Guest Post - Biggest Fear

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

~~~~~~~

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.

She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.

Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.

The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.

The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.

Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.

I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.

~unknown

The Door

I'll let you in on a well-known secret. I suck at home improvement. I can't do much of anything in that respect. I try, and I do the things that I can afford to screw up on. However, the big stuff will have to be left to the professionals.

So when my brother-in-law came to visit, I asked him how to do some weather stripping on one of our doors that has suffered over the years. "Oh, there's this little insert do-hickey at the bottom that pops in there. Simple." So he showed me how to take it off. I went to Menards and found a replacement, I cut it off to the right length and bingo. Didn't even have to take the door off.

Then I was walking towards the laundry room a week later while Tracy was getting ready to take the kids somewhere, and since it turns dark around, oh, 2pm, the lights of the car were on. I saw this wide strip of light under the door. Great. Time to put the skills I learned and replace the strip on that door. Hmmmm. No way to do this without taking the door off. Well, I'll wait til a warmer day and when I have help to get the door on and off. I had about a week before a time presented itself. Tracy and I had some time free so "Let's do this thing!"

Tracy clearly was not that excited to do it. Clearly and unmistakably. Being the insecure relationship dude that I am, I thought back to a repair we worked on during our first year of marriage. Let's just say without reservation, I was an ass. It was one of the times where I think I was on my worst behavior. I go back to it because it was such a contrast to how I want to be. Even at the time, I knew I was an ass. No reflection necessary. It was one of those profound moments when I thought those girls that broke up with me were right, that there was something wrong with me and the thing I craved the most, a strong relationship, was out of my reach because I truly was an ass. So my mind went back to that. I tried to be as kind and polite as I could to show my wife, who has put up with so much from me, that I am a nice man and that she shouldn't leave me because our door is now off its hinges.

We went to Manards with the old part in hand, picked up what we needed and headed back. She helped me with putting it in the slot and getting the door set up. When I wanted to put some grease on the hinges before reassembling them, she warned me not to get any grease on her. Well, of course, I'll try not to get any on her. I'm already stressed by our pending divorce because she was sending out waves of emotional disgust by having to do this. While the door was hard to close because of the fresh insert, we wouldn't be losing much heat from that door this year.

I made mention of it later, letting her know how uncomfortable that was for me. Best to get it out in the open. So, was the problem with how I acted 26 years ago? "No, I just didn't want to do it. I was happy being lazy. I can't even remember about what you are talking about."

OK, she doesn't remember. Thank the Maker. But I remember it and it was a lesson to me. I have bouts of assitude occasionally and I try to learn from them. I probably shouldn't write or talk about them anymore, lest the accumulation of history makes her realize that she's better off without that crap in her life.

So, life is good here. I hope this holiday season is all good on ya too.

Dellyce

I met Dellyce in my first year of college at Brigham Young University. At least, that is what I'm told. I find the details rather murky. I guess that is what age does to you. Still, I can't say I knew the moment even at the time. I just remember her being there. Looking back, she just was one of those constants during those years, always present, as if she belonged there. Of course, my dating her roommate had something to do with that. What followed that year was the building up of one of the most trusting relationships I've ever had. Through that year of double-dating, I got to know one of the most engaging women I have ever known.

Dellyce, at least as I knew her, was a quiet and reserved person. I say that as more of a contrast to myself. I had an extroverted humor and a quick tongue. I remember so well her looks toward me when I said something risque or a little off color and her muted chuckle. The knowing glances we shared told me a lot about her. She had a wicked sense of humor.

I want to write a little bit about the period when I spent the most time with Dellyce. It seems a bit egocentric considering that in order to write about what I know about a person, I have to make mention of what was going on in my life but I'm not sure how else to approach it. The year before my mission was one of the best of my life. I built friendships that I wanted to keep the rest of my life. George and Dellyce were some of the closest friends I had up to that point. I remember one moment in particular on a double date we had up to Temple Square to look at the lights. When looking at the Christus through the window from outside, I was overcome with gratitude for my friends, for school and how things were turning out with me. I am particularly driven by gratitude in my life and for the love of friends and in my thankfulness for being with such wonderful people, I committed to go on a mission.

The best year of my life (at least to that point) was followed by my worst. I relied on George and Dellyce for emotional support through it all. I felt so dependent upon the few people that I remained in contact with and I'm so happy that George and Dellyce were there for me.

After returning, I had limited contact with them because I was immersed in my schoolwork. I remember vaguely the times when my fiance, Tracy, and I visited them, probably for tacit approval of our relationship, as their opinion meant a lot to me. I attended their blessing of Richard. George also took our engagement photo and was there for our wedding, also taking our wedding pictures after the ceremony. For some reason, they tolerated my rambling and horrid humor for all those years.

After graduation, Tracy and I moved to Southern Utah and later to Phoenix. We made frequent trips back to Utah, always making sure we visited to renew our friendships. That tradition continued even after moving to Chicago and my trips back became less frequent. Often I or my family would visit and stay with them for a time. Dellyce was sometimes there, sometimes not as she was also out and about visiting her family.

One of the last times seeing Dellyce was during a visit where my life seemed to be falling apart for a lot of reasons. It was particularly raw because there were so many things I was trying to figure out and any guard I kept over my emotions was absent. If there were any two people I felt I could trust with almost anything, it was these two. It was a very emotional trip for me and they still didn't cut any ties with me afterward. I couldn't find two better people for me to meet and bond with so many years previous.

Earlier this year, George called and told me of Dellyce's illness and her decision to not seek treatment. Within an hour Tracy had me booked on a flight so I could go and say goodbye to my friend. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to tell her but I hope that she knew how much she was loved by Tracy and me.

I can't say I have any profound things more to say. I'll miss my friend. She saw me at my best and my worst. She tolerated my irreverent humor and her smile and laugh are permanently enshrined in my memory. Of the few people I would do anything in the world for, she was one of them.

I'll miss you Dellyce. Until we can get together and make fun of Utah again, I'll do what I can on my own. I'll also continue to pester George as much as I can.

To Those Intelligent, Beautiful Women that have Graced My Life

Having passed a particular milestone, seeing 50 years in the rear-view, I should probably pay homage to those women that have made my life richer and well, tolerable really. This list isn't exhaustive so if I forget or don't mention someone and they feel slighted, please understand that 50 years is a lot to hold in retrospect during a blog post.

My first confidant was my sister. All through High School, she is the one I told my secrets, challenges, and frustrations. I can't tell you how important she is to me.

Dating. Dating was a mess. I knew that I wanted a strong, deep relationship in my life but I knew during High School just how unprepared I was for it. My first date was taking a girl to Burger King and she kept looking at me like there was something wrong with me. When I called her, she was guarded. She probably didn't know what to do with this guy that just wanted to find out what she was about. Short lived non-romance. 

Serious dating wasn't all that much better as I entered college. The first girl I had a longer term relationship with was frustrating me and for the first time, I realized the social pressures involved with mutual friends and the larger circles of culture. It didn't end well.

Between my first and second years, I had several dates while at home away from Utah. I was just starting to become at ease with longer, deeper discussions with the women I went out with. While in Utah I found it hard to get a girl to notice me because I wasn't a "Returned Missionary" yet at home, girls wanted to go out with me because I did interesting things and I was smart and going to a good school. I was also getting rid of my awkwardness bit by bit. 

Then I dated the woman that would probably affect my life, or at least expectations, more than any other. She was real. I don't know if that makes any sense, but when you meet those real people, or at least become aware of them, it affects you. Smart, witty, sarcastic, independent, not afraid to speak her mind and let others know what her opinion was, she was someone that I envied and looked up to. Even if her frustrations were directed toward me, I took it as an opportunity to improve. 

As I started to become an emotional basket case as mission and school pressures started exerting themselves, I was still driven in trying to improve. Unfortunately, the mission drove me into a depression (which I didn't know what it was called until much later) that changed me into someone I hated and loathed. I crawled my way out of it determined to become a better person. While in one area, a girl befriended me and helped me understand myself to the point where I wanted to name my future daughter after her. She and her family provided a haven from my self-imposed prison. After so much rejection day after day, any bit of acceptance was so welcome.

I was a different person by the time I came back to BYU. I know I was more confident in myself and I knew that I was going to date like mad. I wanted to have some fun. I wanted to find someone that might understand me. Yes, school was the priority. I was in engineering. Dang right it took most of my time and effort. Still, I knew now the kind of person I was looking for.

I can't say that they were that easy to find. 

Almost immediately I fell into a relationship that I didn't want with someone I didn't respect and I knew it. Still, having real conversations, adult conversations, with the women around me let me know that I needed someone else. Right off I relearned again that breakups can be messy. More so when the women were older and knew the buttons to push. 

I worked at the stadium that summer and fall and I worked with a woman, an engaged woman, that had such a wit and quick mind that I swear I was staring in awe of her most of the time. The fact that I could hold a conversation with such a person was a marvel in itself. I mean, I knew that intelligence, and not just emotional intelligence, was attractive to me but I didn't realize how strong it was. I never attempted to do anything untoward with this woman, but it just reinforced how much I needed this kind of person around me. I had no ego in that I needed to be smarter than the women I dated. I felt very comfortable with the idea that some of the women I might date were smarter than me. 

I changed who I was dating at the time. If I didn't feel that spark, that chemistry right off, I didn't date that person long. I was trying to find that someone and I wasn't wasting much time. One of my roommates once commented when he saw me with a girl, "Which one is this?" 

Dating Tracy was different. I had two semesters of German with her so I knew a bit about her before I ever asked her out, and that chemistry was there, at least for me. Still, I've been in more one-sided relationships before and this was quickly taking that route. After a few dates, and even though I was crazy about her, I wasn't getting any response from her. I wasn't angry, I was frustrated. But, and this is major for me, I had enough respect for myself that I wasn't going to waste my energies with someone that clearly didn't want to be with me. I was still dating others that wanted to be with me, nerd that I was.

And then Tracy's mother talked to her. Next thing I know, I'm spending all my available time with this clever, wonderful woman (Tracy), the one that wasn't interested previously. Twitterpation merged more with a comfort than I ever felt before. Not saying that I wasn't still awkward and clumsy, but as we spent time with each other, we fell more into a rhythm. I guess that's how it goes.

I've always found it easier for me to talk to women, and that really didn't change much over the years. As Tracy and I lived on, we wanted to have a family. We adopted Hayden. When we felt that there was room in our home and hearts, we tried to adopt again. That was an expensive and laborious process as we wanted to adopt internationally, to help those in dire straights. During this period I spent a good deal of time getting to know a woman I worked with that was from Bolivia. She lived an interesting life and I felt honored to be her friend and make her laugh once in a while. When my church was going to stop the adoption program we entered, I didn't know what to do. Tracy had called and told me and I was beside myself. I walked the quarter mile from my side of the building to where she sat and I promptly lost any and all composure. I was weeping in her cube and she realized that I was in no mood to drive. She drove me home, with a stop along the way where we talked some more, and I cried some more. I can't thank her enough for that afternoon that she spent with me, trying to recover enough to function.

Then came Facebook as well as some pretty in-depth reading of philosophy in religion and things started to become uneasy. I connected with people that I didn't think I would reconnect with in my lifetime. I was coming more empathetic in my outlook and questioning events and decisions in my life. I went up to Wisconsin to talk to a woman I've known, loved and respected from my college days. I didn't have an agenda but I did want to talk about my life before I met her because I was becoming brave enough to talk about it and I wanted someone to hear me, if nothing else.

Shortly thereafter, my life came crashing down all at once, or so it seemed. I know it took time, but it felt as though everything changed so quickly. My beliefs left me. I needed to recontextualize my life. While I learned to open up with Tracy, our marriage became strained and I wondered if she would still love me and respect me as I felt like I became a different person than the one she married. Hours and days and months of talking and re-examining our relationship followed. I don't think I ever appreciated her more as we worked things out and recentered on each other.

During all of this, I found friendship and support from a woman at work with just talking about things as we walked around the building. A woman in Wyoming and I spent time talking about relationships and books and helped me cope with long-buried feelings. A woman in Oregon helped me by letting me write, letting the narration in my head have an outlet.

I also couldn't leave this period without giving my thanks to a woman I attended High-School with but never really spoke during that time. Talking to her about our mutual friends and our different lives helped me find myself and discover the person I have become. I cannot thank her enough for the support and time spent talking about our lives and goals.

Lately, I haven't had any existential dreads in my life, but I do want to mention another woman that I worked with briefly, but we chat often. She helped me rediscover my love of learning and she tolerates my age-addled mind. She was born the year I left on my mission so there is quite an age difference, on top of the numerous cultural differences, our having been raised on the other sides of the planet from each other. Still, she helped provide the impetus to get me back to the screens to learn new ways of doing things.

I don't know where I would be without these wonderful people in my life, and I hope I can still learn from them to become a better person than I am now.

Probably Didn't Count On That

I was just thinking about expectations. We all have them. I considered some of the expectations of my own life. Sometimes things don't meet expectations though. This is when I thought about what my parents might have expected. The church I used to attend gives people a lot of expectations. You see, because if you don't meet their expectations, you don't get to have your family in eternity. And if you personally don't meet their expectations, you don't get to go either.

Did my parents raise good kids? Yes. Well, eventually. Maybe they moved around a bit in the morality of their youth, but they are good people. Still, in a religion where the family is paramount, two of their kids don't have their own families, at least in the 1950's definition. My brother never married. My sister is a lesbian and is married to her partner. Me? Well, I married. No kids for awhile, at least until we adopted. So we have an african-american son and two hispanic children. We do have a naturally occurring child between us too. But in the past few years we had a "faith-crisis" or what may be properly called a "truth-crisis" and we left the religion that we grew up with.

So, did my parents get their expectations? Maybe not. I can't speak for them. However, we are a different bunch. Are we still good kids? Yes. Darn good kids if I may be so bold. My parents have a wonderful family. Do they consider us good kids? I don't know. I know by the standards of my former religion, I'm a miserable apostate, not to be trusted. My sister is partly responsible for the downfall of society, and my brother is, at best, available to the lower parts of heaven because he never married.

The damage in this is because my religion has taught each of us that we are "less than", my parents and absolutely my former church considers us "less than". I have felt that way for most of my adult life. No more. We are flawed people, but we are also somewhere high in the Awesome Scale.

For a bit more of this and how it affects people and our happiness, I offer this video from Thinker of Thoughts and Stuff.

Someone says...

Someone says "I am depressed" and our first instinct is to regale the goodness of their life, how 'not sad' it is.

A woman whispers "I am afraid of him" and we throw our bodies into recounting the times in which he looked so gentle, so smooth, no hard edges at all.

A person braves their own identity--tells this frugal world they have no gender, no box to check, and the world spits back dispute. "Impossible," we say, "your experience of yourself is not enough to convince us you exist."

A football player kneels quietly during a song and the crowd goes wild. Three fists are raised during the same song and the crowd bursts into flames. A father is shot with two silent hands in the air and the crowd turns into stone.

I don't need to watch the video. Fuck the debate. Hundreds of thousands of Americans tell us "I am afraid and I feel unsafe because of the color of my skin" and we have the audacity to debate it. "But was he a good man? How many priors did he have? How many children? And with how many different women? Tell us *how* scared. Is it daily? Can you sleep? Are you shaking? Can you go to work? Good. Go to work and be grateful! We've come so far! It's just one bad apple."

Does it sounds too cliche to say the orchard was built on mass graves? That we refuse to see the roots from up here? What metaphor will make this more palatable? Someone tells us their truth and we turn the record over, replace the needle. Repeat the refrain:

Personal accounts by people of color of daily encounters with racism (from subtle micro-aggressions to state-sanctioned violence) are not enough to convince white America that this problem still exists. And that, I am afraid, is proof that humanity is a choice. #blacklivesmatter #terrencecrutcher

P.S. If you're white (like me) and you're tired of these hashtags, imagine being tired of a body count. What a privilege it is to be annoyed by a pound sign and a name. If you think now is the time for a compassionate and righteous "all lives matter" retort, your attempt to unify humanity does the opposite.

EDIT: I want to add two things. First, I wrote this directly after listening to Danez Smith recite excerpts from "summer, somewhere." Go. Read. Listen. (www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/detail/58645)

Second, I want to address something Najah Amatullah Hylton rightfully pointed out when sharing this status: this is "a white person say[ing] it nicely." I am a poet. I am white person who is good with words. I can make ugly things sound pretty. Wrap them up with a shiny ribbon. I am not brave for this articulation. At most, I am risking a few arguments on Facebook with strangers, not my life. Let's examine what package we chose to receive the truth in.

~Sierra DeMulder

The Day You Read This

The Day You Read This

On this day, you read something that moved you and made you realise there were no more fears to fear. No tears to cry. No head to hang in shame. That every time you thought you’d offended someone, it was all just in your head and really, they love you with all their heart and nothing will ever change that. That everyone and everything lives on inside you. That that doesn’t make any of it any less real. 

That soft touches will change you and stay with you longer than hard ones. 

That being alone means you’re free. That old lovers miss you and new lovers want you and the one you’re with is the one you’re meant to be with. That the tingles running down your arms are angel feathers and they whisper in your ear, constantly, if you choose to hear them. That everything you want to happen, will happen, if you decide you want it enough. That every time you think a sad thought, you can think a happy one instead. 

That you control that completely. 

That the people who make you laugh are more beautiful than beautiful people. That you laugh more than you cry. That crying is good for you. That the people you hate wish you would stop and you do too. 

That your friends are reflections of the best parts of you. That you are more than the sum total of the things you know and how you react to them. That dancing is sometimes more important than listening to the music. 

That the most embarrassing, awkward moments of your life are only remembered by you and no one else. That no one judges you when you walk into a room and all they really want to know, is if you’re judging them. That what you make and what you do with your time is more important than you’ll ever fathom and should be treated as such. That the difference between a job and art is passion. That neither defines who you are. That talking to strangers is how you make friends. 

That bad days end but a smile can go around the world. That life contradicts itself, constantly. That that’s why it’s worth living. 

That the difference between pain and love is time. That love is only as real as you want it to be. That if you feel good, you look good but it doesn’t always work the other way around. 

That the sun will rise each day and it’s up to you each day if you match it. That nothing matters up until this point. That what you decide now, in this moment, will change the future. Forever. That rain is beautiful.

And so are you.

~PleaseFindThis, "I Wrote This For You"

I was doing some quote seeking a few years back and I stumbled upon this author. I bought the book and I was so impressed by the feelings expressed in the pages. It's a good read. This was just the latest that I found and I wanted to share it with those that might be interested. I wish I was so adept at the language to write things like this.