone would tell me they loved me, the voice in the back of my head would say "if they only knew".  I was unconscious of this, but I believed it.  At first it was with family and friends, but eventually it crept into every aspect of my life. Someone would say "I love your hair" and I would think, "how will anyone love me once it falls out?". When you approach love or life from the standpoint that you are unlovable, you find people to justify you own fucked up belief about yourself and no matter what people say, you hear what you need to.

If Aadam gave me anything, it was the way out of my own head. It wasn't pretty, but it changed everything.

13 January 2011


Dan sent me a text last night out of the blue.  "I have been thinking about you and I loved our time together. I miss you (and your playlists) I hope you are happy!".  We talked about life, the last year apart and our year together.  It was the first time I have ever heard from him without first anticipating it (although just the day before he kept coming up in my meditations).  I knew enough to let him go, but in all honesty, I had always wondered if he would find a way back to me.  When we are done talking, I'm certain that this is the end and I actually feel good about that.
It's been said that once the karma of a relationship is over, all that is left is love and I believe it.  All of the sadness I once felt about our demise has been replaced with only love. 

The universe has been singing to me lately and everyday I have renewed faith that everything happens just as it is supposed to.

apparently that wasn't it. This morning there was a text that said. "I really do miss you. please come visit me."   
6 months ago, I would have hopped on a plane (I'd been waiting for him to say those words), but there is no way in hell I would swim those waters again.

06 January 2011

my wound has been my healing, and I am made more beautiful by losses.

(a poem so beautiful, I thought I would share).

The Pruned Tree  by Howard Moss

As a torn paper might seal up its side, 
Or a streak of water stitch itself to silk,
And disappear, my wound has been my healing,
And I am made more beautiful by losses.
See the flat water in the distance nodding
Approval, the light that fell in love with statues,
Seeing me alive, turn its motion toward me.

Shorn, I rejoice in what was taken from me.

What can the moonlight do with my new shape 
But trace and retrace its miracle of order?
I stand, waiting for the strange reaction
Of insects who knew me in my larger self,
Unkempt, in a naturalness I did not love.
Even the dog’s voice rings with a new echo,
And all the little leaves I shed are singing,
Singing to the moon of shapely newness.

Somewhere what I lost I hope is springing  
To life again. The roots, astonished by me,
Are taking new bearings in the night, the owl
is crying for a further wisdom, the lilac
Putting forth its strongest scent to find me.
Butterflies, like sails in grooves, are winging
Out of the water to wash me, wash me.

Now, I am stirring like a seed in China.

03 December 2010

October was a stain the size of you, a band aid peeled back to reveal a still bleeding wound instead of white healing skin.  I tried every trick in the book, but no tourniquet could prepare me for the eventual amputation.  It was pure hell. I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if I felt any better, but I didn't. I knew I had to go through this one on it's terms, instead of mine.  I've never felt one this hard before.  As an alcoholic might count the days in between drinks, I counted the days between texts, conversations and meetings, each time hoping to add one more day before I would cave. By Halloween, I had drawn and redrawn ten billion lines in the sand, constantly compromising what I knew was right, and could clearly see the mess I had made of things.

November was an exercise in avoidance.  Not picking up your calls or answering your texts. No longer sending texts at 9:31 pm telling you that you are on my mind, no prayers for our reconciliation, no self sabotaging every time someone asks me out on a date and no longer listening to emo songs about love. (I am by no means a ke$ha fan, but thank God I could listen to her music without once thinking of you).  I took up  things like ice skating, guitar, going to church  and reading at least 15 novels because that took every ounce of concentration and there just wasn't room for you. Finally, I found relief.  You made me feel broken, desperate, demanding and sad and I needed to reconnect to my truest nature, not some imaginary beast.

By the final week of November, I could feel what I had failed to realize lately.  There is no more sadness, happiness, wisdom, love or heartache than there has ever been.   None of us are reinventing the wheel here.  Every feeling I have, you have,  as they have had, and will have from now on.  Heartache is what connects me to everyone.  We will all feel this.   It's not what is lost, but what's left behind that needs my attention now.

It's December and I have a date tonight.  He's handsome and hopefully we will drink the perfect amount of red wine and he will stare at me and smile,  and I will forget everything I ever learned about being hurt and instead will remember everything I ever learned about love.

This year is going to end on a high note if it kills me. :)

19 November 2010


I was getting ready for work this morning and couldn't find the brown belt I hadn't worn in ages. Digging through my closet, I came across the underwear Dan had left that night. (they had gotten lost in between my sheets and they were just grey Hanes, so you hadn't worried about needing them right then).   When i reached for the belt, they fell onto the floor and, just like that, I was there again.  Without thinking,  I  held them up to remember what you looked like that night of a thousand crows. You were smiling, pressing your face into my neck,  telling me you loved me and I couldn't hide my happiness.  (I had no idea that would be the last night we would ever spend together). I held them to my nose and took a deep breathe and I could still smell you,  your fabric softener, and for a moment we were back together.
I've missed you.

09 September 2010


he sings in front of me
he is virtuous enough to be himself and not play make believe with who he really is just to be more appealing
he never makes me late to meet my friends
he hates brand new shoes as much as I do
he kicks me underneath the table
he surprises me with what he knows
he doesn’t have a magazine rack in the bathroom
he is cool with the fact that I look crazy in the morning
he knows how to explain himself
he is a free spirit 
he doesn't run like hell the minute something goes wrong
he smells good but not like a department store
he eats like a hippy but he is smart enough not to look like one
he makes me shut up when a good song comes on
he charms me by how well he plays with others
he says hi to strangers
he wears good underwear 
he is a hard worker
he calls me on my bullshit
he won’t judge me for watching Pretty Woman or Working Girl everytime they are on cable TV.
he doesn’t order a venti frappuccino with whip cream and then tell me he’s being naughty  
he doesn't think pooping in front of me will make us close
he winks at me when no one else is looking
he doesn't need to be the center of attention
he softens me up
he doesn’t dream of one day moving to New York
he doesn’t buy art at Ikea
he doesn’t read books about how to be happy/successful/rich/sexy
he whispers dirty things in my ear in public
he likes being naked in front of me
he loves women and doesn’t wince when he hears the word vagina
he attracts animals
he makes me happy I never settled 
he tells me what he wonders about things instead of telling me what he knows
he is confident
he doesn't believe in tough love and other excuses to be a dickwad
he inspires me to think differently