The Strangest Thing Just Happened

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were in your mommy’s womb
Her body was preparing room

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday we gave you your name
Now our lives are not the same

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were being born
My heart became more fully formed

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday I held you for the first time
You were so small, oh child of mine

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were in the hospital
Now you’re home and on the go

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you were curled upon my chest
Lying there and getting rest

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday we laid you in a bassinet
But now a crib is where you’ve slept

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you learned how to crawl
Now here you are walking tall

The strangest thing just happened
Just yesterday you could but cry
Yet soon you will be asking “why?”

The strangest thing just happened

Life Is Pain

Pardon me while I ramble. Somewhere in these thoughts, maybe you’ll find something of value.

I’m turning 40, and one thing I’ve learned over the years is that life is painful. The older I get, the more I feel it in my body. Youth is fleeting, but it leaves behind a trail of wounds, injuries, and scars in its wake. (Even after I started writing this post, I experienced multiple instances of pain. I kicked a baby gate with my left foot and burned my right arm on the same day. Later in the week, I got bitten by one of our cats on that same arm.) I see life’s pain in our world with all its chaos and uncertainty, especially from just the last 5 years. I also see it in general as I get older; the longer we live, the more we face the loss of loved ones to death or broken relationships.

But that’s life. Life is filled with sadness, pain, and tragedy. In this, it becomes easy to accept the move from rose-colored glasses of childhood to jaded cynicism of adulthood. Because of this, the phrase “faith like a child” means something.

Ironically, our modern cultural is built around pain avoidance, all the while pain is all around us and in some ways reminds us we’re alive. We try to flee it or numb ourselves to it. We want everything to be “safe” and “sanitary,” but that’s not life. That’s existence, but that’s not life. Anyone with a child can tell you life is messy.

It’s not to say that life is just terrible and tragic, full of ugliness and misery. No, while pain is a part of this life, life itself is so much more than a downward doom spiral to the grave. This life is also filled with joy, laughter, and beauty that can’t be described or adequately captured with even the best camera. But these are reminders that pain and suffering aren’t all we have.

Over the last 40 years, the world has changed a lot, each decade abounding with more and more changes, both good and bad. As I look back over the last couple decades, I can see ways I’ve changed and ways I’ve stayed the same. I’ve changed in ways that I might not recognize myself as the person I used to be, but there are also parts that are still me.

In the past decade alone, I’ve experienced pains (some mentioned above) and celebrations. I’ve changed jobs, gotten married, had a child, and recently written a book. Each event an occasion to celebrate.

As I watch my child grow, I get to watch her experience the joy of simplicity, the wonderment of learning, and the trials of childhood. Trials that are trivialities to an adult. She possesses an innocence that seems all but lost in today’s world. Her world is not the big chaotic globe we all trod. It’s the home we live in, the people she knows, and the french fries she eats. She doesn’t yet know how messed up and painful the world is. One of her biggest “afflictions” is a parent disappearing for a few minutes into a room she can’t access. To her, this feels devastating.

Although she’s just starting out in life and I’m much further along, we both can and will experience pain to some degree or another over the years. But we’ll also experience joy and laughter. Somewhere between the two is this chaotic yet beautiful thing we call life.

My cat bite after a couple days

On Being A Father

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, -Psalm 127:3a

Today is Father’s Day. And in honor of Father’s Day, I wanted to share some thoughts about being a dad.

I didn’t used to know how much I’d like being a dad, but being a dad is one of my greatest joys and privileges in life. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s always easy; because it’s not. Even just a few months in and with a mostly easygoing baby, it can still be difficult at times. Babies get messy, and they cry for reasons you have to try to figure out (food, usually food). Sometimes you might even get upset yourself. At them. But at the end of the day, there is something indescribable about being a parent. Though I can’t speak for what it means to be a mother, I can speak from my experience as a fledgling father. If I were to make a book on the joys of fatherhood at this stage, it would just be pictures of shirts covered in spit up and vomit. Sure it’s gross and will never not be gross, but beyond that grossness are cherished memories and precious time together.

While my daughter is just a few months on the outside of the womb, fatherhood for me did not begin the day she was born. It began months prior, as I was being prepared mentally and emotionally to begin my new role and be ready to step into dad mode. In many ways, nothing changes for a man when a child is expected. As a man, I am unable to experience pregnancy, to feel the movements, the quiet expectations, the internalization of what is happening to me.  It’s only through my wife’s words and sonogram visits that I got a glimpse of what now is. (I’m thankful I work at a place that allowed me the opportunity to be at every appointment.)

That first sonogram made knowing I’m a father real, seeing the form of a tiny human, seeing those little undeveloped arm nubs, watching and hearing that tiny heartbeat for the first time. If a heart could smile, such an experience would’ve made my heart smile. We didn’t yet know if it was a boy or girl, but in those moments, it didn’t matter. There on that screen was our little bean. (Incidentally, it was in the shadow of Roe v Wade being overturned that we experienced this joyous occasion, and I couldn’t help but also be repulsed by the barbarity of those who pretend this isn’t what we could clearly see.)

When my daughter was born, she spent her first couple weeks in NICU. The reason wasn’t life-threatening per se, but it was enough to warrant a stay. In those days, weeks, and months leading up to our baby’s arrival, we were willing to accept parental advice from others. (It’s our first child, and we had no idea what we were doing.) But in all that advice, there was no preparing for this. Whatever we had thought or hoped might happen, we ended up spending days driving to and from a hospital to stay with our baby for a while, only to go home without her and do it again the next day. We even had icy weather that kept us away one of those days. It was a rather unpleasant time of uncertainty, but we were so happy and relieved when we could finally take our baby girl home with us.

Every once in a while, you might hear “my child taught me this or that.” My daughter is still an infant, so I can’t really say she’s taught me anything, but she gives me a reason to smile. More accurately, she is one of my reasons to smile; when I smile at her, she smiles back. I have resting baby face (in polite terms), and I don’t often think about smiling. I tend to be more focused on my own thoughts or whatever task I’m dealing with at the moment. But if I want to see her smile, I often must smile at her first. There are times she smiles unprompted, and I feel the urge to smile back. Sometimes she smiles big, showing gums and all, and that’s one of my favorite things in life: big smiles from my little girl.

Being a parent means a lot of decisions, responsibilities, and sacrifice. Needless to say, fatherhood is not always glitz and glamour; maybe it never is. Unfortunately, too many men abandon fatherhood too quickly, in some case before the baby even arrives. They run away from the responsibility of parenthood, but they also miss out on things that make it special, such as just holding one’s own baby. I’ve held babies of friends and family, but there’s something special about holding my own baby in my arms, watching that baby fall asleep on my chest, even with the unspoken understanding such moments won’t last forever. I know my daughter won’t stay little forever. (Admittedly, there’s a part of me that wishes she could, but that’s not how life works.) Maybe it goes without saying that there’s incredible responsibility as a parent, but there’s also joy that comes with being one. In spite of all the diaper changes and spit up, holding my own baby is one the most special experiences I know of, and it makes all the challenges worth it.

As I mentioned, I’m just starting out on this journey called parenthood, more specifically fatherhood, so I don’t have any deep insights about raising children. Although there is more that I could say about being a dad, I’m still learning how to raise an infant. I can’t see how my baby will turn out, and I don’t know what mistakes I’ll make along the way either. I do know my baby won’t be a baby forever, so for now I’m going to hold her close and enjoy my time with her while she still is. Spit up and all.

Transgender Translator

Update: Added TERF, Womanface, and updated Transgender

There’s a lot of confusion going around as to what words really mean, so here are some simple definitions of a few basic terms.

Ally – One who will tell the truth another may not want to hear

Biology – Study of living organisms

Female – Human capable of being impregnated via sexual activity

Gender – Polite word for sexual distinctiveness of male and female

Male – Human capable of impregnating via sexual activity

Man – Biological adult male

Pronoun – Definable first-, second-, or third-person substitute for a noun

Sex – Biological distinctiveness of male and female

TERF – Truth embracing reality figures

Transgender – Stereotype/caricature of the opposite sex, gatekeepers of the type of person other people are allowed to be attracted to

Transition – Become surgically altered to appear as a gender stereotype

Transman – Woman who lacks self-respect

Transwoman – Guy who lives a lie

Transphobia – Fear of speaking out against the lies and self-deception of harmful reductive stereotypes, opposed to gaslighting

Woman – Biological adult female

Womanface – Like blackface, but targets women

Local Resident Identifies as Adverb [SATIRE]

BISBEE, AZ -Local resident Arno Yesman made news when he came out as a porgskal and openly declared he now identifies as his own adverb and any other parts of speech that would not him put into a grammatical box or allow for any sort of conversation without him feeling personally offended.

“Claiming your own pronoun has gone too mainstream; I’m trying to stay ahead of the curve by identifying as my own adverb. Depending on my mood and the day of the week, I could even identify as my own preposition. People shouldn’t assume my part of speech and try to start conversations with me.”

When asked for clarification by a reporter, Arno explained, “Today I was feeling very snoghspy, but sometimes I woppsikally jazz it up. Wait, is today Bjoursdey? The sknoooban festival starts soon.”

When told he just said a lot of nothing, Arno called for cancelling the reporter for being close minded.

Transgenderism Is Linguistic Bait-and-Switch

Language is the basis of communication, for without language, there is no communication. However, whenever language is coopted or perverted, miscommunication and chaos are inevitable. These are not mere pitfalls on the evolution of language; they are the destination. When people can’t agree on what something means or find common understanding of terms, communication becomes difficult, if not impossible. This is even more so when simple words are deemed undefinable. If you say “cat” and I picture a squirrel, dog, or pylon, we’re not referring to the same thing. If I keep pressing that we are referring to the same thing, dialogue becomes problematic.

We’re living in an age of subjective science based on feelings, rather than objective observances. If I were to say gravity doesn’t exist because I don’t feel it, one need merely point out objects falling to show gravity does exist as something specific. But if I claim falling is when things go up, one can either accept my truth that falling is when things go up or counter this by dropping an object and possibly be labeled a “graviphobe” for disagreeing. Congratulations, gravity now has two opposite meanings. Add more definitions or non-definitions to “gravity” and multiply that by a big enough magnitude, conversations about gravity require excess steps of clarification that might not even clarify.

People can identify by identifying.

At some point in the recent past, people decided certain basic biological words don’t really mean what anyone thinks they mean or have no meaning at all. Now others just have to accept non-definable terms as reality without question or risk being labeled a “phobe” or worse for objecting to being forced to accept this distortion of language as truth. (Incidentally, “phobe/phobia” used to mean fear of something specific; now people use it when someone else disagrees, while elevating that disagreement to fear.)

These days people can identify as the opposite sex merely by identifying as it. People need not describe what it actually means to FEEL like a man or woman or why they feel that way, but simply to stand on it as such and force others to accept it as reality. What does being a man feel like? What does being a woman feel like? What does feeling feel like? These are not questions explored, but declarations shouted from the Twitter tops that “hey, I’m a woman now because I said so!” Asking what the word “woman” means is often met with “someone who identifies as a woman.” I am a circle; therefore, I am a circle. One can either accept this as truth or counter with the biological understanding of woman and be labeled a “transphobe” for disagreeing with this assessment. Congratulations, “woman” is now an empty, meaningless shell of a term.

One of the effects of emptying these terms of definable qualities or features is that if “man” and “woman” are amorphous terms, then claiming to change from one to the other doesn’t mean anything. Conversely, if the terms have set distinctives, changing is impossible. Either way, it’s a self-defeating premise. The irony is that this supposed change affirms that men and women are different; it just doesn’t know how.

Unrelated but related

Supposedly, gender is unrelated to sex; some people will tell you gender changes, but sex does not. However, those who claim this view either fail to realize or fail to acknowledge the immutable gives way to the mutable. In order to accommodate gender change, biological physiology gets modified, terminology gets unnecessarily wordy, and/or clarity gets murky. Instead of using biology as the de facto understanding of what a man or woman is and helping people come to terms, word usage is manipulated to enhance the confusion. Actual woman is relegated to such terms as “vagina owner*,” “person who can get pregnant and bleed” (excessive wordiness good for a 2,000-word paper), or “gestational parent.” While these words are technically-correct descriptors of women, they sound more clinical than personal and come across as condescending. However, the implication in their usage by people who do so without a hint of irony is that men can fall under the umbrella of womanhood just by looking like a woman, while overlooking the fact that man cannot do these things anyway. Also, for things that aren’t related, descriptors of sexual function are still used to make distinctions.

https://genderinstitute.anu.edu.au/sites/default/files/docs/2021_docs/Gender_inclusive_handbook.pdf

For something that’s unrelated to sex, transgenderism is also couched in the numerous acronymic letters, the first three (at least) dealing with sexuality, not genderality. We’re told there’s a spectrum of genders, but if there aren’t only two genders, the first 3 letters are rendered meaningless or broadened into nonsense. Transgenderism undermines and rejects homosexuality as a concept; otherwise, it requires an inconsistent logic to maintain itself. Additionally, it implies people are really attracted to shallow abstract ideas represented by people, rather than people themselves. If someone is attracted to a specific sex and not simply someone else claiming to be a specific gender, that person becomes the bad guy in a lot of people’s minds. One doesn’t have to look very far online to see people get offended because others aren’t interested in entertaining this distortion of terminology or biology.

Switch-and-bait

If sex and gender use the same word but one has to distort the other into confusion to validate itself, this reveals the reality. In essence, this view that men and women don’t have set distinctives, one can become the other simply by declaring it so, and anyone who disagrees is reduced to a negative label is psychology gaslighting biology, telling it to take a back seat.

Men and women are different biologically, but transgenderism sees people as nothing more than interchangeable parts and empty terminology. Being biologically different doesn’t mean men and women shouldn’t be viewed as equals. Women have fought hard just to be recognized and taken seriously irrespective of their biological designs. If a woman can be easily replaced with a biological man who claims to be a woman, it’s hailed as a breakthrough in the name of progress by many; however, it demonstrates men and women are not truly viewed as equals. Why have someone who could get pregnant and might be away from a job for months when you can get someone without the capacity to become pregnant because they look superficially the same. Why pick for a sport someone who’s not as physically strong/fast as someone whose biological structure gives a physical advantage, if he just claims to be a she. Conversely, if a woman is only respected because people thinks she’s a man, she’s not actually respected. Just look up female authors who used male pseudonyms to have their work recognized.

This substituting one sex for another and calling it legit is nothing more than linguistic bait-and-switch. In any other line of thinking, bait-and-switch is frowned upon; if someone tries to sell you one thing that is really another, they are (or should be) called out on it. This is not the case with transgenderism. People are expected to bend over backwards trying to accommodate something that isn’t definable and even warps language into incoherency and apparent contradictions.

This is where we find ourselves today. Confusion and chaos. And people are just supposed to accept it without question. Those who oppose this line of thinking or point out its flaws are labeled as “phobes” in order to shut down opposition.

Image result for joseph goebbels the lie

*Body part ownership makes them sound detachable and/or transferrable like pieces of property. I don’t own my body parts; they’re part of my whole.

Addendum: transgenderism breaks gender stereotypes by reinforcing gender stereotypes. Rather than saying boys can play with dolls, people have decided dolls are for girls. If a boy plays with a doll, people claim he’s a girl, which reinforces only girls play with dolls.

Ode to Mike

(Originally published June 2, 2010)

Has it been so long?
A year has past,
Since the time
We saw you last

But you would not want
For us to be sad,
But rejoice in the Lord
And to always be glad.

Quite a character,
You’re one-of-a-kind.
No one else like you–
Oh, not that I mind.

You were warm and friendly
And always around.
Right where we left you,
You’d likely be found

You were hard at work
There was just no slowing.
You didn’t seem to stop.
What kept you going?

Though some look at you,
Might see half a man
Bad leg, sight, and sound
And lacking in hands.

While we take for granted
All that we’ve been given,
You didn’t complain.
You were too busy livin’.

You’d give God the glory
And all of the praise.
Though hand incomplete,
You’d still have it raised.

So with a fond farewell,
I bid you adieu
Until up in Heaven,
When I’ll walk with you.

Michael “Video Mike” Pyzdrowski
R.I.P.
June 2, 2009

For My Father-In-Law (On His Birthday)

I mentioned previously that my father-in-law passed away earlier this year. Today (Dec 7) marks what would’ve been his 70th birthday. In honor of his birthday, I wanted to share the full text of what I wrote for his memorial service.


I’m not holding onto You
But You’re holding onto me

These lyrics from a Casting Crowns song that remind me God is holding on and not the other way around have been a comfort during this sad and difficult time; the day I learned of Jim’s passing, those words kept playing in my mind while I was driving. I don’t cry very often, and I like to think the light rain falling that day was for the tears I felt unable to shed, but listening to that song and being reminded that God is holding on allowed me an opportunity to cry for Jim’s passing. 

The day I heard he passed, I knew I wanted to say something at his service, but I didn’t know what at the time. I only knew him for not quite three years before he passed, so I don’t have any deep, meaningful, or funny stories to share about his life. In the time I’ve known him, his health limited his travel ability, so almost the only time I spent with him was when Jaimee and I would visit Denton. The most meaningful one-on-one conversation we had was the day I talked with him about marrying Jaimee when I asked him about his life, but there were things I still didn’t know about him until Jaimee and I were sorting through photos for his slideshow.

Jim, or as I had started calling him “J-Pop” in recent months, was by no means perfect; he was a man rough around the edges. He was stubborn with a sarcastic sense of humor; we connected over that shared style of humor and a love for his daughter Jaimee. There’s a special place in his heart for Jaimee, being his only daughter, his only child. Both are strong-willed people, and they had their disagreements, but at the end of the day they loved each other. I know he wanted to see her happy and was glad he lived long enough to walk her down the aisle, even if it was only part of the way. 

Before we met, Jaimee was his primary caretaker, so he came to depend on her for a lot. I never said it before he passed, but there were times I felt as if I took her away from him, but sometimes change motivates growth. When Jaimee and I first got engaged and she was getting ready to move out, Jim went into denial that his little girl was growing up, but he eventually came to terms with what was happening. Once he accepted she was moving out and getting married, he started to do more things for himself for a while, which improved his demeanor, but at some point his health began to decline again. Because he had health problems, lived alone, and was a bit of a distance from us, we wanted him to think about living in a retirement community, but being the stubborn man he was, he didn’t want to leave his house or his cats. He loved those cats and took care of them, often at the expense of himself and his health. I’m not sure if he loved Jaimee or his cats more, but he didn’t have pictures of his cats around his house or in his wallet.

Since he didn’t travel much, there wasn’t a lot we could do together, but after Jaimee and I got married, we would go to Denton to visit every few Saturdays, spend some time together, and maybe play Spades or Farkle with Jim and Janet. You need four people for Spades, and Janet wasn’t very good when we started playing, but Jim taught her to become a much better Spades player and a more-formidable opponent. Even though we didn’t do much together as a family, those visits would brighten his day.

We also liked to joke around together. While playing games, he would jokingly tell me to watch out for Jaimee as if she was trouble. As we would get ready to leave for the day, he would jokingly tell her to take care of me like I was helpless, and we would tell him we take care of each other. We shared other jokes and sarcastic quips together over the last couple years. Jim may be gone, but his sense of humor lives on through Jaimee.

God’s timing is never our timing. Jim was months away from turning 70, a milestone we would’ve liked to celebrate together. He may not have lived as long as we would’ve liked, but he lived longer than even he expected and got to see his only daughter get married. We wish Jim could’ve lived a few more years, maybe one day get to see and hold a grandchild, but God had other plans. We may never know why Jim was taken from us when he was, but I am reminded that God is still here; he is in control and has His reasons, and He is still holding onto us, and this has brought me comfort as we mourn Jim’s passing. We’re told in 1 Thessalonians – which the pastor read for us– that we who are in Christ don’t mourn as those who have no hope; hope in this case is not a wishful longing, but an assurance of what is to come, that we will one day see our loved ones who have died in Christ; though we grieve now for Jim’s passing, one day we will see him again.

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Jim, we love you and miss you. For now we say goodbye, but someday we’ll see you again.

jim

Sometimes Tomorrow Comes Alone

(In honor of my father-in-law, who passed away in early June)

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Ten Years Later…

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It’s been about ten years since my life first took a change for the better. I didn’t know how much could change in that length of time, but looking back I can see how different my life looks compared to what it was.

The short version is my life was going nowhere. I was stuck in empty routines and living with untapped potential. I was somewhat self-enclosed and shut off from people around me. In some ways, I struggled with depression and didn’t have much sense of self-worth. I felt as if no one knew the real me or cared. I had what I call “hello, goodbye” relationships.1

I grew up in the church, so I know what it’s like to live in a “church world” bubble and not see or understand what’s going on in the rest of the world, to not care about what’s going on around me.  It eventually became a place I went to, something I did, a mindless routine in a week of nothing. For a little over 24 years, I stayed at the church I was basically born into and the place I got saved, but I finally decided to leave a place I had grown up and venture somewhere else. By the time I left, there was a generational gap between most of the people and myself; my brother and I were the “young adults.” It’s hard to feel a sense of belonging if there’s no one to relate.2

Prior to leaving I had felt little real world connection and instead retreated into an online world where I had connected with people I didn’t know in person. Ironically, I developed some lacking social skills by interacting with people online and being part of their virtual community. I was (still am sorta) part of a LEGO forum that allowed me to express myself and connect with others in ways I hadn’t previously learned.3 I’ve since had a chance to meet some of these people and develop some friendships with them.

Before stepping out of what we knew, my brother and I were invited to visit a few church locations, one of which we chose to become members. There were plenty of people around our age, and there was some activity for such people, the first such event for us being June 17, 2009. So we settled in, though I stayed for about four years. In that time, I began to cultivate friendships with people my own age and more or less left the online forum for real world relationships. (This was also when Facebook and social media started taking off.) While I was part of this community, I did have a chance to travel to Hungary a couple of times and teach English at a summer camp, which was something I’d never done before. (It was also my first flight… two birds, one stone.) Eventually the number of young adults began to decline– along with other changes, and I again started to feel as if something was missing.

Before leaving there, I had been part of Bible study comprised of people I didn’t at first know but grew close with. It was led by a couple who became like mentors to me; they taught me things about myself and helped me grow into adulthood like no one else before. Under their guidance, I got my first “real” job, bought my first car, and moved out of my parents’ house. But then came the time the couple moved to California. It was bittersweet. We were sad to see them go but happy for their new beginning. Also, we had become somewhat insulated within our group, and after they left, the group kind of fell apart for various reasons (not necessarily all bad ones). We each branched out in different directions; some of us still keep in touch, but for the most part, people have since gone different ways.

That job I mentioned was not the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it did allow me an opportunity to grow as a person and develop some work skills, but it was a night job, so it also severely isolated me more than I had been previously and made me really feel the need for other people in my life. For five-and-a-half years, I worked nights and didn’t have much opportunity for social interaction outside of work. Since I worked nights, I was perpetually tired and miserable; I learned how much I had taken sleeping at nights for granted.4

Once the Bible study group dissolved, I felt more and more alone. I was living by myself and still working nights, and there weren’t a lot of people my age around me. Several months later, I wound up at a new church community with people around my own age, which was cathartic and helpful. For a time in my life, being around older people made me feel sad and somewhat depressed. But I was able to overcome this difficulty by building that missing connection of peers. I eventually found myself having no problems with being around people of any age group. However, due to my work schedule and living arrangement, there was so much I couldn’t be a part of, so I still had very little social life.

As I mentioned, I lived by myself part of the time I working nights. I managed for two-and-a-half years, and I learned more about myself. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I opted to find a roommate and ended up in house with some other guys. Within a year of moving, my life took a few more major turns, and this was again for the better. I managed to find a job that is better in so many ways. After several years of working nights, I was finally able to work days and soon began to feel alive again.5 Soon after starting my job, I met the woman I would marry within a year’s time. : Since I began my daytime job, I was able to get better transportation (and I drove happily ever after, right?).

Aside from connecting with other people, being part of my current church community has allowed me creative opportunities like never before. During the time I felt little connection to the real world, I would write for myself in a journal because it seemed no one paid attention. Then I started relating to people online and in the real world, then began writing for audiences beyond myself. Eventually I figured out to some degree who I was as an artist and learned to write and share more openly. I’ve had some public performances, which I’ve enjoyed.

As I look back and reminisce, I see how my life is different. During the past 10 years, my life has had several changes, major and minor. There’s a lot more I could write about: of celebration and loss, of new places and experiences, of things learned, and the list goes on. But there are decisions I regret and mental reminders I’d rather forget, things I wish could’ve gone differently, but that is the past and cannot be change. 

I may not have always seen God’s hand during my circumstances or understood why at the time, but I know He has brought me through for a purpose, even if I don’t know what. I may not have always focused on God during these last ten years of transition, but I know He’s watching over me. All I have to do is look back and see how my life has changed from someone who basically wanted to be left alone to someone who is learning to love other people and enjoys being alive.

Who knows what the next ten years will bring.


The kind in which people ask how you’re doing, and you say “fine/okay” and they say “good” and move on.

There was one older guy I talked with about stuff, but he had passed away shortly before I left.

The Internet is such a wonderfully-interesting tool.

I have a perpetual reminder of my job via tinnitus in my left ear.

I still have issues with sleeping at times, but for the most part I feel more energized than I once did.