Pepperoni and Beer

My grammar is bad but this is still a story. Life has bad grammar that's the point

[humanitysteeped-blog]

My Fog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[humanitysteeped-blog]

My Chest Hurts

My chest is tight. Cortisol is flowing through my veins.

This is fight or flight. But I don’t want either. I won’t flee because before I knew it...I wanted it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be like so many other times. I don’t know what happened but I can’t breath. I can’t speak and when I try it’s hollow, false, and shallow.

I feel dizzy and I need to use the bathroom but I can’t move, I cant say that I need to excuse myself for a moment.

I do not understand the difference of one person to the next when you don’t know them. They should be all the same. You all are the same.

Within minutes I noticed your calves and your arms....your hands. I became addicted to them.

Some invisible scent filled my lungs and paralyzed me. It took over my body.

Your awkward laugh and honest quips put me under a spell and I just wanted you to keep talking.

Don’t ask me to talk, I’ll gasp. I’ll sound stupid or incoherent. My chest hurts. My chest is tight.

Every cell in my body will crave you and you won’t ever know.

You’ll think I’m uninteresting and boring. If I talk you’ll think I ramble and I’ll bore you.

You won’t know that, while relaxed, I’m excited and carefree. I love to laugh and sing loud bar songs after a couple pints of Guinness. My passion and lust for life are muted and stifled under the intense wave of pleasure that is your presence.

My chest is tight.

I wish you could see me naturally because I know you’d see it. Maybe you’d be drawn to me as I’m drawn to you. Maybe you’d fall in love with me. Maybe your body would ache for mine as mine aches for you. Maybe we would be friends and comfortable in each other’s presence.

But you won’t ever see me because my chest is tight. And I can’t breathe.

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Establishing Ties

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, that is so," said the fox.

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

Yes, that is so," said the fox.

Then it has done you no good at all!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

[humanitysteeped-blog]

The Province of Men:

I’m about to talk dirty to you guys. I think it’s important to talk about the things that make us uncomfortable so right now we’re going to talk about porn. Let me lay the groundwork for how I was taught to view porn and porn addiction. Now I wouldn’t describe myself as a very “sex-positive” person. I enjoy sex, yes-but I’m not one of those people who actively explores my sexuality and pushes it’s boundaries. I don’t see this as either right or wrong this is just who I am. My objective here is not to talk about porn in and of itself but more the role it plays in the lives of a lot of men, gay and straight. I think I’m talking more about addiction than anything else. Porn has its place in life and I’ve heard that it can be a very positive thing for a lot of couples. On an individual level porn can be a crutch at best. At its worst it can have serious affects on a persons mental health and happiness. But that could be said about almost anything you bond with to give you relief. As a young man my dad constantly railed against what he considered “sexual sin.” This was a wide range of things from homosexuality to pre-marital sex to porn. Definitely the porn. Because he was very uncomfortable about communicating so often times he would vaguely talk about it in a way that left us with no other conclusion to come to except that all sex was bad. My mom, being my dads emotional translator, would try to follow up with a reminder that sex was a beautiful and pure thing only when married. Because action speak louder than words it was my parents reactions to sexual things that dictated my view of sex. My dads strong aversion to sexuality was born from his sins before he was a Christian…apparently my dad was a fuckboy at one point in his life which is hilarious because I’ve only known the version of him that doesn’t even want movies played in his house where actors are kissing each other. Life takes funny twists and turns. Apparently one of my dads “struggles” was with porn addiction. Porn was the nasty devil. The worst thing you could as human was watch porn. The second theme I was raised with was the idea of male sexuality being much more active than female sexuality. The idea that all men are 100% susceptible to porn addiction and women don’t care about sex because they were emotionally inclined was a soap box my dad stood on. I can tell you that when I watched porn as a teenager it was alway when I felt the most lonely or the least connected with the people I loved…which was almost always as a teen. In the last eight years I’ve spent a lot of time talking to everyone I meet about these types of things. Gathering data on different people’s sexual history has helped me on my journey of observing people in their emotional environment. You can tell a lot about a person and how they interact just by knowing their sexual history. In case you guys are wondering, being my friend can be very uncomfortable. In my time I’ve met many women who love porn. I’ve met many men who have seen porn but don’t care for it. I’ve met couples that enjoy together to assist in developing their connection as a couple. I’ve also met people- male and female- that prefer porn and masturbation to actual sex. I’ve also met people who feel controlled and drained by it. Now if i believed the story I was told about porn and why it’s so detrimental to society these things don’t make sense. About three years ago I began to wonder about porn and the role it plays in people’s sexual lives. I wondered if it was a harmful drug that should be criminalized or if it was a private tool that is often abused. I also wondered why it was that it was so harmful for some but for others not even a temptation. I began to wonder if the negative side of porn was an issue because it was inherently bad and people were just wired to want to watch porn- or was there a reason why some were at risk for being addicted to porn. I started watching porn when I was twelve. It became an addiction by the time I was thirteen. It ceased to be a problem when I was in my early twenties. I’m going to use my experience and the information I’ve gathered from the patient people who have allowed me to grill them about their sex lives to sort of navigate you through my thoughts on porn. I think we all have the potential to be addicts. Johann Hari talked about addiction being the opposite of connection and as humans we need to bond with people and things to be truly happy. We all pick our addictions based on the need or situation we need relief from. We bond with what fills the holes in our psyche. Listening to Hari’s TEDtalk on addiction got me wondering about porn addicts and what commonalities I’ve seen in men and women with porn addiction. My dad,like myself, was raised by parents who were almost 100% emotionally unavailable. In the stages of development, the part where you learn emotional intimacy was completely skipped in both generations. In fact, most men struggle with being emotionally intimate and vulnerable. I think this is very telling fact when we talk about porn addiction and intimacy. I think back to all my friends who were heavy porn users like myself. We were all different in our upbringing and religions but all the exact same when it came to intimacy. As humans we need to bond and connect on a deep emotional level with at least one or two people. In a healthy person those people would be your parents and maybe siblings first, then maybe a best friend and eventually a partner. The guys I knew that had this were almost always the guys who didn’t really see the need to constantly watch porn. When I was eighteen my best friend parents essentially adopted me. They provided basic human training that I didn’t get as a child. Out of all the things they worked so hard to nurture into me the hardest was establishing emotional intimacy. There were thousands of awkward conversations a few tough love talks and that eventually turned me into emotional train wreck as I learn I could cry in front of them and tell them about my feelings. This led way to me developing tools to regulate my emotions and also be able to grow into a healthy emotional adult. This was possible because I had established the healthy foundation of trust and intimacy that made growth safe. I think most parents don’t understand the magnitude of their jobs in raising healthy children within the confines of emotional maturity. Now here’s the kicker…after awhile I stopped needing to watch porn. I also started to feel more comfortable with real life interactions and relationships. This was or is a slow progress because I’m still wary of intimacy but the point is I realized that porn was filling a need I had and it had everything to do with connection. If you think about it -what does porn give you? It gives you a visual representation of the most intimate act you can do with another person. Being human means having the natural need to bond and be intimate. I think when you can’t be emotionally intimate because you were never taught or because you have been hurt you find the next best thing and that almost is always porn which is physical intimacy as a replacement for what you’re actually craving. I think about all the porn guys I’ve met including my dad and I’m blown away by how much sense it makes. My dad is the king of not connecting. He lives his life by a list of rules and a structured theology that dictates every thing he reacts to. He often would tell us that his lack of emotions was part of his personality. He onetime told me that love was not a feeling but a choice which made me pity my mom a little because I couldn’t imagine being in love with someone that viewed their relationship with me in those parameters. My dad was emotional only after he had bottled up his feelings so long that he had to release it in spurts of bottled up rage. I can remember as a teenager just wanting me and my dad to be ok. I would constantly ask him if he was mad and even when he was so angry you could see it coming out of his ears he would say he was fine and make you feel like you were just crazy. One of the most baffling things to me as an adult is seeing another adult lie to themselves about how they feel. I don’t think my dad was lacking emotion. He had plenty. But he also did not receive the proper emotional upbringing and he had forty years of his brain coming up with efficient way to protect him from emotional stress he didn’t know how to process. If you get time read up of defense mechanisms…it’s fascinating. It’s funny that my dad to this day doesn’t know that the answer to every fear or relationship with his children he’s screwed up literally could have been avoided or at least repaired by doing the emotional leg work of learning the basic human tools of developing emotional maturity. He believes that his problem with porn was something he was born with and just has to fight and pray about for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know he could have easily started working towards emotional health and intimacy which would have eliminated his need for an addiction to replace his lack of connection. I’m holding out for him though. I think even at almost sixty he’s going to wonder why after all these years, prayer hasn’t helped his “emotional cancer” get cured and he’ll do what God probably wants him to do…work on it. Read a book, go see a therapist. God isn’t a wish granting factory. What all of this says to me is that maybe parents are fighting the symptoms over the problems. Maybe when you’re dealing with your teenager bonding with less savory things you should focus on what they don’t have that’s making them crave these things. I think that in this day and age we live in a society that completely ignores the value of flesh and blood connections and vulnerability. I think because of this things always seem very empty and bleak. We don’t invest in others or even ourselves. We just find things that gives us a false comfort as we watch the things we love burn at our own hand. And instead of putting out the fire we find excuses as to why it burns-and we sooth ourselves with false reasons and excuses as to why it’s ok and why we shouldn’t have to do difficult things. We tell ourselves that it’s ok because God will put out the fires we’ve ignited, we tell ourselves the fire is not our fault. And the fires continue and we wonder why and we cry that we can’t go through it again and we make ourselves the victim of our own emotional sloth and lack of responsibility. I always imagine God as the exasperated parent who is rolling is eyes and saying “are you kidding me, drama queen? Pick up a book and fix yourself.” I always imagine God as a hard ass military dad who loves you and helps you no matter what but also requires you to be an adult. I think if you struggle with intimacy or emotional maturity you really should double down on analyzing the role you play in your connections with other people. If you find yourself needing a replacement addiction for being close with people it’s about time for you to get ahold of that. Not because porn addiction is bad but because how empty you’re life must be to not be capable of connecting and investing and having relationships with the people you love deep down inside. Do it to be healthy. I promise you it’s a whole new world with a peace you can’t describe. And when I say peace I don’t mean security. Peace and security are two different things. And I can tell you peace is way better. You just have to work for it.

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Johann Hari: Everything you think you know about addiction is wrong

You get a rat and you put it in a cage, and you give it two water bottles: One is just water, and the other is water laced with either heroin or cocaine. If you do that, the rat will almost always prefer the drug waterand almost always kill itself quite quickly. So there you go, right? That's how we think it works. In the '70s, Professor Alexander comes along and he looks at this experiment and he noticed something. He said ah, we're putting the rat in an empty cage. It's got nothing to do except use these drugs. Let's try something a bit different. So Professor Alexander built a cage that he called "Rat Park," which is basically heaven for rats. They've got loads of cheese, they've got loads of colored balls, they've got loads of tunnels. Crucially, they've got loads of friends. They can have loads of sex. And they've got both the water bottles, the normal water and the drugged water. But here's the fascinating thing: In Rat Park, they don't like the drug water. They almost never use it. None of them ever use it compulsively.None of them ever overdose. You go from almost 100 percent overdose when they're isolated to zero percent overdose when they have happy and connected lives. Now, when he first saw this, Professor Alexander thought, maybe this is just a thing about rats, they're quite different to us. Maybe not as different as we'd like, but, you know -- But fortunately, there was a human experiment into the exact same principle happening at the exact same time. It was called the Vietnam War. In Vietnam, 20 percent of all American troops were using loads of heroin, and if you look at the news reports from the time, they were really worried, because they thought, my God, we're going to have hundreds of thousands of junkies on the streets of the United States when the war ends; it made total sense. Now, those soldiers who were using loads of heroin were followed home. The Archives of General Psychiatry did a really detailed study, and what happened to them? It turns out they didn't go to rehab. They didn't go into withdrawal.Ninety-five percent of them just stopped. Now, if you believe the story about chemical hooks, that makes absolutely no sense, but Professor Alexander began to think there might be a different story about addiction. He said, what if addiction isn't about your chemical hooks? What if addiction is about your cage? What if addiction is an adaptation to your environment? Looking at this, there was another professor called Peter Cohen in the Netherlands who said, maybe we shouldn't even call it addiction. Maybe we should call it bonding. Human beings have a natural and innate need to bond, and when we're happy and healthy, we'll bond and connect with each other, but if you can't do that, because you're traumatized or isolated or beaten down by life, you will bond with something that will give you some sense of relief. Now, that might be gambling, that might be pornography, that might be cocaine, that might be cannabis, but you will bond and connect with something because that's our nature. That's what we want as human beings. And at first, I found this quite a difficult thing to get my head around, but one way that helped me to think about it is, I can see, I've got over by my seat a bottle of water, right? I'm looking at lots of you, and lots of you have bottles of water with you. Forget the drugs. Forget the drug war. Totally legally, all of those bottles of water could be bottles of vodka, right? We could all be getting drunk -- I am right after this - -- but we're not. Now, because you've been able to afford the approximately gazillion pounds that it costs to get into a TED Talk, I'm guessing you guys could afford to be drinking vodka for the next six months. You wouldn't end up homeless. You're not going to do that, and the reason you're not going to do that is not because anyone's stopping you. It's because you've got bonds and connections that you want to be present for. You've got work you love. You've got people you love. You've got healthy relationships. And a core part of addiction, I came to think, and I believe the evidence suggests, is about not being able to bear to be present in your life. We live in a culture where people feel really increasingly vulnerable to all sorts of addictions, whether it's to their smartphones or to shopping or to eating. of hours. A lot of us feel like that, and it might sound weird to say, I've been talking about how disconnection is a major driver of addiction and weird to say it's growing, because you think we're the most connected society that's ever been, surely. But I increasingly began to think that the connections we have or think we have, are like a kind of parody of human connection. If you have a crisis in your life, you'll notice something. It won't be your Twitter followers who come to sit with you. It won't be your Facebook friends who help you turn it round.It'll be your flesh and blood friends who you have deep and nuanced and textured, face-to-face relationships with, and there's a study I learned about from Bill McKibben, the environmental writer, that I think tells us a lot about this. He looked at the number of close friends the average American believes they can call on in a crisis. That number has been declining steadily since the 1950s. The amount of floor space an individual has in their home has been steadily increasing, and I think that's like a metaphor for the choice we've made as a culture.We've traded floorspace for friends, we've traded stuff for connections, and the result is we are one of the loneliest societies there has ever been. And Bruce Alexander, the guy who did the Rat Park experiment, says, we talk all the time in addiction about individual recovery, and it's right to talk about that, but we need to talk much more about social recovery. Something's gone wrong with us, not just with individuals but as a group, and we've created a society where, for a lot of us, life looks a whole lot more like that isolated cage and a whole lot less like Rat Park. And I think the core of that message -- you're not alone, we love you -- has to be at every level of how we respond to addicts, socially, politically and individually. For 100 years now, we've been singing war songs about addicts. I think all along we should have been singing love songs to them, because the opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection. #addiction #connection #johannhari https://www.ted.com/talks/johann_hari_everything_you_think_you_know_about_addiction_is_wrong/transcript

[humanitysteeped-blog]

An Ode to Connections:

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

[humanitysteeped-blog]

[humanitysteeped-blog]

The Love Factor:

Since I was young my favorite song has been My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder. I told a friend recently that while the likelihood of my ever getting married was slim, I’d want that to be my wedding song. My family caters weddings so I’ve been to my fair share. Anytime that song would play at a wedding I’d stop and recognize my own desire to one day get married. I grew up watching people get married. On the flip side I’ve seen a lot of these people split up or get divorced. In fact, almost everyone in my family has been divorced at least once. Somewhere between the ages nineteen and twenty-four this love factor became lost on me. I most certainly don’t view marriage the same as I did when I was sixteen. What’s more important to note is that I recently realized that I don’t view love the same as I did when I was sixteen. My Cherie Amour recently popped up on my Spotify radio playlist while I was driving to work. I hadn’t heard it in awhile because I’ve been crazy busy trying to avoid my emotions for the past five years. As I listened to this blast from the past, which still is my favorite song, I began to analyze the small feeling of dissatisfaction I was experiencing. I think we all have these emotional cords deep down inside that we repress to the point of not even knowing when or why something’s pulling at them. Because I’ve spent so much time learning the tools of evaluating my behavior and my feelings I started to have a conversation with myself about why that song made me slightly sad and frustrated. I currently have a forty-five minute commute to work so I use this time to gather my thoughts and partake in some cognitive behavioral therapy. One thing I had to acknowledge was that for so long I associated this song with Love and romance. The song meant something to me at one point in my life and listening to it now reminded me of a time that I was far less cynical. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still very much a romantic at heart, but my perception of love and Relationships is much different than it was when I was sixteen. I’m less naive and I now have the ability to be emotional without being controlled by my emotions. At the same time I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my maturity level that changed or the amount of baggage I’ve acquired over the years. We look at young people in love as stupid and naive. We say they don’t know what love is and that they’ll never stand the test of time. And for the most part we’re right because during puberty your emotional and mental state of mind develop in very quick and complicated ways. Two teenagers growing in the same direction and still continuing to meet each other’s needs is rare. Not impossible, but unlikely. This is because relationships only work when the relationship is the centerpiece of both lives. As a teenager you still have you’re family, school and numerous other things you have to balance. Prioritizing these things after a relationship is difficult when you essentially have no control of your life. But I don’t think this means a teenager can’t experience true love. When I was sixteen I fell in love. When I look back I’m startled to realize how deeply and completely whole that love felt. My friend, Madam History, is also my roommate and I talk to her about life a lot. She’s been kicked around more than anyone I know and while to me she is the greatest and strongest woman I’ve met, she also may be the most jaded and cynical. I’ve watch her relationship progress over the past year and her journey from cynicism to comfortable complete love has been interesting for me, as an emotional anthropologist. After a two hour conversation about my most recent relationship endeavor I couldn’t help but flip back through the memories in my head to compare my first love to the most recent time I had fallen in love at the age of twenty-two. I don’t use names in these store but I’ll use the name of my first romance because I like saying her name. Lauren Huffman was my dream girl. A year younger than me and equally as passionate about film making, Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. We both listened to the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks and loved Phantom of the Opera. I still have the copy she gave me on my birthday eleven years ago. What’s important to note about our romance was the dynamic of how we interacted from the day we met. We were Too young to want to hide anything or to worry about the other judging us for our flaws. At that age your flaws aren’t as clear and threatening to you. Meeting her and being honest to her about what I wanted and what I felt was effortless. It’s easy to be rash at that age. We lived 6 hours away from each other and emailed everyday since cell phones weren’t a thing for sixteen year olds back then. After four months of constant correspondence we told each other that we loved each other and that we would marry each other. Now when I look back I want to laugh at how cute and uninformed we were about this cruel globe we live on. But here’s the thing…I have never loved to purely and completely since. When you meet someone you find attractive and interesting as an adult you automatically put up your “decorations,” as I like to call them. During that first date you maintain the positive parts of your true personality while prettying it up. You portray yourself as smart and funny and exciting. One thing you never do is admit that you hope the interaction will turn into something great. We pretend we don’t care or that we don’t want it so we don’t scare anyone off. As teenagers weren’t worried about that because we never had anyone leave us or call us clingy or needy. When we, as adults, meet people we create a story in which we say “being with me would be safe because I’m successful and I have big plans and I’m together.” Without realizing it we put it out there that we want the person we’re seeing to want to be with us. But we do this by trying to impress them with things that don't t really have any bearing on a relationship. Our silent plea for love masked as an elaborate shrine to our perfection is what fucks us up I think. Looking back, I then started to think about my experiences with being cheated on and how that changed how I related to people. As adults almost all of us have been hurt. I wondered how much of an impact that had on how I approached potential boyfriends and if whatever you loose when you get hurt is the very same thing that you need to have a fulfilling relationship and that’s why so many adults struggle and become jaded. In my love affair with Lauren Huffman I remember one thing more than anything else. The lack of doubt. The knowledge that there was one person on earth that would pick me over the rest. One person who would prioritize my feelings over everything else. A person who was completely in love with who I was- good and bad. Someone who knew what parts of me were broken and didn’t care. In a situation where this is reciprocated you get absolute bliss because hiding parts of yourself is draining and isolating. I thought about my adult relationships and how there was always an element of distrust and self consciousness. I think I’ve always blamed my trust issues on this but I’ve started to wonder if my lack of willingness to be honest about my whole self is the main reason that true love hasn’t come knocking. What if two people being open and honest about the negative things they feel is the key to mutual safety that creates a bond of loyalty and dependence which is what makes love happen. In comparing my past to my present I feel like love was nothing more than a lot of ugly honesty without judgment. When I go on dates I have an unhealthy way of flirting. I poke fun at things the other person does or enjoys. I do this because I’m so hungry for honesty that I feel it necessary to let him know every time I don’t like something. I think this has always set the tone for my dates never turning into something great. I subconsciously let them know that the things they love are not safe with me unless I also enjoy them. This send out the message that trusting me would be a huge mistake. The truth is that isn’t how I feel at all. It’s just a behavior I’ve learned to make me feel less awkward about not being an authority on something. I once went on a date with a guy who loved sports. I have no interest in competitive sports. I think I told him a thousand times I hated sports. The truth was I really liked this guy so I would have went to a thousand sporting events just to see him get excited about sports and would have had a blast. People are drawn to other peoples passion even if they don’t share the passion. We just learn to hide that and be assertive about what we like and don’t like. Another habit of mine is acting nonchalant and then trying to switch to willingness in the span of one hour. I start out like I don’t care and then have a few beer and tell the other person I really like them. Now if you think about it, having someone spend their time with you playfully dismissing your interests and then admitting they want to see you again is off-putting. So I can’t really wonder about why my romances always stress me out. I’ve spent so much time wondering why guys drag their feet and want to play games when maybe I never gave any guy a date that was safe to invest in. I think the combination of creating a safe place for another person where their interests and opinions are valued and where you are honest about what you love sets the tone for something good. That sets the stage for a situation where things like feelings and fears and dreams can be shared without expecting judgment. This leads way to emotional intimacy which when combined with sex creates trust and a small amount of dependency and a whole lot of happiness. So the question still stands. Are teenagers naive and stupid or are adults so distrustful and jaded that we accidentally ruin true love because we’ve been taught to not invest? Are we now so selfish and scared that we don’t make other people feel valued or safe to the point of staving off what could be an incredible connection? Have we as adults continually killed potential love stories over and over again because of our fear of opening up and accepting everything about other people? I can’t help but think that the next time I meet someone I like, I’ll want to be honest and accepting. I’ll want to tell them how cool it is that they like what they like and that even though I may not be interested I’ll gladly let them share it with me. I’ll also want them to know that everyone has baggage but that they shouldn’t be afraid because I do too and so does every other person in the world. I’ll want to prove this to them by sharing small things about what I feel and fear and love. Maybe that’s going to make the difference. Maybe that where true love starts. With safety and the acceptance and value of everything in this world that is beautifully broken. I guess I’ve realized there’s always someone you can blame for being who you are but only you are to blame for how you make people feel and the evidence of that is in your relationships. I want to be someone who makes everyone feel safe. I want to be someone who cherish the personal parts of everyone he meets. I want to be someone who actually loves. And maybe that’s the love factor we’ve all forgotten. Maybe that’s the secret key. I’ll find out and get back to you.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be somebody’s crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don’t want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it too.” -Stephen Chbosky

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Growing Up Godly:

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

[humanitysteeped-blog]

An open letter to everyone I've ever left:

I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here. Here meaning this place life has me in right now. It's awkward and weird and weighted which tells me theres a challenge I'm supposed to overcome. I'm not sure what it is or why I've been presented with this -at a time where I've been feeling my life is almost perfect. It feels like a set back even though I know it must be one of those things I've been avoiding that is probably the next big accomplishment for me. I've found that when things make me want to run because they're stressful or hard; it's usually because I'm on some uphill climb and I'm getting ready to overcome it. This is what I tell myself to push towards growth. It hurts because it's worth it-because it matters, I read that somewhere. And I'm not sure what part you played in it or what made you stand out to me. Maybe I sensed a similar struggle in you. Maybe you withheld just enough to tell me exactly what I needed to know. Maybe you were just easy to be around because you weren't pretending in the same way everyone else I know is pretending. There's a lot of comfort in honesty even if it's a little dirty. Sometimes I think the people that show you that broken side of themselves are the people we really want to be around because there's something relatable and there's understanding. I can't really say that I want to be more than your friend regardless of where I'm at when I've had a couple beers and I'm horny. I blow hot and cold a lot of the time. I didn't tell you that I was cheated on once and it changed everything about how I interacted with people. It made me cold and judgmental. It made me unsure and unwilling to even want to connect. It made me an asshole because after that the only way to protect myself was to belittle other people's differences or tease them for being outside what I liked or what I was comfortable with. I've spent the last year trying to train myself out of the behaviors that I've carried with me to keep me from being the victim again. I've also tried to hide all the parts of myself that are a little broken or messy. I think I do this because I never want to be that guy that was cheated on again. I want to fix my nose or my shallow chin or my taste in books because all those things made up a guy who was obviously easily lied to. For five years I focused on hiding the things about me that, in my own healing process, I decided were the reasons for what I dealt with. I think that's why I felt the need to lock you down as soon as possible. Hot or cold. I either run....or probe for some premature commitment before investing. The truth is I've never wanted to "date" anyone since. I obviously wanted to participate but dating is hard and compromising. Why would I want to spend a large amount of time having to be open and unselfish with my time and energy. I already did that and it got thrown in my face. After we hung out I got to thinking about if you hadn't also experienced that and if so, how funny it is that everybody deals with these things in different ways. I think that's why I forced myself to continue to pursue you. Typically if I'm not chased after by people I don't engage. Only the people that prove to me right off the bat can be my friends. That's just the way life has shaped me. I'm trying to change that. I'm not even talking about romance at this point, this is just with people in general. And sometime last year I realized that the person who fucked me over was done with my story the minute I ended their chapter. I realized that while I could blame them for teaching me not to trust, it was my own mechanical ways of healing and protecting myself that have screwed up my social/romantic life since then. Being cheated makes you not invest. I talk a lot, you probably picked up on that. But I talk a lot about nothing important. I open up and share because I know that's what I'm supposed to do but I do it in a way that makes me seem smart and fun and deep. But I don't think these things make me particularly relatable. I don't think they make me someone that can help people or make them feel comfortable which are things I very much want to do. There's this small ugly part of myself that has a lot of expectations for the people around me but I don't hold myself accountable for the role I play in their lives. Or at least I don't present myself that way. These are things I'm working at being better about. I think there will always be parts of me that are broken and messy and I'm learning love those parts of myself and to embrace those parts of other people. I'm trying to be less arrogant than I was raised to be which is hard because arrogance has always kept me safe. I don't know why...I'm literally trying to figure it out right now...but I feel like I needed to tell you this. I think mostly because you're almost a stranger who doesn't know anyone I know and that's safe. But also because out of all the friends I could have told this to, you just stuck out as a necessary recipient. It's weird. In case you're extremely uncomfortable right you should know I have no desire to date you...or anyone at this point. It wouldn't be enjoyable for me right now and I wouldn't invest in the right ways and that would just be a disaster. I'm Having too much fun these days. There's a part of me that wants to be your friend because maybe we can help each other and also having a drinking buddy that isn't terrified of New Orleans is awesome. But even still my social anxiety would probably make that a task and I'd like to not have to rely on alcohol to enjoy a persons presence. I'm telling myself that maybe in some small way you'll benefit from reading this and if so I'd like to think being honest about the way I feel about myself made someone else journey a little better. And if you got nothing out of this that's cool too because I know I needed to express this for my own growth. While this seems like a sad correspondence, it really isn't. Haha. I'm actually a lot better having written this out and I did something for me even if I don't know what. I'd like to end this by saying that you're a really interesting person. You're genuine without trying to be and very kind which is rare. I think someone would be very lucky to date you, guy or girl. And I'm telling you this because I don't know if you hear that enough. You should know you're very special. I know very little about you but I hope that you know whatever you've experienced or whatever may have hurt you in the past isn't really a reflection on you. I've learned to tell myself these things. I'm really not looking for a reply here I guess I just wanted to sort of leave this where you could find it if you needed it. I wish you the best.

[humanitysteeped-blog]

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Party Down:

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

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

[robinshcerbatsky]

I was a big slut, but I’m not anymore.

[listentothestories]

I am practicing being kind over being right.

Matthew Quick, The Silver Linings Playbook (via listentothestories)

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Nola Pride Parade 2k17