ChuckPnLA @chuckpnla - Tumblr Blog

Pandemified

The Present

Over three months ago when I left the office on a Thursday, I intended to work from home for “a week or two.” That was the thought I had as I looked back at my newly renovated office and looked at the new tablet on my desk, thinking, “I’ll be back in a few days, I won’t need it.”

A month passed, my husband and I started doing projects at home. His company paid the entire staff full pay the entire time, even though they couldn’t go to work. They were incredible, but it was a little worrisome to think of how long they could or would decide to continue the practice. Those projects were deliberate on my part to provide a productive focus for both of us. There were a number of things, lighting, a bigger TV, furniture, the patio, and several more, all designed to improve the comfort and appearance of our home. It worked.

My husband and friends had moments of uncertainty, as we all did.

The Perspective

I’ve seen a lot of unprecedented, world changing events in my life. To many, this was the first “Pandemic” they were really aware of. But for a gay man, who came out during the height of the AIDS crisis, before any effective medication, it is not. At 18 I moved to LA for college. During High School I had both a boyfriend and a girlfriend and truly did not understand my sexuality. Society equates sexuality with sex, but it is really about feelings. So, sex for me didn’t have an exclusive link to the other person’s gender, and because sex alone was society’s measure of sexuality, I was confused. I came to understand that I’m just gay, period. Because i feel complete sharing my life with a man.

When I came out it wasn’t a big announcement. It was more repeated attempts to bond with one person, some men, some women. One therapist called it, “serial monogamy.” During the time, sex was very scary. The idea being that you were at risk for HIV and if you became positive, there was no effective treatment and a high percentage of people with HIV were dying. HIV became politicized quickly. “President” Reagan seemed to deliberately ignore the pandemic, and even mocked people who were sick, even though his own son is gay. It was brutal to watch. “Gay Rights,” as it was called at the time, no initials added just yet, had made enormous progress to that point in our culture, and this event set us back decades.

Some History

The stigma of HIV extended to all gay men, not just those that were positive. We were viewed by many, in the larger culture, as lepers. They assumed every gay man had the virus and their ignorance and fear fueled their prejudices. It increased the difficulty of coming out, because many didn’t want a gay man around for fear they’d somehow become infected. I remember many conversations where someone expressed that fear and my glib reply was, “Unless you’re sleeping with him, I’m pretty confident you’re safe, so I wouldn’t worry...” Discrimination in housing, jobs, social settings, and more was rampant and people felt “justified.” Things like dentists wore masks and gloves for the first time to “protect themselves.” The idiotic premise that magically disappeared as the pandemic became less a part of public consciousness.

The Change

When CO-19 started, it was far away. A city in China was quarantined. It reminded me of SARS, also a “corona virus,” which happened during a period in my life where I was traveling on planes every week. People from other countries were wearing masks on the plane, but not us. It seemed excessive. It was concerning to be next to someone on a plane who was coughing and had symptoms, but that happens all the time. I’ve had bronchitis and even pneumonia during this period, getting little rest and being exposed to all sorts of things on planes and hotels and being in different cities every week. But, I took care of myself, went to the doctor and recovered.

You can’t be a gay man over 40 and not have some knowledge of virology. You also have knowledge of minimizing risk. The idea that something as important as sex was as dangerous as it was for the first decade of my adulthood for me was a great teacher. I have known many gay men during that time who decided not to have sex at all. I found this sad, but respected their decision. Sex is life-affirming and necessary for me, so I followed the recommendations, until I was in a monogamous relationship. I’m still negative even after three long term relationships with HIV positive men.

So, I stayed home. I work about 60 hours a week, and it was fantastic to delete the commute from that equation. My husband was home for 3 months and we have yet to celebrate our first wedding anniversary, so that time together was amazing. We have made our home as comfortable and attractive as possible. This matters. To have options for places to go at home, different spaces for different activities. If you work at home, you have to be able to “get away” from work. Even if that is a corner where you work, only do work in that area, when you walk away from it, you are no longer “at work.”

My company always had an ambivalent attitude about working remotely. Personally, I really care about the people I’ve worked with for over two decades and like to see them in person, work with them live, and even eat together, most days breakfast and lunch. Some of us have traveled all over the world together. So being apart is a loss. The corporate world can be a swirl of opinions, attitudes, changes, and plans. The traditional way to understand ones place is to being around, to interact with people, and to share information. Being physically distant makes this less possible.

Adapt

So we adapt. My counterpart at the office and I had breakfast together nearly every day for years, and we now do a call every couple of days. My boss and I have a weekly call and talk every couple of days. My husband is back at work on a limited schedule, so I plan my day around when we can be together.

We have food delivered, which costs a few bucks more, but is pretty cool. I have driven exactly twice during the quarantine. I’ve left the house about once a week on average, with a mask, and social distancing. The cats are thrilled to have us around.

Unlike HIV, we as gay men, are not stigmatized, this pandemic affects everyone equally. We are in it together. I’m not surprised by all the conspiracy theories and the resistance to basic, common sense ways to protect oneself. It’s a very strange experience and people try to make sense of it however they can. Denial is not a surprise to me. But like HIV, it’s hard to be willing but simple to protect oneself.

Rumors, Theories, Fears

The most important thing to know about conspiracy theories is, if you can’t prove it, it literally doesn’t matter. If it makes you feel better to believe it, that’s OK. We can drive ourselves crazy trying to distill the truth and the facts out of all the ideas, exaggerations, “statistics” and “news.” But, those of us who survived the AIDS crisis had one, very simple, idea to deal with all of that. We assumed every person we would be intimate with was positive. They could be positive and lie, they could be positive and not know, they could be positive and not be willing to talk about it. So asking that question was meaningless, you had to take responsibility for yourself, and act accordingly. CO-19 is the same in this way, you do not know who is infected, and they may or may not know either. So act accordingly and take care of yourself. Period. This nullifies politics, fake news, exaggerations, and denial. It’s simple.

Action

We do not know what is next, but here’s something to consider. Fear and denial are the biggest enemies to happiness. We are all going to have moments of doubt and fear in our lives, regardless of things that affect us globally. The way we respond is the difference between depression and despair, and hope. Action is the best solution I have found. Creating projects at home, keeping in touch with family more closely, learning to work well from home, if possible. My husband started a weekly call with his best friends and they have been getting together on a call every Friday since the beginning, screen sharing and gaming together. I’ve done every project, including new plants and furniture on our patio and a water feature, to make a safe place to go outside. Be creative, what is important to you? Who can you help? How can you connect with the people in your life who aren’t with you right now? We...have...options. Forget the politics, pay less attention to the “news.” Don’t ignore it, but get the facts that concern you and leave the rest. You will feel better. Avoid drama and exaggeration about what is happening. Make your own life better, act as if you don’t know who is infected, and focus on protecting yourself with the basics, mask, wash your hands, don’t touch your face, and live your life. Namaste

A brief comment on flags and debates

The irony about objecting to making something inclusive is this: 1. It demonstrates that it should be inclusive. 2. It underscores ones own insecurity. 3. It doesn't benefit you in any way to exclude others or resist inclusion. 4. It takes nothing at all away from you personally. Every movement, every social structure, evolves over time. If we do not allow that to happen it will simply die - you know like fighting over what's petty. Some almost got that part right - but a plea to not fight but not change misses the point on the change part. If you don't see it - grab a history book - sweetie. ✊🏽

#inclusion

Three forces

He, is like rough poetry I see him – the way he moves – the outside betraying to no one but me what is inside I see me in him He bobs and weaves like a boxer dodging the hit but asking for it He, is like refined prose I see him – I always have – so much more than that external face the world does I see me with him, until the end He moves and people stare – they can’t believe that is possible He, is like a deep ocean I see him, I can see the depths – the dangers – the wonders I saw me with him, past, future He moves like a powerful force and endures

#love

Story inspiration

#hero inspiration

A Story about Love (but not a love story)

As early as I can remember, I loved the world. I remember as a little kid in New Jersey, I loved the outdoors, my Parent’s garden, the honeysuckle vines all across the back fence. If you pulled them apart you could taste their nectar. I loved the Pines and the Maples in the yard. I loved my family. I was completely trusting and never worried about anything or anybody. Just loved.

As I approached school, I did start to encounter bullies. I didn’t hate them, I just couldn’t understand what the point was. I looked at them and kept wondering what was wrong with them. I’d think, “What happened to you? What makes you act like this?” But I knew intuitively I had a right to be here and people do not have a right to hurt one another. So I loved them anyway. That didn’t mean I didn’t stand up for myself. The worst of them I dehumanized, because their actions weren’t characteristic of human beings. Still I lacked meanness, I just learned to effectively protect myself and others. I kind of naturally taught the people around me to do the same. It attracted other people who experienced the same. They saw that quality that allowed me to overcome.

Still, I loved learning. Nobody could stop me. Not bullies, not even bad teachers (the few I ever encountered, but there were some.) I loved reading. I wanted to understand the world, because I love the world.

When I went to college I looked around and immediately realized I was in a new place with a blank slate and I could write my own story. And I sure did. I loved Architecture. I loved USC. I had incredible friends, some of whom are still my friends. I loved them too. I loved being in the design studio all night and getting the project done and presenting.

I fell in love with the right people and the wrong people. I’ve learned I don’t stop loving someone, once I love them. I have learned that even when I can’t be with someone I have never stopped loving them. It transcends time and distance. Loving one person, even when you lose them, does not stop you from loving someone else. When my Partner Andrew died, he became a permanent part of me, and he is with me every day. Again, time and space cannot change it at all. I’ve fallen in love a few times since then and I love lots of people. The quality and the duration vary, but the feeling, the depth of the emotion is the same. Loving one person does not take away from loving another. My love for Andrew, who has been gone for a long time, doesn’t interfere or prevent my love for anyone. It’s unconditional. It doesn’t depend on anything, even his presence (presence or absence would just be another condition.)

So where does this lead you? It takes away so much fear. Today, and for a long time, I love where I live. I love Los Angeles, Southern California. I love my job, which took me decades to get to this point after changing careers and paying my dues and starting over several times. I just chose to love it. I love the people I work with, even the ones that are difficult. Because I’m not afraid. I just give everything I’ve got, and I don’t seem to run out, which makes you stronger because with practice, you know it and can rely on it. None of the above things are perfect, or easy. Those are also conditions.

One final thought. I hear over and over, “You have to love yourself before anyone can love you.” No, just no. This is contrary to my experience. It is blaming the victim. Sure you are responsible for your situation and your life. But I think it is inherent to the human condition that we love ourselves. The flaw in that thinking is this, we see things around us and think we should be a certain way, or that having a certain thing will make us happy. It confuses and distracts us from loving BEING who we are. Once I started loving being me. Loving waking up and showering. Loving driving by myself to work. Loving eating breakfast (even when I’m strict about what I’m eating.) Loving setting goals and surpassing them. Loving that I like crazy music or scifi or action movies, no matter what anybody else thinks. They have no say because I love being me. It isn’t the narcissism that says, “I’m better.” It’s the strength that says, “I’m happy exactly where I am right now.”

I love watching you love your life. There’s enough love for everybody. Any philosophy or way of thinking that says otherwise is simply wrong.

I love you too, unconditionally.

#love

A Story about the benefits of Anger

Anger...considered a “negative” emotion in our culture. But I question this. Are emotions “positive” or “negative” or is it how one processes them, what one does with them? Like many gay people, I grew up being bullied, teased, tormented and even tortured. I learned to protect myself. I was small but not powerless. I could easily have felt hopeless and helpless and even did at times but something inside me always shouted, “NO!” I would respond to the torture with thoughts like, “You will never break me.”...”You have no right to hurt me.”...”I have done nothing to you.” and most importantly, “I have a RIGHT to be here.” My anger was a key factor in protecting myself. At first I tried to fight back to physical blows and was overwhelmed. I was smaller and weaker physically. But mentally I was far stronger. I was more intelligent than most and more determined than most. I learned to find my strengths and their weaknesses. They had no idea their “fun” in hurting me was fueling that anger and the ability to channel it. I didn’t shrink, I learned to control my reactions and to hone my skills of observation. Oh, I’m a “fag”, I noticed you’re not very smart, who runs things in the world, after school is over, is it the unintelligent? No, it isn’t. Is it the bullies, sometimes maybe but they don’t last because people will rebel.

You won’t see me say, “I’m Orlando”, I’m not Orlando or Paris or even Columbine. I’m something else entirely. Somehow the Universe let me not be a psychopath. I do not want to kill anyone. I had five years of therapy beginning at the end of college after several attempts. I told my therapist about a girl who called me “fag” almost every day of school, from middle school until about Junior year of high school. She’d threaten me, call me names and keep that pressure on. I got A’s anyway. I excelled in the few classes, like language class, where she could be in a class with me at all, since she wasn’t smart enough for the “Honors” or “AP” level. Only electives were the overlap. I told my therapist that (at almost 30 years old) I’d knock her teeth out if I saw her. He responded that abusive people, especially as abusive as her were abused themselves, it was almost a 100 percent statistic. At first I said I didn’t care. But I have compassion. It allowed me to forgive.

During the first week on my job, 17 years ago, I emailed my coworker and he did something I needed done. I was in the cubicle next to him. I was on the phone with my then boyfriend. I got of the phone, went next door and said, “Thanks, you’re the man.” He replied, “No, you’re the man, well...maybe not after what I just heard.” I responded with absolute certain action. I was calm, I got two inches from his face and said, “Oh, you seem confused, but I’m not the least bit confused. I’m not some white boy from Newport Beach, I know you think you know what you see, but I’m outside your experience, boy. I will kick your ass up and down Century Park East without breaking a sweat. So do you have a problem, because I don’t.” He didn’t. That is how channeling anger, letting it motivate you to have strength to fuel your ability to stand up for yourself. Now that was a long time ago. I like to think I have matured and wouldn’t do it today. But that was what I did at the time. There are several stages to grief, we all know them. Anger is just one. But I believe it is a necessary one. You can label your emotions “good” and “bad” I like to think of them as “easy” or “difficult” - “constructive” or “destructive.”

One of my favorite quotes about anger is from “Buddhist Boot Camp”, it says, “Explain your anger, don’t express your anger.” To me this means I have a voice. I can feel angry but I can say, “This is wrong and I will not allow it.” I can set that boundary, I can find a way to stop myself and others from being harmed, protect them. Or I will die trying.

I’ve wanted to cry several times over the past few days, but I will not so easily dismiss my anger as “negative” - I will explain it, I will use it to fuel my ability to stand up, my ability to live for those who have died. I lost my first Partner to AIDS related complications, as many of you, who follow me, know. Make no mistake, the real disease he died of was Homophobia, no more or less than so many others of us. From Reagan blocking any action on research and funding for HIV to the internalized hatred of the church that led him to risky behavior. Yes we are all responsible for what we do, but society is responsible for telling us we are not worthy, we don’t belong and that we should not be here. It is a miracle that we resist and say no, and that anger has always been a deep well of strength in that resistance.

Today I say, “I’ve stopped fighting everything and everyone.” There is a vast difference in fighting and standing up. Today I stand up for the people who have died from all the homophobia, all the subtle slights, the imperceptible expressions of disapproval and judgement. The silence when other witness bullying. You are damn right I’m angry and it makes me stronger than they can imagine. I will resist.

#Orlando Anger Hope

A Valentine’s Horror Story...

If you hate Valentine’s Day, due to loneliness, being single, or whatever the reason, you may want to think about what its like to be with the wrong person…

In my 20’s I felt this compulsion, this drive, to be in a committed relationship. I thought, “This is who I am.” So I met this charming guy, a bodybuilder, at school. He had incredible cheekbones and a perfect body. He literally “courted” me. I moved in with him after about 6 months of dating. As soon as I moved in, this charming, warm, kind, thoughtful person turned into somebody else. It was subtle at first. Less communication was the first sign. I’d have to solicit a response to normal interactions. I’m a communicator, this alone didn’t sit well with me. I’ve also always been pretty self-aware and resistant to abuse, emotional or otherwise. If you’ve read some of my other work, you know I faced bullying until High School. This made me keenly aware of the types of abuse that people are capable of and of their signs.

I hung in there. I’d made a committment right? I keep my committments. The first phone bill came (It was the 80’s you got a bill from Pac Bell if you lived in LA and you generally split it with your roommate.) I’ll use a fictitious name here, because I’m not vindictive and LA may seem huge but it’s really a small town at heart. So I gave Jack my $26 for the bill, of which my part was apparently $26.24. He made a fuss, I became angry. I worked 3 jobs at ‘SC to pay my half of everything, I wasn’t cheating anybody. I gave him the 24 cents and filed the incident away.

Then came the comments, “You’re getting flabby, you should work out.” Now I was about 20, I was active, I ran, played tennis and worked my ass off, but I wasn’t lifting yet. I knew I wasn’t the least bit flabby. Now we come to one of my core beliefs, read carefully and remember this - You can’t be manipulated by someone who isn’t smarter than you. And he isn’t. I saw through it. So now I’m here living with this guy, getting all kinds of shade. This is supposed to be someone who “loves” me.

Next, whenever we did anything expensive, it was his idea and he had to pay. My jobs didn’t afford a trip to the theater, or a dinner at a nice restaurant. Each time, he’d spend the entire event telling me how awesome he was for “paying for my ticket” or “buying me such a nice dinner.” I’d respond that I appreicated it, even though where I’m from that’s utterly classless to do. I’d talk to him about how I felt it was inappropriate and that we didn’t have to do things we couldn’t both afford but he persisted. He attempted, in different ways, to undermine my self-esteem to mold me into the boyfriend he wanted. The flaw in his plan was, I like myself, I wasn’t ashamed of who I am, and I know who that is.

On Valentine’s day, about a year into the relationship, he took me to the Ivy in Beverly Hills. On the drive there and while looking at the menu, he did it one last time. He continued to tell me how awesome he was for taking me there. After months of being with this person who showed no affection or emotion, who attempted to chip away at my self-esteem. I’d had it. During the salad, I said, “You know what? I’m done. I’ve asked you several times not to condescend to me, and you persist. I’ve asked you to respect our differences and you don’t. I’ve wondered why you don’t communicate like you did at the beginning, almost blamed myself, almost. But now, you will no longer undermine my self-esteem, or at least try to, I’m leaving." He suddenly, after about nine months of showing no human emotion, went into high-drama. I wasn’t having that either. I sat there calmly. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I just wasn’t allowing him to hurt me anymore. The waitress came by and called me an asshole. I responded, "Three words, Check, Manager, Go.” I called my best friend and left that night without looking back.

Do not ever let anyone abuse you for any reason in any way. Yes, today, I’m no longer 20 years old and I am kinder and far more patient. Would I do it the same way today, no. Do I suggest anyone else act that way I did at 20? No. Maturity allows me to know I could have done things differently and been more kind, even though I felt that this person had been hurting me and manipulating me, I still don’t have to respond that way. But don’t misunderstand, I was right to walk way. Namaste

#valentinesday

A story about Happiness

When I first came out I met someone who became a great love of my life. His name was Andrew. We both had a “survival” job. I was done being an Architect and got laid off from my firm. He was done being a computer programmer (his degree) and quit his job at Raytheon in Boston and moved to LA. He wanted to be a newscaster. So we were young and poor and in love. We met at work at the Broadway department store in Beverly Center. I suggested we have dinner after several conversations across the mezzanine on several nights. He responded, “Lunch,” in his Southern drawl. I replied, “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by dinner, it’s just that we both work nights and that is the hour at which we would have a meal.” In my East Coast diction, for emphasis. So we went to the mall “food court” and brought food back to the back room breakroom. It was decidedly unglamourous. But we fell in love. An hour later he called to me across the mezzanine. “Do you want to go for a drink?” The rest was history. We moved in within two months and never looked back. By our first Thanksgiving we both had better jobs, but not a huge amount more money. We moved into an awesome apartment in Hollywood, hardwood floors, high ceilings, big rooms, arched French windows, it was beautiful. But, it didn’t have an oven or stove. My company moved and gave me a giant microwave. We had a hot plate. It was awesome. Thanksgiving came around and I had seen that the local market would prepare the entire Thanksgiving meal for a really awesome price. We invited everybody we knew who didn’t have somewhere to go. It was amazing. Every single person showed up, but not all at once. There was enough for everyone. We were mostly young and poor and hard working. I know some of you still to this day. Andrew passed away 4 years later of complications due to HIV. I barely survived the loss, got sober and eventually met someone else. Art hated all Holidays, everywhere. The first year his depression over it was hard to know how to help. We were also still working hard and had not really gotten too far from poor. But, I took off the week and said to him, “Let’s get out of here.” We camped all the way to Seattle before heading back down to LA. We spent Thanksgiving in this bizarre place in the Redwoods that was probably a bordello during the Gold Rush. It was magical. The place was filled with the oddest people. One older dude, who looked like he was an original gold miner, still hanging around from the 1800′s, leaned over from his table, shook both our hands and wished us a Happy Thanksgiving. We did this every year until we broke up. A year after Art and I parted (we are still close and he will always be my Family), I got back together with Sam, whom I met the year after Andrew died, before I was ready to settle down again. For many years we had Thanksgiving with his family, who have always been kind to me. This year, Sam isn’t well enough for that type of outing, and I’m giving him IV’s all day. But I know this will pass. He will recover and because of my experience taking care of Andrew, I know what I’m capable of and the well of strength I was born with, it seems limitless and I don’t know why. It comes from love, it comes from faith, determination and an iron will. So today, for the first time since Andrew passed away, I’m cooking. I love doing it and have gone to great lengths to make this special for Sam. There’s no better way to celebrate than expressing love. Namaste

#gratitude happiness acceptance

25 posts!

#25 posts #tumblr milestone

Outness

When you are different in some way than the rest of society, there are layers and layers of connectedness and separateness. As a child I grew up in a place with some diversity. The thing is there were still dominant groups. In any group of people, we divide ourselves, categorize ourselves, evaluate and measure one another and form bonds. I was Roman Catholic. I was born into it, as generally, Catholics don’t really proselytize. My Great Grandmother was from Ukraine and has some Polish roots and was a devout Catholic. She made sure my Mom has the best values that religion had to offer and my Mom is still doing everything possible to use those values to be the best human being one can be. She’s taken care of countless people, even my Dad when he had cancer, many years after they parted.

So, growing up Catholic in a Catholic place, easy right? But there I was somehow different. Most of the kids were of Italian descent. I didn’t really look like them. I was somehow subtly more ethnic. I didn’t understand at the time that this was one of the many things that set me apart. The reason, is this case is the dominant Greek genes from my Dad’s side. I was different in other ways too. I’m gay, although it took me until after college to understand that fully and to even begin to know what it meant to me.

Now, in my experience, there are two predominant ways a person can take being different and feeling different than seemingly everyone around them. One way is to shrink from it. To be left alone or even to seek to be left alone. I remember reading a study about children who have unusual names. They sometimes get ostracized by the other children, but sometimes they are perceived as special. I am grateful for a lot of things. One of them is, I was born with an internal, innate, visceral knowledge that I have a right to be here. It also came with empathy and the knowledge that you have a right to be here also.

So my reaction was, I must be special if I’m so different and don’t look and feel like everybody else. Group dynamics will tend toward pushing those who are different “out” or “away”. It just didn’t work on me. I learned early on that politics of the individual. The idea that, yes the group has power, but when you break it down into its individual parts, it isn’t so forceful.

To every way we are different from our fellows there is some kind of “coming out” process. Some way in which that difference is acknowledged and dealt with. When I first moved to Los Angeles, I heard a question from many many people here, that I had never been asked on the East Coast. It would have been considered rude and maybe ignorant to even ask it there. People would be talking to you for the first time and ask, “What are you?” Now don’t get me wrong, the East Coast just has a subtly different set of rules and measures, they would ask where you live, where you go to school/work, who your parents are. They’d get the intel to categorize you, but it is far more complex and subtle. I had zero idea what I was being asked, and I was taken aback at the boldness and ill-manneredness of the question. I eventually realized after the second or third time, they wanted to know my ancestry and ethnicity. The most fun experience with this was, I was a Punk Rock kid (slash New Wave by then) and I had my hair dyed black and I already have almond shaped eyes, so the last straw for the speculators in college was when I dated an Asian girl. The rumor went around that I’m half-Asian. I didn’t confirm or deny it, I’d be just as proud to be Asian as Greek. Who cares.

When you are gay, there is another subtlety to this. You can have some cultural or personality queues that tell others you are gay but society is heterocentric. If you don’t have several overt cues, they assume you are “straight”. I get that a lot. At least until I start talking about life, and they start talking about their families, so I do too. So every single person a gay person meets for their entire life is another instance of “coming out”. You repeatedly have to reveal something somewhat personal about yourself because others assume you are something you are not. You tell them in the interest of correcting that misunderstanding and because you are an honest person. If you’ve dealt with your own feelings about these things for a long time, it is that you have no interest in hiding, that you have likely paid your dues in lost friends, slow advancement and social separateness, and you have earned the right to say who you really are and correct that assumption.

The thing that made me think through this feeling was an experience at my gym. There’s an older bodybuilder guy, nice, kind and outgoing. He talks to all the other more serious lifters. He noticed my progress and befriended me. He’s a great guy, probably 15 years my senior. We were talking one day and I was saying how I take care of my Partner. Now, these days, many people refer to their significant other that way. So he said, “She must have had a really hard time, and you too.” I smiled and said, “He, and yes, it has been rough.” Then I didn’t see him for a few days. One day I saw him and he didn’t make eye contact. In my mind, I considered the possibility that he might not be able to bridge that gap. Experience however, has taught me to reserve judgement and to give others the patience and tolerance I want. So when I saw him today, I said hello and it was normal and my concerns were unfounded.

Namaste

#comingout out

Anxious...

They say that dreams are your subconscious working out things that your waking mind cannot. I like to believe that’s true. Now, I’m pretty serene guy. My life has required that I reconcile my religious upbringing with being a gay man. I needed a spirituality that works. I’ve studied many regions. I can’t say I have any issue with the actual message of any. What most closely aligns with what my heart tells me is Buddhism. I am not a Buddhist, but I have studied the belief system and done the whole, “take what you need and leave the rest.” So while you won’t see me in robes any time soon (I left those at Our Lady of Good Council Church in West Trenton, New Jersey in 1984) I do pray and mediate. I can even lower my pulse at will by a couple of points because of it. So, how can I have anxiety?

With everything there’s a tipping point. I’ve had to handle a lot in my life. As a kid, abuse, as a student, bullying, in College, at times, 3 jobs to keep eating. Two career changes, coming out, watching my Partner die of HIV-related complications at 28 and other major challenges showed me I can handle almost anything (”almost” because I’m not signing up for more at the moment.)

When my Partner was diagnosed a few years ago with bone cancer, I just focused on the solution. I focused on treatment, solutions, logistics and supporting him. I didn’t look too far ahead, and showed up at work and set all that aside because to me, work is the vehicle that enables my life and my ability to take care of others. Plus I love my work and the people I work with (by design and by choice). At first I was functioning at an amazing pace and incredibly productive. I didn’t lose productivity but started to feel anxious. Yes, it was situational, but I’ve been through worse. I started waking up in the middle of the night with the intense feeling that the world would end. My mind would run through scenarios, possibilities and outcomes. It was frightening. I could get back to sleep after a couple of hours, but when you start with a 6-hour night, that’s not always possible.

I tried the tools I’ve used all my life. I automatically compartmentalize, I do something productive at that hour. I work, I do things (quietly) around the house, read, etc. I prayed, I meditated, I spoke with close friends about it. Nothing changed and it got worse.

As a sober man, I don’t take things like a tranquilizer. I just don’t take chances with my 18 years. So I visited my doc. He has become a close friend, whom I’ve known for 25 years. He knows I’m sober and knows my “rules”. We tried antidepressants in low doses. All of them had side effects, weight gain, sexual side-effects (egads), etc. Finally, one medication seemed to help. I took it for over a year. At a full dose, my face went numb and I stuttered (something I have never ever done) so we settled on half. I was still waking up from night terrors that became waking nightmares. The circumstances hadn’t changed. Sam was still recovering, work was still in the constant state of change all Corporations exist in. Then finally, recently, I realized, I just had to stop taking medication. I’d gained weight, in spite of two hours at the gym daily. I wasn’t feeling as “sharp”. If you met me in the last year, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Believe me. So, I stopped. Yes, I’m still waking up, but I know the alternatives, I have a different perspective. I’m aware that the thoughts are only that, having lived with it for a few years. And somehow, I’m better.

I have zero regrets. I did what I had to do to be of service at home and at work and in my friendships. But now, I’m just slightly better. After a couple of weeks I’ve already lost a few pounds and I’m feeling myself in a way I haven’t during the whole experience.

Namaste

#anxiety stress recovery

Pride

pride

[prahyd] Spell Syllables

noun

3.a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.

So I keep seeing, “Happy Pride Month” all over. I know the President announced it. I get it. I hope everyone, like I do, asks themselves what it means to them.

The road has been long for me. I grew up Catholic. I was an Altar Boy for 9 years to make my Mom happy. I don’t regret it at all. No, I wasn’t abused by a Priest. I was articulate from about 5 years old and there way no avoiding me being precise and specific about whatever happened to me. Predators sense this.

As soon as puberty hit I was aware of my attraction to men. I remember actually thinking, “Hey, wait, that’s not what I’m ‘supposed’ to feel, what the heck?” But I did. The first person I came out to was my now, ex-wife, when we were 13 years old. She kind of freaked out on me too. It wasn’t pleasant but I wasn’t apologizing either. Growing up on the very ground where the Revolutionary War was fought, not long after the Civil Rights Movement and the Free Speech Movement, I was taught from birth that everyone is equal, to think otherwise is simply ignorance and education is the cure for that. Not only that, but I was born with the knowledge that I have a right to be here.

I was bullied a lot as a kid. It make me tougher. It made me strategic and it made me...angry. The anger was directly connected to the fact that there were people in the world who had some idea that they had any say over anyone else’s life. I knew, in my heart, they were wrong. I used everything I had in me to resist. I was effective. By 15 years old I became a Punk. By 17 I was a Punk Radio DJ. By then I scared the bullies. They didn’t know what to do with me and that was entirely by design. At the same time I got straight A’s.

When I went to college I tried to come out. It didn’t “take”. I had some horrific experiences with men. Horrific. So, having dated women, I decided to get back together with my high school sweetheart. This led later to our marriage and divorce (in short order actually). I realized that society tells us being gay is about sex. We even tell that to one-another. What I learned was, I simply didn’t feel complete with a woman. I did with a man. It was simple and it was about love.

I came out at the time of the divorce. 1991. No protections for gay people in the workplace, no gay marriage, no housing protections. These things came from those of us who came out and fought for them.

When my first love and Partner, Andrew passed away, I had to tell my boss, the son of the owner of my company, what happened. I was not out at that small, redneck company, because the other gay people there told me not to. I believed them. When I returned to work after a week of doing things like shipping my Partner’s body to his family, my Boss told me they “decided to pay me for the time I was off, but couldn’t call it Bereavement leave because their ‘beliefs’ didn’t permit it.” I responded. I said, “Chris, I want you to know I appreciate your paying me for the time I needed. I want you to understand that my job is important to me and that I care. I also need to be very clear about this. It is no different than if something happened to your own wife, god forbid. I was married to a woman and I can tell you there is zero difference in the experience of loving another human being, or in losing them. So while I thank you for taking care of me, I object to the suggestion that it isn’t Bereavement, because it is.” We ended the meeting amicably and I left the company shortly thereafter. (Bye Felicia).

I’ve been at my present job for many years. If there is any homophobia, I haven’t seen it directed at me. I’m appreciated and the people I work with care about me. The one way I do pay the price for coming out, is that you do not have to be homophobic to be heterocentric. There have been times where I’ve sensed that others are favored only for the fact that they have a wife and kids. This even includes guys that have come on to me, who are married with kids. If they play the game, there are rewards. I’ve never, ever been treated unfairly but there is an advantage in giving the appearance of being the same as the majority.

There’s a lot of talk of privilege with regard to race. This is an important dialog that is finally getting a name and a more precise definition. And do not think for a moment that that privilege does not extend to sexuality as well.

Namaste

On Reflection

Here I sit after a two-hour workout on the eve of my 48th Birthday, about 30 years since moving to Los Angeles. Where did I think I’d be and where am I?

I thought I might be the next Frank Gehry by now. In High School I took a drafting class, one of the few electives my advanced curriculum allowed for. I wanted to do something creative. The instructor took a liking to me. He asked me to take his design seminar the following year, my Senior year. It went well until Kevin, the hottest guy possibly in the school decided he liked me. Not dating liked but we talked every day. The class was structured such that we all worked independently and there was no lecture. So we were allowed to talk. The instructor realized I was gay (well before I did) and the truth is, although married with a son, with whom I was friends and who I went through the YMCA “Indian Guides” program with, he was gay too. His self-hatred became directed at me. At that point in my life, I had dealt extremely effectively with plenty of bullies and he was no match for me. Plus I knew I was smarter than him. He couldn't fail me because I did the work, and anything short of an F wouldn’t affect my college GPA, which I had already submitted and been accepted, so I basically told him to give it his best shot. I also had an internship on Nassau Street at a nice, small Architecture Firm across from the Princeton campus, which I had gotten by knocking on doors until somebody said yes. Along with that came two, glowing and sincere letters of recommendation to Architecture school. So, F U Mr. Anthony. I saw him again two semesters into College, on a visit home. He bitterly told me I’d fail and I just laughed. I did well in school, got an A on my 5th year Thesis Project. Got a job right out of school at a nice firm in Marina del Rey and seemed to be on my way. Except, I hated it. I hated sitting at a drafting table re-drawing the same scheme for somebody’s bathroom in Beverly Hills all day (literally). I got laid off a year later and never looked back.

I got a job in a Computer Company doing graphic design and admin work. They were extremely kind to me. I worked with engineers all day and asked them how to do things. They helped me and I learned quickly. I then talked my way into a system admin job with a small company and they provided my foundation of training.

I paid my dues in a couple of low-paying jobs with not the nicest people and then finally my last company was sold to the one I now work for. Many people still mistake my humility for weakness, but they learn eventually.

So, I have a career I love, where I can make a decent living.

I always thought I’d be in a relationship and that I’d love someone. What I didn’t realize is, that I’d love so many people. I didn’t understand yet, about myself, that once I love someone, I will always love them. There are a couple that I should be close to, but whom I still love deeply. Sometimes you have different values, sometimes you just clash with one another. But maturity and experience have taught me, that it isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong, but just what’s best for me. No blame, no judgment. This has allowed my heart to be open and fearless when it comes to love. And I’m so grateful.

I figured I’d have the house on the hill and the sports car by now. I don’t. I do love where I live, and have lived for 12 years. I love the neighborhood and the diversity of it. Another thing I realized about myself, is that I’m just not materialistic. How that happened I’ll never know. Having grown up and a very classist, stratified, East Coast town, it would make sense if I were, and having gone to USC, in the 80′s no less, that should only have reinforced it. But I resisted. I just believe that there’s more to life than “stuff”.

So, I never thought my life would look like it does today. I’d love to be financially independent and able to help others more. I’d love to travel more. I’d love the big house. After all, I could have more pets and crazy parties. But what I have is awesome and I wouldn’t trade any experiences for things.

I get up for work and after 16 years I still love going there. In the words of Mary Tyler Moore in the last episode and final scene of the show, “I just wanted you to know that sometimes I get concerned about being a career woman. I get to thinking my job is too important to me, and I tell myself that the people I work with are just the people I work with. And not my family. And last night, I thought, 'what is a family, anyway?' They're just people who make you feel less alone... and really loved. And that's what you've done for me. Thank you for being my family.” And i do feel that way. So lets see what the next 20 bring. I’m ready.

Namaste

A word about Judgment

One thing that I’m more keenly aware of, it seems, than others, is judgment. When someone expresses an opinion about another’s life, there’s a high probability that opinion is a judgment. My experience in observing my own changes in attitudes and beliefs as I’ve gained experience and learned new things is, the more I make judgments about people and things around me, the less I am happy. So when I hear or see that in others, I see unhappiness in them and the expression of it seems to be some need to spread that unhappiness. My response? I am willing to explain something, once. In the spirit of good communication (which I value) and mutual understanding, I will respond to a judgmental remark with a clarifying statement. Once I have, I am done. At the very least with the conversation. With a repeated pattern over time, with the individual. That may sound harsh, but to be clear, it’s a way, without fighting, to resist a world I do not believe in. Tolerance and understanding are things that seem to lead to peace, both internal and external. However, I’m aware I can’t change anyone, even changing oneself is near impossible. So walking away is the better option for me.

The Bible (yes I’m going to quote it academically and particularly because so many people use it as a basis for justifying their judgments of others) says in Matthew 7:1-2: 1"Do not judge so that you will not be judged. 2"For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.…

What they don’t say, and I’ve come to believe, is that the reason you will experience that is because you will turn it on yourself. I think it’s a psychological phenomenon. If I say you are fat, why don’t you work out? I look at myself all the more critically. It’s painful and it makes a person unhappy. I, personally, want to be happy. So even in social media, I resist even “liking” an item that has that judgmental edge to it. Am I perfect, no. I think each of us can only be informed by his or her own experience with sensitive issues. Every now and then I express something that I lack enough experience in, and someone calls me on it. The trick is, to not be defensive, to keep an open mind and to check yourself for whether what you did or said was “wrong”. I put the word wrong in quotes because morality, as anybody who reads any news knows, is subjective.

So there is a great deal of freedom in letting go of judgments. In my studies of Buddhism, I’ve encountered the concept in different forms. My favorite, from the book “Buddhist Boot Camp”, is: “What you know is true and the opposite is also true.” The author goes on to provide examples, but the point to me is, that perspective and information can change both your perception of something and your beliefs about that thing. I was walking home from the gym this morning. I walk fast. There was a guy in front of me on the sidewalk, who looked homeless. He was doing that walk where you take up the whole sidewalk by staying toward the middle and walking erratically enough to not allow for passing on either side. It was annoying. Then he threw some trash over a fence. Now this is my neighborhood and I’m proud of it, I live here and spend a fortune in rent because, it’s nice. So at that point I was both irritated and angry. Then I thought to myself, here I am irritated and angry. What is this about? I looked at the guy, slowing me down, dirtying up my neighborhood and thought, “There but for the grace of god (or the higher power of your choice) go I. I’m sober, I have been for almost two decades, since my 20′s. I got very, very, lucky. I got it the first time I tried and did the things people told me worked for them in their own experience and I’m still sober. But I see so many people that struggle, many of whom I continue to try to help. This guy could be me, without the corporate job, without the self-respect, without the family who love me. And then, I just slowed down a little, was no longer angry and was just, grateful.

So what’s the trick? The “trick” is empathy. Some people lack it entirely. I’ve seen that, it’s very ugly. I just don’t want to be that. So, if you do have a moment where you find yourself judging someone, pause, put yourself in their shoes, for just a moment. Then act the way you would want to be treated if you were in those shoes. You aren’t going to change them, you really are not. You can not “teach them a lesson”. You can, however, be kind.

Namaste

A story about Faith

There are a couple of quotes from an obscure SciFi movie I love, called “Red Planet”. I won’t get into the move today, as this isn’t intended as a review but these quotes did inspire me to think about faith and I was reminded about them while having seen part of “Contact” today.

There is a character in the film who plays the role of the “Spiritual” one. He’s the oldest in the cast and is viewed as the soul of the journey. The general plot is that the Earth is too polluted to fix and Mars is viable for terraforming due to newer technology. The mission is to go to Mars and try to save humanity.

As they develop the characters, Chantillas, the character I mentioned says, “I realized science couldn't answer any of the really interesting questions. So, I turned to philosophy. I've been searching for God ever since. Who knows, I may pick up a rock and it'll say underneath, ‘Made by God.’ The universe is full of surprises.” As the conversation continues, he also says, “You must have a least a little faith, or you wouldn't be riding 55 million kilometers in a rocket ship that nobody ever tested properly.”

This inspired me, or connected with my own view of the Universe. When it comes to spiritual matters, I’ve had to have a somewhat defined view of things. First, I grew up Catholic. I was an Altar Boy for nine years (no “it” didn’t happen to me, which comes up nearly every time I mention it) I was raised by a Mother who is the best possible example I’ve encountered, to this day, of what a faithful person is supposed to be. She has cared for countless people and has made several personal sacrifices to do so, all because of her own beliefs. And, I’m sober, and had to find something greater than myself, of my own understanding to do that.

When I was in Junior High, I started to have migraines, being an overachiever. The stress was bad, and I went to school with a number of bullies. I have, however, always been proactive. I went to the Ewing Public Library and got out every (all two of them) books on migraines. I read them both. The commonality between them was the meditation relieved them. The doctor didn’t offer any cures at all. So I returned the migraine books and took out the three books they had on meditation. They had Zen Buddhist Meditation, Transcendental and Biofeedback (it was, after all the 1970′s). I read all three and taught myself all three. Later, I studied Buddhism further because it made me curious. I studied the Tao as well. I still have a copy somewhere of “The Tao of Pooh” and “The Te of Piglet” and a translation of “The Way” from Lao Tze.

Later, I came out and fell in love. My Partner, Andrew found out he was HIV positive the week we started dating. I was already in love and wasn’t going to run away. I knew nothing about HIV. Again, being proactive, I volunteered at APLA and took every class they offered. In the spirit in which I was taught to be of service to others, I did the “Buddy Program” and worked with guys who were alone and had HIV. I learned a lot. One class they offered was Meditation. I had long since eliminated the migraines by meditating, but this drew my attention back to the practice. The woman who taught the class was amazing and I learned at least three new techniques that enhanced what I knew. Along the way I made a friend, Janet, who grew up Zen Buddhist. She taught me a great deal about Zen, Japanese culture and how to meditate.

As a result, as my own spiritual beliefs developed I started to think of my beliefs as “Accidental Buddhist”. In my study of Buddhism, the one theme was to “be kind” to all people, all things, animals, life in general. And that is the thing that has most informed the person I am right now. It changes, and I learn different ways to apply it. It goes against my New Jersey upbringing with so much, “get them before they get you”. It’s work. I’m not a passive person. But in spite of all that, kindness is always my goal.

So with all of that, how do I relate to that quote? When I look at life, people, changes, current events...how can I have peace. And I do. Because I see how small all of that is, and how vast the Universe is. I see that while we are small, that gives me humility. But the thing is, small as we are, it is all connected and the absence of the least of us affects the entire Universe. The presence of the worst of us still affects everything. I believe that the Universe is in perfect balance. So even if I don’t like something, it has a place in that balance. As a human being with limited perceptive capabilities I may never see how these things connect, but the faith is where I can see the beauty of it being connected. I believe it will always balance and that belief gives me peace. In a 12 step program I’m a part of they say, “We stopped fighting everything and everyone...” I try to live that. Which isn’t easy for someone who had to fight to survive growing up in a hostile environment. But each moment where the impulse to fight comes, one has a decision. I’ve also learned that there is a difference between fighting and resisting. Between fighting and standing up for oneself. Between fighting and calling out an injustice. And those things I can and will do.

So, you can be at peace, not matter what is happening around you, in your life, in your world. My other favorite quote is from a book called, “Buddhist Boot Camp”, which says, “Don’t pray for World Peace, look inside yourself and see how close to world peace we are.” Try that in Los Angeles rush hour traffic.

Namaste

Chuck

A real Jersey Boy

I have friend who says I mention where I’m from “frequently” - you know who you are. But why is that? What do I even think about it? How it is significant where you come from? I grew up in Ewing, New Jersey but I’ve been in Los Angeles since I was 18 for the most part. The reason is identity, origin, knowing oneself. The area where I was raised is the site of the Revolutionary War. The Battle of Trenton was fought just outside my immediate neighborhood. Washington crossed the Delaware within a couple of miles of my family house. This made me constantly aware of what Freedom is because I felt immersed in the history of how and why we have a country at all. What we aren’t, for example, Canada. It wasn’t an easy place to grow up either. People are very direct there, for better or worse. They can be extremely warm and caring, but extremely rough. They are bold about their beliefs and vocal about them as well. I only understand all this because I left, I have both distance and perspective, and a political mind. I see the relationships between systems naturally. I always have.

Growing up there, I had to be tough. People are independent and do think for themselves, but they are also very curious when someone doesn’t think or act like they do. Los Angeles has too much variety for that. People here are just trying to maintain their own personal perspective in a sea of others to try to make others conform to anything in particular. It forces a “live and let live” perspective on most. We don’t have a centuries-old culture here. At best it’s been evolving for 100 years, and even within that, there have been wave after wave of immense influx of different people changing both the landscape and the culture.

I grew up with bullying. Other kids used all of the cultural quirks that, in their minds, were the norm, to try to enforce their ways. This happens everywhere, but in my home town, it was physical, social and cultural. And it’s Classist. Physically, people would feel free to punch anyone, hit them, knock their school books on the ground. Socially they’d call names and attempt to ostracize, criticize and taunt. Culturally, there were dominant groups, Catholic, Italian, Wasp, etc. I was just, different. Being Greek, I didn’t even fit in with the Italians or Irish despite being Catholic. Being small I couldn’t compete in sports. But I was tough, and I was smart. These facts were impossible to ignore and I made sure of it. It made me stronger and smarter. When John Z. beat me up at lunch everyday, his Aunt, the “lunch lady” allowing or maybe encouraging it. I endured. Then his little brother Lee, my age, my size tried it. I wiped the playground with him. The principal Mr. “Heater” called me into his office and said, “Chucky, Lee’s Mommy and Daddy can’t buy him a new sweater when you rip it off him…” I replied, “Well then Lee’s Mommy and Daddy need to teach him and his brother not to try to beat me up, and your lunch lady needs to stop them from trying, which she doesn’t.” He said he’d call my Mom. I explained, “My Mom know the entire School Board, she already thinks you’re incompetent, so she’ll really be displeased if I come home and tell her you let this guy beat me up every day, do nothing to protect ME, and then call me in here when I defend myself. I’d advise against that Mr. Heater, and I’m leaving.” And I did.

I went to the bus area, John Z. was there, he approached me and said, “I’m gonna kick your ass, you hurt my brother.” I was ready for him. I said, “Yup and now we both know I can kick his ass, and if you even look at me sideways from now on, I’m going to do it again.” His small brain nearly exploded. He replied, “My Dad’s gonna kick your Dad’s ass.” I said, “He can try! I’d love that. Have your skinny drunk-ass dad come by 5 Plaza court at 4pm. My Dad will be their lifting with his other bodybuilder friends. You might want to call an ambulance when he’s on his way.” He never bothered me again. I was seven.

That’s just one anecdote. It probably could have happened anywhere, but to me, this was all a part of growing up when and where I did. It is a part of me. I don’t believe in violence today. But I do believe in standing up for myself and anybody who can’t stand up for themselves, and I have my Jersey upbringing to thank for that. Now I’m going to have a Hoagie and meditate. Namaste ;)

A Commitment

At 23 I found myself figuring out that I'm gay. After some attempts at relationships with guys and same bad experiences, dating a few women, I thought it was right for me to get back together with my High School sweetheart and marry her, which I had. During 5 years of therapy I realized I'm just gay and it wasn't about sex, which was the confusing part for me, since Society tells us that sexuality=sex. That just isn't the case for me. It's about who I can fully share my life with. So, I told my Ex-wife and she left the same day. A month after I was laid-off from my Architecture firm. My only job using my degree, to this day. I had to move, since I could not afford the place we shared alone. I also needed a job. I got a $300-a-month apartment in the San Fernando valley and a job at a department store. The store was in Beverly Hills and most of the people there were also between jobs or in some kind of transition.

A guy that worked in the next department always talked with me. I had zero idea he was interested in me. I didn't even know he was gay. One day I said to him, "Let's have dinner." He responded, "Lunch." I laughed to myself, and said to him, "I don't mean 'anything' by 'dinner', we just both work evenings and that's the time at which we would have a meal." He said yes. It was thoroughly un-romantic. We went to the food court and came back to the break room. We did have a great conversation. An hour later, he called me over to the side of the floor where he worked. I had learned he studied Computer Science and had worked for a Defense Contractor and quit to become a News Caster. He was gorgeous.

He said, "Do you want to go for a drink after work?" I wanted to say, "Water" just to get him back for the "Lunch" comment. But I didn't. I said yes. So our first date lasted hours and ended with my dropping him off in Los Feliz, where he lived and driving all the way back to Van Nuys. If you know LA, that's far.

We fell in love, and quickly. I was certain he was right for me. But...he would not go "all the way" and I was very ready, having been married to a woman and not out for a long time. I knew something was up. I confronted him. He was very afraid to tell me that he found out he was HIV positive that month right before we met. In that moment I knew that I loved him and wasn't afraid. I hugged him and said, "I'm falling in love with you, I'm not afraid of this. Anybody can have HIV, they may know, they may not know, they may tell they may not tell. But I'm not going anywhere."

He was my first love. We shared everything. We had two years together where he was perfectly healthy. Then he began to have HIV related complications. We took every single thing in stride. One day at the doctor (with whom I am still friends and who is still my doctor after 24 years), said the blood work showed CMV, Cytomegalovirus and that this required daily IV treatments. He looked at me and said, "I'm going to teach you how to do this and you are going to give Andrew the treatment." I just said yes. We did it every day after that until he died two years later as a direct result of CMV. We'd each go to work, come home, go to the gym together, eat dinner and then do the treatment. We treated it like it was brushing your teeth or doing the dishes. We made it normal. We even went to the East Coast for him to meet my family and we did the treatments in my bedroom that I had growing up. I became so good at the medical stuff that when he passed away, I had three of his doctors tell me to go to med school.

I have zero regrets. To know you are loved that much, to know someone has committed to you completely is an experience that is worth any adversity. Andrew is a part of me. I think about him with love all the time. I may say something in a unique way he might have said it, or remember that I know something because he taught it to me. I am grateful. I just hope that every person gets to experience that love. Namaste

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