I look back at 2017 and I get the sense that there were many years compressed into one. I realized it is because I was trying to be more mindful and quiet and I was not on autopilot. I didn’t try to distract myself from what I was thinking and feeling as often. I acknowledged my emotions better than I ever have. I even accepted the uncomfortable, painful and embarrassing ones. So much life that I would have hidden from or ignored, I enjoyed. I apologized when I was wrong and forgave when I felt wronged.
2018 will be filled with more joy because of what I’ve learned in 2017. Learning to practice meditation has been key in pursuit of peace. I define who my family is, loving someone doesn’t mean I can’t let go, love isn’t a reason to allow my heart to be hurt or used. I can love deeper and stronger if I take care of myself first and it isn’t being selfish.
I will continue to work on my mental health and feel less ashamed of my illness. I am going to continue to develop positive, healthy relationships. Keep investing love, time and energy into my wife and our family. And work harder than ever to put it within my power to protect my family from financial worry.



I’ve been struggling. Much has happened since last year that has had a tremendous impact on me. It has translated into an inability to keep from breaking down into anxiety.

It is so hard for me to accept that my strength and self-denial can’t overcome depression or a panic attack. My mind can’t bully my body into behaving this time. It isn’t easy like learning not to shiver in the cold or not feel hunger.

I hate the knowledge I’ve been granted about the existence of someone fragile and vulnerable that makes up a part of me. He has a need to be handled gently, kindly and with love. He wants to be able to rest and lay down his armor without fear of attack.

I have to acknowledge his need to exist alongside all my selves.


Self Loathing

Deuteronomy 21:18,21

My mother made me help her get my sister’s dog into the back of our old beat up 9 passenger station wagon and hold it back there. The dog and I were in the third seat that faced the back window. I saw our house fade into the distance as my mom drove many miles. Then there were no houses only cotton fields that seemed to grow right up to the edge of the world.

Suddenly, the dog and I lurched forward as mom pulled off the road and hit the brakes. She told me to put it out. I opened the door and pushed the dog out and told it to stay. I still remember the sad and confused look on the dog’s face as we drove off. I never knew if it was my sister or the dog being punished. I never saw the dog again either.




It happens in the early mornings drinking coffee in the gentle sun. Or when something beautiful happens, and I feel the need to share. I’ll pick up my cellphone then quickly set it back down, it hits me like a fist hard against my chest, my mother won’t answer my calls anymore.

She drifted away so slowly from me as the Jehovah’s Witnesses pressured her. Too busy to plan anything then missed calls and unanswered texts began the process of disengaging herself from me. I’d stop over, but no one ever seemed to be home. I never believed she’d genuinely shun me for being gay.

I tell myself, I’m an adult I’m not a baby that still needs her mommy. I don’t need silly Spanish lullabies or a hug as a safe harbor from a shitty world. I will create my own family circle where love isn’t conditional or something to be shamed over. Piece by piece I will remake my broken heart.


When my mother’s cruelest cut was to say, “you disgust me.” life would become a battle against my nature with scripture and spirit my sword and shield. God would be my coping skill.

Slaying my worldly thoughts and desires day after day. Self-inflicted cuts upon my own heart and soul were praised and honored. Flagellating my curiosity until I no longer questioned.

Lovesickness forcefully coming through my dreams into reality. My cry came unbidden, deep and guttural at what I’d discovered. Love more potent than fear of disappointing and causing shame. I committed to an authentic, truthful self.

Reborn, no longer shackled, no longer chained.

Reborn outside my mother’s womb, I am no longer her child.

I am no longer a child.



In a flash, I became conscious of your love’s searching touch upon my heartstrings. I believed myself impenetrable, of stone and steel, not blood and bone. Gently you’ve been guiding me considerate of my inexperience. Eyes locked, slowly you move with me, pressing me into your heart, your hand on mine. We will grow together, independent yet intertwined.



My goal for today is to eat, drink (lots), and think about all the blessings of 2020.

I know things last year were so strange and difficult. There was loss and heart break over people who left us too soon, people facing financial difficulties because of the pandemic, and a lot of people acting like Black lives didn’t matter. But not everything was awful either. It’s those things that I want to remember and focus on. The new allies against racism and social injustice I made, personal growth and the deepening of already existing bonds of love and friendship. There were some beautiful moments in amongst the messy muddy angst of 2020, for myself anyway.

I’m not making any new year’s resolutions. Or did I because I resolved not to resolve?🤔 🤷‍♀️

Past, Present and Future Tenses

I find myself standing in a dimly lit room.

Broken record spinning on a victrola in a cluttered room. “Fucking ha..” “.. dicho pasado…”

“Shoot your self in…” the needle jumps

“neva gonna …” it skips bouncing back and forth. I understood few random words but they were angry.

Gingerly I place my hand on the disk and stop it from spinning. I look around me. Stacks of disks and I know they all contain dark memories, the bad ones. Rejection, jealousy and shame they were all here. It felt familiar. Every time I’ve felt my body get hot and prickly, stomach in knots pretending and smiling through hurt. Those memories were all there.

The scene then shifts.

I’m standing in front of a door, my hand on the knob. But I don’t feel like going in. And the thought of not entering felt fascinating.

The Nature of Dreams

One one-thousandth of a second.

Something in the atmosphere triggers my rage long before my brain can process the cause. Betrayal! I begin to radiate heat along sharply angled paths from the center of my chest. All my muscles tense up, and my head starts to throb.

Two one-thousandths of a second.

A quick breath followed by another helps me push down the anger. In and out slowly. The unfamiliar scent upon you identified as the trigger—the breath allowing the mind to catch up and process intelligently what the lizard brain can’t. Flowers held behind your back now thrust to me, surprising me.


I dreamt that I was a young child maybe four or five. I was scared and confused because my room was being emptied item by item by an invisible force. I tried to save my precious things but they disappeared too no matter how hard I struggled to hold on. I was alone in the house I didn’t have anyone who could save me. I knew that once the last thing disappeared I would be next and the thought filled me with terror and, relief?


For years you’ve searched and longed to find your bliss. Yet when the moment presented itself you let fear steal your joy. I stood mutely while you destroyed your opportunity. I had to let you live, die and relinquish my expectations that someday you’d know happiness.