Slowing Down
Unarguably, this year was fucking hard.
Every year is fucking hard.
That’s modern life, honestly. And to set ourselves up for the best of mental and emotional success each year, it’d probably be helpful to set the expectation that, yeah, this new year is going to be damn difficult, too. So, let’s go ahead and plan for 2024 to be super difficult… at moments. But it’ll also be incredible, amazing, life-enriching, life-changing, and fucking empowering at other moments… just like this year was.
But I do have to do a bit of loving-kindness toward myself and acknowledge my personal pains from this year. Yes, I’ll try to be inspiring and shit with this post, but I also need to give myself some space to be fucking human and recognize turmoil that encapsulated much of this year for me.
A nearly year-long divorce process pulls endlessly on one’s heartstrings, even when it’s their choice. And the near loss of a business that not only puts food on the table but enriches my soul sent me through an earthquake that I’m just now starting to gather my footing from.
Still, there is much to celebrate:
Over 1,000 life coaching sessions helping nearly 200 LGBTQIA+ folx empower their mental wellness
The launching of a non-profit foundation to ensure those facing financial barriers still have access to quality mental health and wellness support
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I started working on this blog post on December 1, and everything that I wrote so far was from that day. Since then, I’ve been formulating my thoughts in the back of my head, and it’s now December 21, and I want to show my writing process. I don’t want to scrap what I’ve written so far, but I want to show the trajectory of shift of my mental perspective that’s been occurring as we round out the year.
And so, I’m probably going to treat this more of a journal because that’s what I personally need right now.
Over the past three weeks, I’ve been slowly emotionally traveling from a space of gratitude and celebration to tiredness and exhaustion. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still extremely grateful for all that I’ve been given this year. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work my ass off for our community, and I’m eternally grateful for the community I’m surrounded with (y’all know who you are).
Still, I have to acknowledge the hurt, the pain, and the shit. This isn’t a pity party; this is an essential part of the healing process. If I’m going to let go of the pain, I need to welcome it, feel it, and embrace it first. I have to sit with it.
We often socially feel like we’re not supposed to feel our emotions, particularly the ones that make others (or ourselves) uncomfortable — you know, these emotions: sadness, depression, anger, frustration, grief, annoyance, shame.
When I was a kid, people in my town loved my smile. I’d always hear how happy I made other people, just by being me. This felt really amazing, and it was truly such an honor to serve in this role. Even to this day, I still receive this feedback from time-to-time, and I’m grateful for it.
It does carry with it a tiny side effect: when I’m human and naturally not happy 100% of the time, it makes people realllllllly uncomfortable. If the happy person isn’t happy, what does that mean for us? There can be times where I feel alone and lonely because the happy person isn’t supposed to feel sad, depressed, or lost.
Looking back on this year, I think I did this quite a bit. I think I put my non-happy feelings in a box from time to time to pretend everything was fine.
But don’t let me be dramatic here — it wasn’t the hardest shit I’ve ever been through. But it’s still things I, again, have to spend some time with in order to move through them so I don’t get stuck in ‘em.
This’ll be the only time I talk about this — and I’m only doing so because I know sharing our stories is a way that we can learn from and support one another, so I hope there’s something helpful here for you that can support your own growth, journey, and relationships.
Yes, I ended my marriage. We were together 5 years. Things were great and lovely at first. The initial dating time was a lot of fun, and I carry some very precious memories from this time. Sending letters while he was at basic training and waiting for his call over the span of a couple months was romantic as hell. We got married so we could be together, influenced by military’s requirement in order for me to move down with him.
But when I step back and look at this time more objectively, even when I go back and look at some photos of myself from this time, I realize that I was not happy, and I was looking for happiness in something other than myself. I was looking for someone to make me happy, someone to make me complete, someone to make me feel not alone. I was looking for something to fill a gap and space in my heart — a gap and space that I needed to sit with myself, but I was too afraid to do so. It felt less scary to bring someone else in to mask and cover up the things that I needed to look at the most.
You see, I’ve had a lot of hurts throughout life — self-hatred stemming from religion and the lack of acceptance of my own self and identity, teenage suicide attempts, sexual trauma. I spent so much of my formative years thinking I was unlovable because I was gay. I felt like the church told me it didn’t love me because I was gay. I felt like my community didn’t love me because I was gay. I learned to not love me because I was gay. I tried finding this love in the first guys I dated, but my hurting self was too much of a weight for them to carry, and they all eventually went looking for deeper connection, sex, and lightheartedness in others. I just found myself alone again. And so, there was something so appealing about the romanticism of being a military spouse — in a strange way that I’m not sure will make too much sense as I type this out, there was almost a safety attached to it that mimicked what I imagined relationships felt like in the 1950s (relationships that likely weren’t necessarily happy, but they were welded together — you know, that ‘til death do us part’ thing).
There was a major issue here though that I let slip through under my radar — I never really asked myself if marriage is what I wanted for my life. AND I rushed the process without actually dating each other, getting to know each other, and exploring if this was a best connection for the both of us.
The more our life became enmeshed, the more I was able to explore these concepts for myself. And what I was finding was quite damning. When we first moved in together, it was a blast. Going to the grocery store, adopting pets, driving around our small Texas town, making new friends, watching Drag Race, cooking dinner together — it was quite lovely. We’d wrestle every day and we’d make each other laugh all day long, doing jump scares and recording stupid silly videos on Snapchat. The intimacy started to shift, and it felt more of an obligation, then a disconnection. Then began conversations of exploring intimacy outside of our relationship, and we weren’t on the same page. There was fear from my end because I’d never navigated anything like this before, and I didn’t know if I wanted it for myself or my relationship. But we viewed sex totally differently in completely different perspectives, and I thought this could be an opportunity for me to see sex in a new light (as something transactional as opposed to the emotive connection). Looking back, for me, I think this was the seed that planted the beginning of my disconnection — I didn’t listen to myself or trust myself and what I really wanted. This made me feel like we were on two different pages, and I couldn’t get this understanding out of my head for the rest of the relationship. I hit snags when it came to who’s responsible for what regarding household chores, our different priorities with life goals, and our different priorities with work.
I think I’m drifting from my main point, so let me circle back — over time, as I felt like we dated in reverse (dating after marriage), I learned that, for me, this wasn’t a match. Because I learned more about myself in the process. I could ask myself what I wanted. I began exploring what I needed for myself and my life. I faked the hell out of a lot of things, and I tried my absolutely damnedest to fulfill the pretty picture of what our marriage could have been, but I was just straying away from myself, and I knew this wasn’t sustainable.
In finding myself, I had to cause the most hurt I’ve ever caused to a person (and to the community around us). But ultimately, the conclusion that I came to is that the very best thing I could do for him (and myself) and the absolute best way I could love him was to let him go, to release him from my bond so he can go find the fit that’s better for him, so he can find love that he deserves, more than I can give him.
But this is fucking hard to do.
Anyway, that’s one of the things I’ve been dealing with this year, in addition to running my business, trying to support my friends and family as best as I can, and figuring out what the hell my life is about.
And so, we arrive at the end of the year. My coach encouraged me to take a look back on this year to find all that I can celebrate, and I so badly want to do this, but again, first, I have to feel the shit. And in feeling the shit, I’m recognizing the immense stress and emotional gravity this has been causing me. I just feel fucking heavy.
I usually don’t set specific New Year’s Resolutions, but I instead tend to set intentions for the new year. Typically, I pick a word or a phrase that I want to serve as this upcoming year’s theme. Past words have been “congruence” and “stability” (interestingly enough, stability was this year’s, and even though it was full of disruption that I chose, I am indeed feeling more stable than before).
My phrase for this upcoming year is “slow down.”
I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. I need to rest. My heart needs to rest. My soul needs to rest. It needs to breathe. I need to just sit with myself. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what’s coming up next, I don’t know what lies ahead. And quite frankly, I don’t care. It’s not for me to know right now. What I do need to know — and do — is take each day one moment at a time. Take it slow. Take it as it comes. Allow it all to be. Allow everything to be here. There’s much I’m excited to learn about myself, and I’ll learn it along the way. I don’t have to set a plan or a checklist of personal growth — it’ll come when it comes, and I’ll figure out where I’m going as I arrive at those checkpoints along my path.
And so, that’s where I’m at. I don’t know if any of this made any sense. Or if it was helpful. Or if anyone cares. But, I hope it was helpful, and I hope you can pick out something from here that is supportive of you and your emotions right now.
Anyway, thank you for being here. Thank you for being you. I love you, and I’m super grateful for you.
Let me know if you need anything, and I’ll see you when I see you.
In rest and rejuvination,
Kevin