"I'm Back"... and rusty.

I've spent the last seven hours tracking down this blog, trying to get into the email address from 2011 in order to ACCESS the bloody thing, and then a period of trance-like, compulsory reading... pouring over my own words from a time long ago enough that it's almost as if the last few years never happened. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- I can't decide exactly how to feel, but my cheeks are wet and my eyes sting. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- (That sentence right there should tell you so much about one of my greatest personal pit-falls. I'm leaving it because I haven't slept in three days and I know that sometimes THIS frame of mind will teach the better-rested version of me some valuable lessons. C'mon, BIG D... you CANNOT "decide" how you feel!! You oughta know better by now. The ONLY thing you can really "decide" is how much you choose to numb yourself to those feelings.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fair enough. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sad. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm really, really sad. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's 2016 and we just had our first day of spring. My last post was in 2011. It was a distracted and disjointed piece of writing. (Isn't all of my writing?) I had plans to escape to Moab. It was like I gave up on the story right before the third-act reveal... right before the shit hit the fan. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- What happened?? -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did I escape?! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh... I escaped alright. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just not exactly in the way you might think. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's more white hair in my beard now that I've reached the magical age of 33 which we attribute to Jesus as his time of death. Frankly, despite my tears, I must always remain grateful that I'm still breathing at THIS age. Seriously... I'm surprised I out-lived him. The list of things I should NOT have survived has gotten MUCH longer. I've wrecked numerous cars, a motorcycle, suffered multiple bleeding MRSA infections, survived a few suicide attempts, and overdosed who-knows-how-many times on nearly anything and everything you CAN overdose on. Hell, a couple of those overdoses weren't even intentional! I truly and honestly went COMPLETELY by accident, the way really I hope so many overdoses have gone... John Belushi, the bassist for Slipknot, Brad from Sublime, Philip Seymore Hoffman. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I would quit for a period of time, hold it together really well for that same period of time, then... poof, one day it feels like all the good is gone and you know (and I do mean, KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt) that you're a ticking time-bomb and, if left to your own devices, you WILL stumble and fall. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sometimes that fall lasts an hour. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sometimes you stay fallen for weeks. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some falls span years or decades. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some falls... well, they never end. You fall right through the bottom and you don't happen to be one of us lucky ones who woke up, got taken to a hospital, or had someone there to do your breathing for you while you turn blue and flop for 30-45 minutes. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Have you ever actually done CPR on someone for 45 minutes? I'll write about that in the next blog. This one wasn't meant to be my own personal Trainspotting, but instead a combination celebration/reckoning of the nostalgia I feel for that 29-year-old who wanted to go live in Moab. I wonder where I'd be right now if he'd have followed through. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ That saying: "In 20 years it will be the things you didn't do, not the things you did do, that you most regret..." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's complete horse shit. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Feeling like that does NOT take 20 years. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You can easily feel that way in 5. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't even know who will see this anymore. Blogger probably isn't even a thing these days. I figured the chart I saw that said my page had thousands of views was a load of bollucks. But then I started reading the comments. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Read it or don't. The days of thrusting my writing on other people belonged to the last guy who wrote on here. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm a little more beat up than that guy, but also "harder" in some good ways. I've been to the proverbial "there" and done more than just "that"... I've done "those!" Spent a few months in jail (well, a FEW jails) and ended up walking out a much leaner, better-read, and more disciplined man than the drunk asshole in my mugshot. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In many cases I'd love to be able to go back and warn him. I'd choose to keep that Moab Dan soft and naive. -------------------------------------------------------------------- My experiences have left their marks on me, but I am not a product of my environment. Sure, the places I've gone and the people I've been around have both played a HUGE part in the person I am today. But that's peer-pressure, a desire to please, misguided love or even simply a lack of self-discipline exacerbated by a "negative" opportunity. -------------------------------------------------------------------- I'll tell you more in my next blog. I'm happy to be writing again. I'm happy to be alive. I can feel my heart beating. Words make me nervous. I can never seem to find the right ones. But DAMN do they excite me at the same time. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Words like would've, should've, could've... they're really just implements of torture in your choice of font. Love and Hate both have countless synonyms, but they are the ONLY opposites in the English language that can occupy the same space at the same time. Light and Dark can't do that. Large and Small are also mutually exclusive. But the LOVE you feel when finding the perfectly-crafted arrangement of words happens to live right next door to the HATE you feel when fruitlessly searching for the right words and coming up empty.

Moab Body Shots

A friend said: "Kiss a red rock for me!" Instead of just kissing a red rock while in Moab this weekend, I decided to do one better. I took a body shot off of her. I found a salt deposit on a red cliff face, licked it off, took a long slug of silver tequila, then bit directly into a whole lime. I won't lie... it was the manliest shot ever.

So, it turns out there is quite a job market in Moab for the adventurish and bummish... of which I am both. I will leave as soon as possible. I will make sure to still find ways to see the girls, but with no more alimony to pay, and with the possibility of keeping my office job intact whilst taking a few months off, well, it is hard to stay.

I moved to the suburbs for the girls, only to have them move away. Thought I had cleared that up, but I was wrong. Life here is full of angst and alcohol. Life in Moab is calm, quiet, serene. I can actually fill my stress leave as I drive into town there, and then feel it return in Salt Lake county.

I plan to tend bar, work as a river guide, fly hot air balloons... really just do whatever I can to make a few bucks here and there. I plan to live in a tent down the river, with a bike and a bar of soap.

IF I happen to die while living in Moab by a rattlesnake bite, water moccasin bite, tiny scorpion bite while I hike too far and dehydrated from camp... well, so be it. Have my body cremated and put in a brown paper bag. Remember three things:

1. I did NOT do it on purpose.
2. EVERYTHING goes to my daughters. I left Jenny as the beneficiary on everything, but the life insurance policies and everything I own goes to Emma and Abbi. I want college and weddings paid for. I want my ashes scattered over the rim in Moab. Let the wind carry me down to the Colorado and then eventually to the sea. No Mormon bullshit at the service. Let Spencer tell the story about how we found "FUCK" in the stars and then everyone enjoy their time outside in my honor. I want the house she buys purchased in THEIR name. She can live there with her guy if she wants, but if I find out my life insurance went to whiskey, Wendover, and sex toys... well, I will haunt them! ;)
3. I love those little girls more than anything in this world. They are everything to me. They make life make sense. Whatever you tell them about me... never let them doubt my love for them.

Sort of a weird title for a Last Will and Testament but I don't have plans on letting my life end at 29. I plan on owning Moab. I plan on getting everything out of almost 30 years of life that I have wanted within 3 months. I plan to spend every minute in the NOW and just moving from one experience to the next. I plan on returning better than I left. And, well, right now I don't have the bar set too high. It should be easy.

I will do my best to go to town and check my phone once every couple of days. Call in a search party if you haven't heard from me by September. Vaya con dios, bitches!

Moab

What You See Is What You Get

I planned on waiting until I got home to write this, but as I drove away from Moab, my own personal Mecca, I felt like something was still missing. I had told a friend that I planned to "rinse off" all of the ugliness from the last little while by taking a swim in the Colorado.

Between all of the Jeeping and barefoot strolls on the sandstone, I had plenty of time to think and clear my head, but didn't have a chance for a dip in the river.

So, I pulled off in Green River just a few minutes ago and drove into Green River State Park right at dusk. The nice guy at the booth didn't even make me pay. I drove down to the boat ramp and parked with my headlights on the dock, quickly stripped to my swimsuit (underwear for the day) and sprinted toward the edge. Sploosh! It is already down below 50 degrees with a pretty chilly breeze. The water wasn't anywhere near warm either. I stayed in long enough to brush the sand and grit from my skin. Drifted downstream about 30 yards, scared some geese, and paddled for the bank.

I found the shore when the fingers of my broken hand sunk into the mud. Damn. The cold and pain were both such an explosion but my eyes and grin were both wide when I came out of the water. I certainly won't call it a "baptism" or anything like that, but it was a great way to end this trip and I do feel so alive.

So, here I am in the parking lot of the Green River Senior Center writing this on my phone instead of waiting to do it at home.

What did I learn?

Wow. Where to begin...

I think first of all it was important for me to realize that throughout my life I have always tried to find a way to define myself. I was a Mormon, a drummer, an adrenaline junkie, a husband, and most recently... a Bionic Gigolo. (Long story and not one we need to get into right now.)

Well, being Jenny's husband was obviously the biggest defining factor of my life. It led to me also being able to define myself as a father.

There is folly in all of this. I get that now. I can only be me. I can only be Dan. As Dan I can choose the activities of my life, but I can't keep allowing this concept of "self" to be such a fluid one.

I also realize that I like the Dan I am quite a bit. I'm a little worse for wear these days but there are still a lot of good miles left in these tires. I've got a good heart that overwhelms me with emotion sometimes, but I think it also makes me a pretty good dad and friend to those I care about.

I do have a LOT to work on though. I need to be okay being alone in my own skin, and this weekend has made that a reality. I relished in the moments I could drift away from the group and bask on the sandstone like a lazy lizard.

I know I need to stop trying to "escape" any of this. There are better and healthier (albeit more difficult) ways to process things.

So, no more hard alcohol until my 29th birthday. I love a good tequila or whiskey, but recently they have caused a lot more problems than fun.

The broken hand... lesson learned. I don't want to be that guy. I hate feeling that much rage. I can't remember what 90's movie it was where the guy gets shot in the leg and his commanding officer says "Want me to give you something to take your mind off that leg?" Then he breaks the guy's finger. Anyway, there may have been some of that going on.

There were plenty of times it felt like the knife in my chest was being twisted deliberately, but I'm done thinking about all of that. I'm done trying to understand why things went the way they did or torturing myself with all of the "what if?" questions. I am done wishing for second chances. Time to just move on. Get all of the papers finished ASAP and get Jenny's name taken off my back. Haha. It makes me chuckle to realize I literally have to get her off my back. But, I am also glad to now be at a point where I'm not doing it in a moment of hurt or anger. It is just time.

Surprisingly, I also found out on this trip that there is some correlation between my relationship with Jenny and my relationship with "God" or whatever else might be out there.

1. I don't understand either of them
2. I don't want to have any hard feelings toward either of them
3. I don't want to have to rely on either of them or allow them to control my mind and emotions
4. I want to feel more gratitude toward them than anything else
5. I really REALLY don't understand either of them... but I'm okay with that. I don't need to. The existence of God and the way Jenny's mind works can both remain a mystery to me. I'm cool with that now.

I don't plan on setting foot back in a church or praying for help to find my keys. But, this trip has put me back in touch with something. Standing on top of a 1,000 foot cliff and watching the shadows of clouds as they pass the valley floor below. Running red sand through my fingers. Watching a bird hover in the wind. Noticing how fast I am already healing and how geniunely awesome it is that my body can create new skin out of cheeseburgers and thin air. All of those things make me HOPE that there is something bigger than me out there. Those things and so many others make me grateful for what I have.

During 2011 I have felt more intense pain than I ever thought possible, but I also have to keep things in perspective. So many people have dealt with so much worse. Just because it hurts more than I've ever known doesn't mean I'm not being a crybaby. It could be worse. I don't need to analyze why the only relationship I've ever had that lasted more than 3 weeks was a 7-year marriage. There is a LOT of things I'm done trying to analyze.

They joy my daughters have given me is infinitely greater than the pain their mother has caused. I should be grateful for that. I should be glad that I still have a job, no criminal record, no DUI charges, no STDs, etc.

Most of all I should be grateful that I still have such a wonderful relationship with my daughters and grateful that their mother encourages that. I should be happy to be alive. I don't want anything else taken away before I realize how much they mean to me.

I want calm and serenity. I don't want fights. I don't want the angst and confusion of unanswerable questions. I just want to work on being me. I have nothing to hide. I'm laying all of the bad out there with the good. No secrets. No skeletons. Really, what you see is what you get. If that makes me impossible to stay married to, so be it.

And, like Dave Matthews says, "If God don't like me he can send me to hell."

I need to make improvements and patch up some pretty big holes, but I can't try to define myself as anything other than Dan or feel like I have to keep apologizing to people for who I am.

Here I am. I'm grateful for all that I have. I'm far from perfect. Take it or leave it.

Oh yeah, and thank you for Moab... whoever/whatever you are.

Dan.

The Season of Fresh Starts

Last day of tax season and the fourth day of fresh air. 2011 has been full of surprises. The last week has been full of new beginnings. Plain and simple - I just feel good. Sometimes I miss my little girls more than I can stand but I am grateful for the support system they have and know that when all is said and done, both of their parents want the same thing - for them to be safe and happy.

I'm sure I have a long list of apologies to make after the last few months. Someday I'll have the energy and backbone to get to each of them individually, but for now let's just say that I hold no grudges and just want to let bygones be bygones. It's Spring. It's a new day. All we can do with the past is accept that it will remain firmly cemented behind us... as long as we keep facing forward, that is. Sometimes good people make uncharictaristically bad choices, I know that better than anyone. Fourtunately that doesn't make them bad people. I'm so grateful to have old friends back and to have made some new ones.

I want to be happy. I want the mother of my daughters to be happy. We both want the best for them. Despite anything else that happens/happened, that still puts us on the same "team" doesn't it? I mean, it has to.

I think [hope] the ride is over

Hurt, anger, confusion, fear... all of these powerful forces that can combine into a Molotov Cocktail of emotions. When that burning rag reaches the neck of the bottle, the explosion can drive people to do and say things they normally wouldn't dream of.

When you're riding an avalanche you know better than anyone that you're pointed downhill. All you can do is just fight for every inch in the hope that you'll still be able to dig yourself out once it's all over. Fingers crossed that it really is safe to start digging.

So, yeah, now what?

I have felt that writing tickle so many times during the last month but I haven't known where to go with it since my last post. So much has happened. So much I really DON'T want to talk about. I don't want to rehash old relationships or discuss new ones. I don't want to expunge my moments of pain onto paper.

I am really trying hard to remember the truce. I am trying hard to remember the rule about keeping your mouth shut unless you have something nice to say. My jaw aches from the effort it takes to keep my mouth shut.

Oh well. It is all just one side of the story. I have to just do my own thing and try to make the good days outnumber the bad ones. I have also made it a goal to only surround myself with people who genuinely care about my well-being. In the past few weeks I have looked for the easiest distraction. That attitude "worked" for a while but it isn't going to leave me in any better shape than before I started. I need to keep good people in my corner. The fact that they are also fun people is just a cool bonus!

Spending time with my daughters always puts everything back into perspective and instantly lines up all of the skipping gears in my life. It is like the moment I lay eyes on them... everything is okay. Everything is pure and good and the world is a kinder place.

I won't get into what happens when I have to take them "home" and their positive influence is removed. But if you can imagine how seeing them immediately brings things together for me, you can probably also imagine the awful racket and clattering those pieces make as they fall back to the floor when I have to watch them walk/drive away. Some days I can handle that better than others, but the drive away from them is always a cold and dark process. Seeing how much they change from one week to the next is also excruciating. Realizing how much I am missing out on - brutal.

But gratitude will always reign supreme as long as I keep my head above water. I get to have those beautiful little girls in my life. I still get to spend time with them. They still love me and miss me when I'm not around. Things could really be so much worse, and I have to remind myself that.

I am trying to focus on the things that get me out of my head - in a good way. Longboarding - playing guitar - listening to music - working on a book - talking with stable and intelligent friends. Unfortunately, there are also other means of escape that don't take nearly as much effort, but those lead to guilt, hangovers and the occasional broken hand.

Usually when I sit down to write I have a general idea of where I am headed. Even though that isn't the case today, I do want to be able to still use my blog.

"If you don't have anything nice to write, don't write anything at all."

That chasm is both wide and deep and the ledge surrounding it keeps getting more narrow and crumbly, but I think it is still walkable. I am trying. I did call a truce.

Remember the truce.

"It's a long story, full of sighs."

I made the mistake earlier of trying to call this the "full" story. I realize now that what I was calling "full" was really just me deciding that page 5 was a good stopping point. Of course it can't include every detail but from my point of view it is as complete as an account of a crumbling marriage could be in the given space.

People continuously ask me why Jenny and I are getting a divorce. What I have written below is how I saw things play out, but I know it certainly isn't the "full" story and doesn't include every sordid detail.

Despite contrary opinions, it is honest. Brute honesty is all I have had energy for lately. The brain/mouth filter that was functioning poorly while I was married has now been completely removed. I'm straight-piping it now. Loud and obnoxious, but I think that is the only way to roll when you've got nothing left to lose.

This is how I saw things play out and the key moments in the mutual decision as I saw them. Jenny might give you a different answer if you asked her the same question. I'm sure she would at least be kind enough to give you a shorter answer! ;)

I still love Jenny dearly. She is still the best thing that has ever happened to me. We are still best friends. We want to work together for as long as we live to raise our beautiful daughters as a team and always be there for them and each other in any way that we can.

But, the question remains; Does all of the above mean that we should do those things as husband and wife?

Since April 24, 2004, I have moved Jenny all over the place. We lived in Florida, Indiana, Texas, and all over Utah. She even spent the better part of a month living in a cow pasture in Wyoming so that I could try writing for a newspaper. We have gone from one side of the religious spectrum to the other. We have fluctuated wildly in so many aspects of our lives – financially, emotionally, physically, sexually, spiritually… the list goes on and on.

Jenny is like a glassy lake at dawn. She is a natural nester and the embodiment of patience. She is a giver and always aims to please. She is very hard not to love. She is amazing.

I am chaos personified. I am a nomad, an adventurer, a cultivator of crazy ideas and unrealistic schemes.

In our clashing, we somehow fit. People talk about how opposites attract, and that may have been the case. I may have provided Jenny with an excitement that she needed and she has worked her ass off every day of our relationship to keep my feet on the ground.

I relied on her for everything. I made her take the responsibility of being my voice of reason. I let my daydreams carry me into the clouds without a second thought and always left her tugging the rope to bring me back to earth. The fact that I didn't realize I was doing all of that until now does not change the toll it took on her. In fact, it is barely more than a shitty consolation prize.

I was Phillip, the hyper-hypo. Jenny was my harness. Or better yet, my Jungle Gym, considering how often I dragged her around. Our marriage was the harness.

Do I think I am to “blame” for the demise of our marriage? Yes and no. I really did try. In fact, I always kept her at the very top of my priority list. I wrote her a book. I tattooed her name on my back. I never imagined life without her. We were always faithful to each other. We rarely fought. At times, we were the couple everyone else wanted to be. Our relationship made other people jealous. We were incredible together.

A while ago I was driving to work, still half asleep. It was about 6:50 in the morning and I was running late… again. For some reason, I felt very compelled to take the Beck Street exit. I almost always take 600 North into downtown. I don’t know why I felt that need. I don’t know who or what was responsible for it. God, intuition, the universe, the devil… the damned flying spaghetti monster, who knows? Who cares? Does it really even matter at this point?

I don’t think so.

I also almost always remember to wear my seatbelt, at least on the freeway. That morning I didn’t. I was speeding, doing over 50 mph on Beck Street and reaching into the back seat to pull a lemonade Rockstar out of the box I had back there.

When I turned to look back at the road, I was face to face with a Tesoro semi that was barreling diagonally across all 4 lanes into oncoming traffic. He was so far over that I my only option was to swerve left. We were mere inches apart. I was amazed that I even kept my mirror.

I popped out behind the trailer to find myself in the far oncoming lane and face to face with another car. That time I went right, but there was another in that lane so I had to come back left. I bounced over the curb and ended up on the lawn by the old museum there. The whole thing was over in a matter of seconds. There were no accidents. When I was able to peel my fingers from the wheel and look around, the semi and two other cars were gone.

I got ahold of myself and backed the Civic onto the road and went to work.

I knew that if I had hit the semi head-on I would have died. There really is no question about it. Even if I had been wearing a seatbelt, my survival chances would have been slim.

A few days later I started reading a little more about near death experiences and the emotional and psychological impact they can have. I understood the accounts from other people about feeling an intense mental clarity and love. I felt like every minute I had was a bonus minute. I felt a stronger, deeper love for Jenny than I think I ever have.

In that state of heightened mental clarity, I could also see how much chaos I had created for Jenny and the girls. I realized that I was always the one rocking the boat. I wondered if she could go back and talk to her 19-year-old self, would she encourage her to marry me?

The answer to that might still be yes. Despite the complications I created for Jenny, I do feel like I was good for her in many ways. I helped her realize how much she has to offer. I helped her stand up for herself and not get walked all over. I think I opened up her world a little bit – maybe not always for the better but she does have those experiences now.

Also, Emma and Abbi are incredible kids. We should both be very happy and grateful for the time we had together because of the beautiful children it generated.

The old adage, “If you love something set it free” was in my mind that morning after my close call.

So, I sat down and poured it onto paper - in much of the same way I am now, I suppose. I told her that I didn’t want anything to change. I told her that I loved her more than anything. I told her that I wanted to stay together. But, I also told her that I didn’t want to do any of that at her expense. I offered to be there as her best friend and loving father to our children. I gave her an invitation… an opportunity to second-guess the decision she’d made almost 7 years earlier. I wanted her to think about it and what it would mean for the next 40 years of her life.

She did exactly that. She took some time and thought about it. She came back scared by what she realized. She also didn’t want anything to change but understood that what I was saying made a lot of sense.

Jenny is so selfless and giving that she rarely thinks about herself and the things that are getting to her unless someone points it out to her. Then she lets go of that stress and is amazed by how relieved she feels to have it gone. That is basically what happened in this case. I am too smart for my own good sometimes. I could see it playing out in my head and dreaded the consequences, but the love was so intense that morning that it almost felt like I couldn't spend another day without offering to let her go. The days of me regretting sending that email are not over, I'm damn sure of that. But when she looked me in the eyes a week or so later and admitted that she was relieved she wasn't going to be married to me anymore, I knew I should have seen it coming. I had given her a glimpse of "freedom" from the Dan tornado and I don't blame her in the slightest for wanting it.

Picture the Jungle Gym, being yanked again and again and again. Picture Mike Myers in his helmet, jumping and pulling and struggling - totally oblivious to what is going on behind him. He thinks it will be really fun to live in a trailer on 40 acres in a cow pasture. He thinks we should leave all of our electronics behind and live in the Montana cabin for an entire summer. He thinks it would be really cool to cash out the 401(k) and go live in Panama with the kids. He wants to cliff dive and bungee jump and fly in a wingsuit. He is a pasty, chunky and whiney glob all winter, and wannabe mountain man in the summer, brimming with more testosterone than a slab of hormonally treated beef. He pulls and he pulls and he pulls.

“Let’s just go for it! Let’s have an adventure! I don’t want to plan it. I don’t want to hear about schedules. Come with me! It will be fun!”

That harness pops and twangs as he pulls. It goes from slack to tight, snapping over, and over, and over…

And the Jungle Gym just stays there and takes it.

Now, what if instead of giving the hyper-hypo chocolate you instead cut the harness? You aren’t really sure where the he will run with his new freedom, but you do know where the Jungle Gym will be – cemented into the same spot. Finally having a chance to take a deep breath of fresh air – time to relax and listen to the laughter of playing children. Time to enjoy the afternoon breeze.

The truth is, the hyper-hypo will run and thrash for a little while. He will sprint back and forth past the Jungle Gym, glancing over at the cut harness and not really sure what to do about it. He will buy a new pocket knife because he thinks he might ride his motorcycle to Moab to clear his head. Then he will drive to Wyoming and get a job working on an oil rig - a job that he won't ever really start because the atrophied logic quadrant of his brain is kicking off the cobwebs and firing back into working order. With the Jungle Gym there to keep him tethered, he never needed to use that part of his brain. He let it run out of gas and forgot about it completely.

Eventually he will calm down and sit on a bench at the other side of the playground, close enough to still have the Jungle Gym in view. (In this case the bench is a rented room on Foothill drive.)

That is pretty much how it happened. That morning I realized what I had been doing all of this time. I wanted her to have the chance to experience that relief and decide whether or not she wanted to make it permanent. I wanted her to have calm and consistency. I wanted her to have the man and life I think she deserves, even if I am not able to deliver. I also didn’t want either of us to try to be any more or less than who we are. For all of these years I really felt like I was meeting her in the middle, though I realize now that she was pulling a lot more weight than I was. I stayed at the office job I despise because I always wanted to feel like I was taking care of her. All things considered, we were very good for each other.

This whole situation reminded me of a Buddhist teaching I once read. It is about a man who is on a long journey and reaches a wide river that he must cross. At the bank of the river he finds a boat. He climbs in and paddles the boat to the other side. During his time in the river, the boat is the most important thing to him. He needs it. It is crucial to his journey.

However, when he reaches the other side of the river, he must leave the boat behind. It makes no sense for him to haul it out of the water and drag it over land. That wouldn’t be sensible, it would just be exhausting. He may be very grateful to the boat for the important part it played in his journey, but to continue he must leave it behind.

I told Jenny about that story and theorized that our marriage has been a lot like that. I think I was her boat. Although, in our version we had a little more fun with it – instead of a man and a boat it is a hot chick and a Jet Ski!

The concept is still there. Neither of us wants Jenny to have to haul around that Jet Ski any longer.

I hope this puts any rumors or questions to rest. There was no big fight. There was no cheating. There was no big skeleton discovered in someone’s closet.

We held each other and sobbed and confessed our love for each other. We both want so badly for the other to be as happy as they can be. We want the other to be exactly who they are and feel no need to try to adapt or change unnaturally in an attempt to “fit” the marriage. We spent 24 hours in the car the next day, holding hands and laughing with the girls as we listened to Despicable Me for the 19th time. We went home and made love.

It hasn’t all been easy. There have been nights of bitter tears. We have coped with the transition very differently. Jenny, still a calm as a glassy lake has thrown herself into holding it together for the girls and trying to keep our family machine running the way she always has. She works out and organizes and gradually I am trying to help “un-Dan” the house.

I, on the other hand, had a brief and ugly destructive stint. It really is just another example of how opposite we are. Jenny cleans out a cabinet. I get drunk and sob behind a bar. I sign up for a cage fight. I have another beer and try to fight a Dodge.

Jenny has a clean and organized cabinet. I have a broken hand.

Are you starting to get the picture? I hope so.

She has been kind and generous and selfless throughout this process. She hasn't asked for anything and has even given back some of what I left her. She carefully packed bins of silverware, plates, cups, towels and other essentials I had forgotten. It is strange to start over. You go grocery shopping and go back to your place to fix a salad and then realize that you don't own a fork. She is still taking care of me.

I have had moments of selfish weakness. I have begged her to take me back, but those were only the times I was thinking more for myself than I was for her.

I will always love Jenny. As this transition moves on that love is also changing. Sure, I still think she is smoking hot but now that romantic love is being replaced by the growing love I have for the person she is. I love the mother she is to our girls. I am forever grateful to her and in her debt for the part she has played in my life. I want nothing more than for her to be happy.

For our friends and loved ones: please don’t walk on eggshells around us. We don’t! There are no sides to this. You don’t need to pick allegiances. There won’t be a divvying up of friends process down the road.

Jenny and I hung out all day yesterday. We drove and held hands and talked for hours. We caught up on what is going on in the other one’s life. She brought the girls out and saw my place. We got a coffee. It was just delightful! Seeing them always makes my day. Watching them drive away is still hard – on both of us, I think.

But we remain convicted that this is the right move for us. That may change. This is all still very new and we are both in uncharted waters right now.

We are moving on, though. And, most importantly, just like when we were married we both want our relationship to keep getting better.

I think we are doing a pretty good job of working toward that future – maybe not married, but still together.

The "Summertime" List

These 85- to 90-hour workweeks are getting brutal. Despite my 2,000 IU Vitamin D "Super High Potency" supplements, the winter blues are creeping in early.

I am going to do my best to stay positive. On the few days the skies aren't gray and smoggy, I'm going to make a real effort to see the beauty in the snowy mountains. I'm going to take my wife snowboarding and go sledding with the girls.

And, I am going to keep working. I'm going to work like a mad man. I am going to plow through the overtime hours during the time of year when I don't want to be outside to save money for the time of year I do. I am going to pour as much money into savings as I can and for every $10 I put into a house fund, I'm going to put $2 or $3 into a "fun" fund.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to daydream a little bit while I plan it out. The list of things I want to do during the warm months of 2011 is already being composed. I know I'm supposed to be focusing on living in the moment, but when I fail to do that I feel like focusing on something you are looking forward to might be second best.

When I saw this video and realized it was shot in Alpine, Utah - the first line on the list filled itself in pretty damn quick!

I did this once before at Gunlock Reservoir with Johnny and CJ back in 2001. We strapped a wooden ramp to the end of a dock. I got "like three feet of air" that time. That boat ramp approach didn't lend us nearly as much gravity as this dirt hill does.

So far, Moab and Lake Powell also fall appropriately high on the list.

Winter months may be long and cold, but when tax season overtime is unlimited, at least the dreary hours will pay well.

Born in 1982

I never thought I would be a motorcycle guy. Back in high school and my first year of college, I did own a 1987 YZ 125 dirt bike that I loved. I raised all sorts of 2-Stroke hell in Kaysville; jumping over the roads in a new subdivision and racing it through dirt lots back when open land still existed in Kaysville. The fields and marshes I road it through are now the backyards of $500,000 to $750,000 homes. The Russian Olive tree I slid the bike into was torn up years ago, but I still have the scar by which to remember it.

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I broke 6 ribs over the handlebars of that motorcycle down in the sand dunes by Delta, Utah. I kept up with brand new CR 250's at the larger red dunes of the Mojave near Baker, California. During that same trip my rear hydraulic shock exploded and the rear brake cable snapped off and ripped through a few of the spokes.

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I am an intelligent guy, so I decided to keep riding and trying to keep up with the bigger bikes, even during the jump contests. When your dirt bike still has a rear spring but no hydraulic absorber, it makes the jumps even more exciting. The back end of the bike compresses as you approach and then "SNAP!" it cracks back into place, throwing you into an involuntary front flip so you lean back as far as you can, trying to yank the front wheel level before you hit the ground. Some times you pull hard enough and manage to land. Most of the time your corrective measures are too little or too much, and the resulting wrecks are as spectacular as they are entertaining to your buddies.

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As dangerous and idiotic as all of that may sound, I always thought it was safer than riding a road bike. I don't trust other drivers. I know there is a reason for the "Start Seeing Motorcycle" bumper stickers. I once heard that your life expectancy drops to 6 days as soon as you buy a bullet bike.

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Don't worry, I didn't buy a bullet bike.

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But, after a few conversations with Jenny and the stunning revelation that she wants to go on motorcycle road trips when we get older, I suddenly fell in love with the idea of getting a road bike.

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I wanted to get something cheap and smaller to begin with. I even looked at a few 250cc bikes until my buddy Josh warned me that I would look like a circus bear on a motorcycle of that size.

I looked for a 650cc or 750cc, but instantly fell in love with a 1982 Honda 450cc Nighthawk (the fact that the bike was "manufactured" the same year as I was didn't hurt, call me nostalgic if you must.)

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The bike is big enough to take on the freeway once I feel comfortable and confident enough to do so, but it is only about 350 pounds, vs. the 1,000 pound bike Jenny and I will most likely purchase when we get older, maybe a 1,200cc or 1,600cc.

-

On Saturday we drove to Richfield to pick it up. Spencer was kind enough to donate his truck and his time to the task. It was a fun little road trip.

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Unlike most machines pushing 30 years (myself included) this bike has been meticulously maintained. It was purchased new and then passed from the original owner to his grandson. I am technically the third owner, but only because the first passed away long before the bike did. It only has 8,000 original miles on it (unlike the 30,000 or 35,000 you would expect from a bike this old) and has always been garaged.

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Last night, I took my first "long" ride--at least as long as it took for my fingers to go numb at 11 p.m. in December. It made me want to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance again. I think I will understand it much better this time around.

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Don't get me wrong, I'm not naive enough to think that 20 minute ride was enough to consider myself "experienced" by any means, but it did give me a glimpse of what compels so many people to reduce their highway cruising from four wheels to two. There is something incredibly freeing and therapeutic about it.

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Damn. Winter hasn't even started and I'm already counting down the days until Spring.

"You don't have a church?!!"

Today, with my digestion in overdrive, I try to write through my food coma discomfort. I feel none of the standard creative tingle, but I do have to jot down the funniest thing that happened yesterday.

We went to Thanksgiving dinner with my mom's side of the family, and it was actually a lot of fun. The girls enjoyed themselves and behaved beautifully.

My aunt, Jen, is about a year and a half older than I am. So, even though it seems like her kids should be cousins with my kids, they are actually my cousins.

We had Thanksgiving at her church, which was great and completely expected, but the real laugh came right after we started eating. Her middle daughter, Jaydee, who is three or four, explained to everyone that we were in "her church."

She then asks us, "where is your church?"

I laughed but then thought hard about what I could say without confusing this little girl. So, on perhaps an evasive whim, I said, "well, it is far away from here."

Then, Emma, (I love her honesty) said plain and simple, "We don't have a church."

Jen's oldest child, Kameron, dropped his fork and said in utter disbelief, "YOU DON'T HAVE A CHURCH?!!"

I was trying so hard to cover my face so they didn't see me laughing, but then couldn't contain it when Abbi (apparently thinking that Kameron hadn't quite heard Emma) clarified by yelling, "WE DON'T HAVE A CHURCH!!!!"

It was amazing. I couldn't help but just bust out laughing. I don't know if anyone else thought it was funny, but I'm pretty sure there were a few chuckles. I can't even describe how much I love those little girls.

We had a conversation on the way home about how important church is for many people in our family and that we always want to be respectful of that. We told them that it is something very special and that if--when they're older--they decide they would like to go to church, we will support them. But, we also told them that we don't want them to ever feel bad that we don't go to church as a family, even if other kids don't understand that and think it is strange.

All in all, it was really a great way to finally find some humor in an otherwise awkward conversation. You can always count on children to disregard the unspoken rule that some topics are off limits and get to the heart of the matter. They always seem to get straight to the point and I think there is plenty for us to learn by their example, especially for me.

Marry me, Juliette

I could think of plenty of worse role models for my daughters. They are HUGE fans of Taylor Swift. In fact, they put on concerts for us all the time. They crank up the CD player in their room and dance around in their "princess" dresses. They bring in the instruments from the Wii Rockband game and "play" along.

Oh, and don't let me forget the singing. I would have expected to hear little girls singing along with their favorite band by the time they reach age 10, maybe 8, but I doubt there are many things cuter than seeing a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old with play microphones, just belting it. (Watch your back, sneezing baby panda.)

Taylor Swift is playing in our house and car SO much, that I have experienced a recurring song-in-my-head-isode every morning for weeks. Through my grainy, sleep-deprived eyes I wander through the house getting ready for work, brushing my teeth, and always thinking or humming, "Marry me, Juliette..."

And, compared to the Barney years, this is just delightful.

My Amazing Aunt Laura (1954 - 2010)

I almost feel ashamed to be associating my incredible aunt Laura with the other drivel that has spilled onto these pages, but I needed a venue to share my thoughts about her funeral yesterday.

My sweet wife has been a friend of the Savage family since preschool. Their home was a refuge from the normally judgmental Utah suburbs. When we heard of Laura's accident, I was upset. Jenny was distraught. When we heard of her passing, I was heartbroken, but Jenny was absolutely floored.

Here I was learning of the death of my own aunt, and needing to console my wife who had no blood relation to her but who had still been so impacted by the life of this wonderful woman that she couldn't even keep her footing. I guess that already tells you a lot about Laura.


My initial feeling is one of deep regret -- that I didn't know more about my own aunt. I wish I had spent more time in her home. I wish when I was a child that I hadn't been such a complete jerk to her daughters. Despite my childish, mean words and lack of respect, she still loved me.

I never knew what an incredible writer she was. I held it all together until her daughter Heather read a poem that Laura kept in their home. And then I really lost in when I listened to one of her own poems written at the age of 11, read in my grandfather's choked voice. I have never seen that man cry, and it was overwhelming.


I don't remember the exact verse Heather read, but from what I can find online it was something like this:


"Cleaning and scrubbing will wait 'till tomorrow, but children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow. So quite down cobwebs! Dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep."

When I heard that "Babies don't keep" line I just broke. Laura's legacy made me want to race home and hold my own daughters and beg them to forgive me for every single time I have been too hard on them. She reminded me of one of the last movies I watched with the girls, and the harsh realization that I have become more like a Mr. Wilson, the old curmudgeon and less like a Dennis the Menace.


Laura, with her love for life and her endless drive to do everything she could for her daughters and grandchildren, seems to have striven for the latter throughout her years, despite her struggles. Luckily, at her graveside I realized that I was not alone. Her life was reminding many of us (if not all of us) to be kinder to our children. To hold them close and love them completely. To do everything we could to boost their confidence and live as an example of love and acceptance. To ask ourselves the tough question "what will this really cost me?" in every situation where we might feel "inconvenienced" by our offspring.


She showed us what a truly successful life looks like.


Another thing that amazed me is the people she brought together. All of the petty garbage was set aside so that people could join to celebrate her life. Without hesitation Jenny and I joined in hymns, prayers, and set foot back in an LDS chapel after years of avoidance. We didn't give it a second thought. It also made me realize that there is a direct correlation between your last visit to a Mormon church and your last taste of potatoes topped with Corn Flakes, which are beyond delicious. ;)


Laura's funeral also brought together three women in my life I would never have expected to see in the same room. My mother, my ex-step mother, and my current step mother. They didn't sit together and hold hands or anything, but I can tell you that it was a genuine MIRACLE that they were all able to forget about their relationship quarrels during Laura's service.


I wish I had known more about my aunt. I wish I had spent more time with her and known what an incredible writer she was.


From a religious standpoint, I was so grateful for the peace that the gospel has provided to her family and loved ones. Part of me envied their certainty and I genuinely, deeply hope that they are right.


Yesterday I felt something I haven't felt in a while. I don't mind at all associating that feeling with what I used to call "The Spirit" and I certainly don't discredit that.


Even though I can't bring myself to associate those feelings with a particular religious affiliation, I can say without a doubt that they do make me want to be a better man. Laura's life makes me want to do more with my own. She makes me want to be a better husband and a better father. She makes me want to seek out more areas of improvement in my own life and give more to those around me. She makes me want to focus even harder on that which truly matters, and aggressively cast aside all of the other time-wasters that do not.


And for all of those things, I will always be grateful for her and indebted to her life and example.

The Suit Dilemma

I am going to tell you ahead of time that this post is not meant for you. Please feel free to read along if you would like, but I will warn you beforehand that what follows is yet another futile attempt by Dan's colliding brain hemispheres to debate an internal argument.

Today's Debate: Suiting Up - Bunker Gear vs. Pinstripes


Why don't we just agree right off the bat that Dan Workman is one finicky bastard? Seeming to be tossed to and fro by every gusting wind of choice while simultaneously suffering his mini-midlife, this self-centered boy watches gray hairs emerge and realizes the time to become a man is at hand. Will he choose the best path for his family? Will he grow up and finally set aside his cargo shorts and skate shoes? We'll find out... on next week's episode!!!


Just what the hell am I supposed to do with my life?!


For some reason the "Get busy living..." line from Shawshank Redemption has been in my mind lately. Anyone who reads this blog (though I can't for the life of me imagine why) already knows of my fascination with the passing of finite minutes.


As of today, November 5, 2010 I have spent exactly 28.35 years on this earth and internally that seems to be the exact deadline to stop "floating" through my career.


Smarter men make this decision much earlier in life. Braver men never feel the need to make this decision at all. I, on the other hand, am flogged every waking minute with the urgent need to stop wasting my potential, whatever that may be.

And here I am, 28 years and change into my life in probably the best overall shape I've ever been in with a job that I'm not passionate about but at the same time in a very advantageous position. I also happen to have a great boss who truly wants me to succeed at whatever I decide to do. This is where the battle begins...


In the red corner we have the "natural man" (no religious connotation intended). This version of Dan is so dominant over the being that he must be restrained in order for any progress to be made. He is the one who will pull over on the side of the freeway, delighted by the discovery of a free hat or t-shirt. He loathes spending more than $6 on an entire outfit and--were it an actual possibility--would spend his days running through the forest barefoot in only tattered shorts with a knife in one hand and a spear in the other. He believes firmly in a life without technology, wants to spend time every day chopping wood and dipping beeswax candles and would NEVER be caught dead writing on a blog. This version of Dan wants to embrace everything animalistic within him. He wants to wield an axe and kick down doors. He wants to gorge on undercooked or even raw meat and spend the rest of his days with grime packed underneath his fingernails. He is a nomad. He is brimming with testosterone and craves adrenaline. He is always uncouth. He drives without a seatbelt and raises his middle finger to anything established or organized. He is a man of action, rushing headfirst into every new adventure and wanting to experience everything that life has to offer. Because of all of this, he probably won't live to see 40. He also desperately wants to be a firefighter.


In the blue corner, we have the "rational" version of Dan. This loving father and husband wants nothing more than to provide for his girls. He wants to give them every comfort they desire and then some. He needs work, and help, but has the potential to be the post-bath version of the Encino Man. He cleans up pretty well when he wants to and actually looks alright in a suit. He has a pretty good head on his shoulders and has the potential to excel at a career that requires creativity and people skills. In a blurry haze, a distant future, he can see himself playing golf with clients and picking up his clothes from the dry cleaner. He keeps a schedule and never lets himself forget that he is an adult. He only wears his cargo shorts on the weekend and even then, he ALWAYS remembers to wear socks with his skate shoes to minimize the smell. He shaves and flosses with regularity, not just while driving and running late. He doesn't worry about money, because he makes more than he ever dreamed possible. He still lives in a humble home. His wife drives a 2009 Subaru Forester and he drives a 2005 Tacoma. In the garage next to it sits a $3,000 to $4,000 motorcycle which he always rides whilst helmeted, because safety is more important that thrill. Maybe he still cliff dives or bungee jumps or sky dives once a year to keep from becoming a complete and total pussy, but he works hard to make that adrenaline rush last at least 8-12 months. He sips at it and savors it, rather than looking for every chance to bathe in it. When his kids watch the latest Pixar movie, they get it on Blueray in 1080p and on at least 50 inches. And, most importantly, even though they don't expect it of him, he has the means to take his kids to Disneyland and his wife on an anniversary cruise, just because he feels like it. He thinks about things like retirement and college funds. He wants to give his children a better future than his parents and his wife's parents left to them. Maybe he works for a volunteer fire department once or twice a week. And, only very rarely, when nobody is looking, does he eat steak with his fingers.


The decision looms, demanding attention before January. On one hand we have a ticking clock, reminding me that I will never be able to become a firefighter after age 32 in some departments, age 35 in others. I have a slot waiting for me at the DATC fire academy and applications floating around all over the country. I have the opportunity to do something that excites me personally, but somewhat at the expense of my family. Will daddy come home after work this week? Will I be left raising these kids on my own? Will we have enough money to make ends meet? Is choosing a job for myself and my passion an act of selfishness?


At the same time, dozens (if not hundreds) of men with more credentials and qualifications fight in this job market to get a position just like the one I already hold. Without meaning to I have been working toward a promotion since 2006. I have developed skills and qualifications that may very well have opened up the entire country and the potential of a six-figure income. I have a manager who is backing me 110%, a very limited number of other people standing in front of a very limited number of doors, and only my own dragging feet to hold me back. I am working for a company that will explode with opportunities for advancement during the next 5 years. I don't care about money but after years of working in finance I do understand what it can mean for my wife and daughters. With that in mind, I feel a little like Scrooge McDuck, poised on diving board of gold with a welcoming pile of cash below.


Do I take the plunge or do I throw it away? I don't care about wealth and I know that regardless of my income I will do everything in my power to instill a sense of humility and work ethic in my daughters, but does that mean I should stay poor on principle?


Is there really a line between selling yourself short and selling out?


The brutal truth is this:

On the firefighting front, I am already coming in late to the game. Aside from possible physical changes (for better or worse) I won't be bringing anything new to the table at age 31 than I am now. Now or 3 years from now I am going to be testing against 18-year-olds, which doesn't concern me from a physical standpoint but will always be the case in this career.


During that three year period, at lot could happen with my current job. I could probably get those promotions and there would be new offices opening up all over the country. "You look at a map and tell me where you want to work," my boss says to me. "We'll make it happen." That is, of course, no guarantee. But at the same time, in this industry assurances like that are few and far between.

So, the rational thing here is to give the white collar work a little more time. It makes sense. It is reasonable. But even with that understanding I can't seem to make myself give up my slot at the DATC, even though I know that money might go to waste. I also can't imagine turning down an offer if I make it through the testing process for the Wichita Falls Fire Department in Texas that I will be starting next week.


I don't expect any of you to read this, let alone help me make my decision. But maybe 15 years down the road I will be able to look back at this with either gratitude or regret in my mind. Maybe I'll be working in a nice office and feeling my heart ache every time I see a firefighter in the jump seat driving past my window. Or, maybe I'll be struggling to pay the bills, working a second job on my days off and wincing as I haul some fatass out of a window after my third shoulder surgery and wishing I'd allowed the more mentally sound version of myself take the wheel back in 2010. Either way I am determined to hit the ground running once I choose which direction to take in this fork of life's road. I like to meet all of my bad decisions face first at a sprint.


Eenie... Meenie... Miney... Mo? But even that just leaves me with the new decision on whether or not to include the friggin Tiger's Toe verse...


“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.” -Marcel Proust

"Native American" Summer

A year ago, we expected to still be in Texas for another Halloween. Trick-or-Treating in Texas was a riot. It had a similar feel to when Jenny and I were kids. People still made haunted houses in their front yards. The neighborhood was packed with tiny Princesses and Transformers. They didn't seem to have succumbed as fully as Utah to the dreaded "Trunk-or-Treat" BS that seems to be packing our children with even more sugar without even making them walk around the block to get it.

And it was so warm...

I wandered around behind my own Tinkerbell and Snow White. They had no need to cover their costumes with winter coats and I was comfortable in shorts, Jenny in her tank top. It was a lot of fun.

The Sun-Lover in me will miss the Texas climate this year. It was a lot of fun to see people mowing lawns around their Christmas yard decorations. But I can't remember a fall in Utah that I have enjoyed as much as this one. The warm days and lack of freak October snow storms has helped me ease out of summer better than previous years. It seems like this year the leaves will actually have time to drop one by one, rather than being ripped down full branches at a time by the weight of early snowfall.

We've had a great time this fall going for relaxing walks, taking trips to the park, visiting a number of corn mazes and even playing in the woods for an afternoon, launching boats of bark and twigs into the stream.

As far as work goes; the overtime has been a little brutal. I don't know if I will be able to do back-to-back 80-hour weeks again anytime soon. But, the paychecks have opened the door for a lot of fun, a bit of catching up with year-end expenses such as new tires and car repairs, and maybe even a little savings to make plans for next summer.

Winter, we'll see you when you get here. No need to rush. Travel safe and take ALL the time you need.

"The" Gays

(I am adding to this because I feel like this post has become an important and civil conversation with one of the smartest women I know. Melissa, I hope you don't mind.)

This is one I seriously debated blogging about. My history with Mormonism makes my current relationship with the church and its members a tenuous one. I have been very reluctant to directly discuss my personal reasons for leaving the church, because (as I have mentioned in the past) I do not want anyone to feel like I think my reasons should be anyone else's reasons. I hope that make sense.

However, recent events make me feel the need to express my opinion - not based solely on a church matter but instead a civil rights matter. I no longer watch General Conference, but during the last few years I have read talks that have been forwarded to me by friends and family members. For the most part I have still enjoyed them as much as I did when I was a member of the church. They generally carry an uplifting message directed toward the family or goodwill to mankind - topics I can ALWAYS get behind as long as nobody is trying to exclusively claim them.

But, Elder Packer's comments about homosexuality really upset me. While I was still part of the church, I had the opportunity to become friends with several guys my age who were struggling with their conflicting identities of gay and Mormon. One of them even told me about his suicide attempt after being kicked out of the house when he "came out" to his Mormon parents.

He had grown to HATE the part of him that was gay and I could tell from his story that he wanted nothing else but to "overcome" his "tendencies." He had even considered self mutilation and chemical castration.

It was something that I couldn't relate to but at the same time seemed to understand perfectly. I knew what it was like to be ashamed of my own sexual inclinations. Even though my attraction was of the hetero- variety, I still felt like it was something I always had to battle against. I knew what it was like to hate my own urges because they have no place in an unmarried Mormon's life.

When I heard the introductory lines to this segment of Elder Packer's talk, my heart sank. There is already so much implication to the words "There are those who would tolerate..."

In my opinion, it just goes downhill from there. How horribly disheartening it must be for struggling Mormon youth to hear this from one of their highest earthly leaders. Imagine the guilt, shame and fear you would feel to be told by "on high" that this part of you, a part that feels so natural and ingrained, is inherently evil. You can understand why gays and the family and friends of gays (both Mormon and non-Mormon alike) have been so concerned by these comments.

While Elder Packer made it clear in his talk that the church will not change, I was reminded of comments by Brigham Young in the Journal of Discourses that had very similar implications for African Americans.

Also note that for the first time in nearly 40 years, changes have been made to the conference talk after it was delivered. (Side note; after some research I found that the "book" in reference was None Dare Call It Conspiracy by Gary Allen.)

While it has significant scientific backing, I will still consider it my "opinion" that some people are born gay. With that in mind, I wrote the following letter to the Utah Pride Center:

"To tell you a little about myself, I am straight, happily married, and
ex-mormon for about two years now. I have tried several times to get
my family out of Utah into an area that is more accepting and open
minded, but family ties and close friends keep bringing us back.

When I was mormon, I was devout and even a solid missionary. I worked
hard to serve the people of Mexico in my own way (mostly by helping
them dig ditches and harvest crops, rather than try to "change" them
religiously) but I suppose you could say that I was still a
"successful" missionary - as the church would call it.

I do not regret leaving the church. In fact, it was probably one of the best
decisions I have ever made. My wife and I are in a much better place
and I feel like my children will have the opportunity to grow up in an
environment of love, acceptance and open-mindedness.

My one regret is that I haven't made more of an effort to diversify my
group of friends. It's not that I feel like I should seek out or treat
differently those of different races or sexual orientations, but when
I look around my group of friends I am struck by the same frustrating
realization as when I look at the majority of Utah: we are almost all
white and straight. In some ways I think it would be wrong to seek out
friends based on their darker skin tone or gayness, like some twisted
sort of diversity hire. At the same time, though, I feel like those of
us who love and accept you should be going out of our way to include
you when so many in this state are working hard to exclude you.

I just want you in the LGBT community to know that there is a quiet
portion of the community like us who genuinely love and support you
for who you are, and even though we may have been raised with a
backwards mentality, we know now that you have been wronged in the
deepest sense of the word. We want desperately to know you and become
friends with you, but just like seeking out black friends would almost
be a form of racism, we know there is something a little off about
trying to make gay friends. That may sound odd but in a way we feel
like the greatest form of service we can provide you with is by not
treating you differently, but by instead being kind to everyone -
regardless of race, creed or sexual orientation. Perhaps I am just
rambling and still backwards (if so please tell me and help me move
forward) but I want you to know that we are here and we support you.

For those of you who are still Mormon; I want you to know there is
still hope. Please don't let recent comments bring you down. After
all, Brigham Young said similar things about African Americans 151
years ago. So, don't be disheartened by Packer's comments. With that in
mind I offer to you my new bumper sticker idea:

"Gay: The new Black of the Mormon church."

Just remember, it is only a matter of time! ;-)"

(Melissa's comment still hasn't shown up, so I am including it in the post itself, because I think it is a wonderful perspective of the other side of this conversation.)

Please, please, please tell me you've actually watched or read the
actual talk, in it's entirety.

It concerns me, the divisiveness created by those (not you, not your
honest and concerned post) who haven't actually listened to the man.

He did NOT say that gays are NOT born that way.

He did NOT say that a person can just "change" their sexual preference,
or even elude to it.

He did NOT suggest that the "tendencies" and "temptations" themselves
are sins. It is the acts that are sins. The LDS website has / had
posted there it's official stance on the matter and stated this very
clearly. Tendencies are not the problem, not the sin, nor will they
keep you from serving within the church, nor will they keep you from
the blessings of heaven. We all must face and overcome the natural man.

When Packer said in his talk that such tendencies can be "overcome" he
did not exclusively elude to homosexuality, but included and stated,
ALL immoral, impure acts and human tendencies(according to LDS
doctrine). Which includes the example you gave of being a heterosexual,
but expected to be celibate until you are married -- and celibacy even
if you never marry (is that our nature, to be celibate? Or even
monogomous? I married at 19 and that was hard enough).

Still, his message stated that the God's laws won't change (which you
disagree with, ok) but that we can all, ALL OF US, take comfort in
knowing that we can overcome those temptations that contradict
progression and the laws of the gospel. He said that we are all capable
of obeying the commandments, we can do it. That we are not given more
tempation than we can bear - that's the promise and message of the talk
(I think).

I have not brought up this topic with anyone else and I only bring it
up with you because;

You are so willing to be open and try really hard not to be combative
and I trust that you know I'm not trying to fight either, even if I
disagree with some things.

I'm not even trying to change your mind or "fix" your opinion, either.
Especially since you come from a place of compassion and concern. I
just thought maybe I would straighten up some of the accusations and
misquotes I keep hearing about (it's bugging me).

I guess I feel defensive, because I do have a testimony of the gospel
and I also believe that Jesus is the ultimate example. It makes me so
sad to think that your friend was kicked out when opening up to his
parents. That's so not what Jesus would do. It's contrary to the
teachings of the gospel as I have come to understand it in my searching
and studying.

I think that is one area that is improving in this LDS culture and I
pray and hope, hope, hope that it's members will really embrace
wholeheartedly the Savior's example. He never, ever condoned sin, but
He also never, EVER turns anyone away when they need Him. Ever. Always
it was and is Love.

I do have a few gay friends/relatives, some mormon, some not. I live in
an area that's pretty diverse for Utah (many, many languages spoken
just on my street, like 7 or so) - That doesn't mean anything other
than I agree with you, about the benefits of living in a diverse place.
Different cultures and lifestyles are not so scary when you serve and
love others, especially those different from you. I think some people
don't want to wrestle with it. But it's so worth it when we are talking
about God's children on earth.

That's all, I've rambled enough for a lifetime.


Love You. And I'm not just saying that so you won't hate me after this
LOOOOOOOOONG and preachy comment.

(I am adding the following, not because I want to have the last word but because I want this conversation to continue.)

Melissa,

Thank you so much for the comment. I got the email but then it didn't appear on here, so I hope you didn't delete it.

First of all, I did not find anything you said to be "preachy" in any way. I loved everything you wrote which is why I really hope it stays on the blog. I appreciate it and in some ways I think you did call me out, which is always necessary.

Yes, I did watch the whole talk because it is important for me to understand the context of quotes. I realize that there are plenty of things that I wrote here that could be taken as very "snarky" or jabbing comments. For those I apologize.

I really love your conviction and I know I've told you before how much I admire it. I do understand the church's stance on the family and in many ways agree with it. I do not blame the church as a whole for the actions of those very un-Christlike parents.

I understand that, in full context, Elder Packer's comments can be applied to all who are striving to overcome temptation. While he did not say that they are not born that way, he did say, "We teach a standard of moral conduct that will protect us from Satan’s many substitutes or counterfeits for marriage. We must understand that any persuasion to enter into any relationship that is not in harmony with the principles of the gospel must be wrong. From the Book of Mormon we learn that “wickedness never was happiness.”

Some suppose that they were preset and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn temptations toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Remember, God is our Heavenly Father."

To immediately follow a clear statement regarding relationships that are not harmonious with the gospel (married man and woman) and then clearly state that these individuals cannot "suppose that they were preset" is what is concerning me and so many others.

(Talk in full context here)

I suppose that is where we must disagree. I have met people (the aforementioned friend included) who wanted nothing more than to be "normal" and wish that they had never been subject to their "queer" (and by that I do mean odd - pun intended) feelings.

What stands out so strongly to me is the abuse and bullying that many of these individuals experience from a very young age. For many of them, despite their efforts to be what their parents or those around them want them to be, they can't escape something inside them.

I do believe there are those who perhaps have a "wide" range of sexual attractions and maybe "choose" to focus on their same-sex rather than opposite-sex attractions. But, I really do think that the majority can recognize their "tendency" (not "temptation") from a very young age.

Elder Packer asks "Why would Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" and I think that is a great question… from both sides of Theism.

Why would anyone who wants nothing more than to be ridded of their homosexual tendencies make the "choice" to be outcast and ridiculed by nearly everyone they love if they really had the option? If being gay was once and for all determined to be a chemical or mental dysfunction rather than a genetic marker (which hasn't happened as far as I know, despite some past hype about a "gay gene"), and scientists finally discovered a miracle pill that would “set the gays straight”, how many of them do you think would be lined up with credit cards in hand, ready to pay any price?

How many black Mormons would have done the same before 1978 if they were told that by making a certain church contribution they would finally have their “mark of Cain” removed as they had been promised if it meant they could partake in the acceptance and blessings of their gospel?

How many "reformed homosexuals" really exist? Wouldn't it be more likely that there are simply some who have done a better job of suppressing a part of themselves and commit to a life of lies and misery because of the overwhelming pressure of their church/family/society?

I have never had to suffer through something that I imagine to be that heart wrenching but to a certain degree I know what it is like to try to be two people. It is hell and I would never wish that on anyone.

Like I wrote before, I know it can only be considered my "opinion" (despite the studies that have been presented), that people are born gay.

Isn't it unfortunate that there are people living today who aren't victimizing anybody but still want desperately to be something other than what they are? Sure, there are those at this point who I've seen try to argue that a pedophile or rapist don't feel like they can change their sexual urges either. I don't feel like this even merits argument because there is a world of difference between two consenting and loving males or females who want to live a committed relationship and someone who takes a woman or child by force? Doesn't that boil down to an issue of power and control rather than sex?

But back to the talk... when so many young people are committing suicide, being bullied, or even being murdered because they cannot change or refuse to reject who they are, it must be devastating to be told by such a prominent church leader that they simply must overcome their temptation. Granted, Elder Packer's approach is 1,000 times better than the truly hateful christian extremists who spit and scream and hoist their "God Hates Fags" signs.

I think everyone is tested in their lives, if not by God than simply by life itself. My concern is for individuals who are already in such a deep personal agony because they feel that there is something "evil" or "wrong" with them, to be told that the reason they haven't been able to change is essentially their fault. I know Elder Packer never says that, but his talk does imply that if they simply work harder and pray more diligently, they will be fixed. And that is what I have the hardest time with.

It was probably unfair for me to make the comparison between the gay Mormons of today and the black Mormons of 1977 and earlier. There is no need for us to get into or debate whether or not certain church revelations have coincidentally followed political pressures.

In fact, it may have been a very insensitive joke and maybe I am still missing the whole point. Maybe I’m just venting my overall frustration toward anyone who tries to make the consenting-adult-behind-closed-doors activities of other people their business. Maybe I am just that much more entwined in Satan’s grasp. But, I can get behind Packer’s BOM quote that “wickedness never was happiness” because I’d imagine it goes both ways. I don't feel like true happiness can be wicked. And, the happiest I’ve ever been was the moment I decided that I am still worthwhile, even with all of my faults and imperfections. That was the moment that I decided that it was okay for me take charge of my own life and responsibility for my own progression. It may be very “wrong” of me to feel like I get to pick and choose the areas of my life I want to improve and the pace with which I want to improve them, but I feel like it is healthy. And, I feel like if a lot of confused youth and teenagers were given that kind of go-ahead we’d find a lot fewer of them hanging in their closets. We’d see far fewer marriages and families shattered 10 -15 years in because someone decides they have lived the lie as long as they could.

Who knows though – my blog my opinion, right? I look forward to responses, especially if they can be as constructive and educational as Melissa's. Thanks again, Melissa.

Those Crazy Workmans...

Warning: This will be a long post.

Jenny and I have been emailing each other today. We have been trying to figure out why our sense of complacency only seems to last six months at a time. What I am going to include below is an email exchange we've had today. I am doing this because I am sure our family and friends have wondered why in the hell the Workman family keeps moving around (Utah to Wyoming back to Utah then to Texas then back to Utah and now to... Mexico? Panama? Australia?)

Yes, we have seriously considered it.

The question is... why?

Today we seriously asked ourselves this question, and I don't think I've ever seen an email exchange that more clearly displays the thought process of two individuals who are really trying hard to work together for the best possible outcome. I don't mean to say that we are exceptionally bright individuals; in fact our previous attempts and failures would attest to the contrary.

But, the truth is we really want to make sure we do whatever we can to get ourselves and our children into a situation of our design. That means trying desperately to leave behind the priorities of those around us and society as a whole and really gutting our lives down to the core of what is really important... to us.

Based on our long conversation last night (which should be adequately re-capped through the following emails), Jenny writes the following:

Jenny:

I love you! Sorry for all the restlessness.

Me:

Don't worry about the restlessness. I think Spencer made a good point last night about how much friends are a part of your life. In reality, so much of our lives have revolved around our group of friends, and that would be something nearly impossible to replace. I want to give you a home and I think that is something I'm working toward. I think we can forget about the caretaker jobs and things like that because they would feel as temporary as this situation. What I think we really need to discuss is whether or not we should be working toward buying (or building) a house. Maybe we should start looking at building lots out in Farr West or something like that. Maybe we should start considering our options for creating an actual home. Or, maybe we should forget this cruise and instead set a goal in mind for the next 5 years. If we really set our minds to it, only ate out like once a month, lived on a VERY strict budget, worked off rent at Josh's house and I plowed through overtime as much as possible, we could probably save up enough to buy a house with cash, or at least put 50% to 60% down and get a very cheap 15 year mortgage.

Maybe that is the way to go. If we are able to budget on that type of situation in a farming community like that, maybe I could be working as a manager of a feed store or doing some other job that let me work near the girls. More than anything it would be giving you a small home that you know is yours and you don't have to ever leave. Ogden will keep growing as they improve the image and I could probably find something there in the future, especially if I finish my degree.

There are options but we probably have to stop fantasizing about Mexico and Tennessee, because I think we both know those are only temporary solutions. Then again, it is hard not to when we both feel like life may be very temporary. Stupid 2012, making us feel like it is foolish to keep money in savings.

Jenny:

Sorry- I am really happy where we are. I don't want to pressure you to buy a house. I don't even know where i want to live so buying a house until we know for sure what we want is not an option. I feel like you feel like I am expecting you to provide this little impossible fantasy for me, but I'm not. I will be fine here for a long time. It all just comes back to not wasting our time. I know our relationships with our friends are very important. It is just hard sometimes to think about that over the other frustrations with Utah. It is important to remember that though. It's just so frustrating to be stuck in this cycle and to have tried a few different times to get out of it and to just keep coming back to it. I know it's my fault that we keep coming back. I am sorry I feel crazy sometimes...

Me:

It is nobody's "fault" that we came back and I am not upset about any of the decisions we made. I feel like coming home from Texas was a no brainer, and I feel like we got what we needed out Wyoming. I think we both are looking for simplicity and there are a few things we know we agree on:

1. We do NOT want to live in the suburbs
2. We do not care about image or luxury
3. We do not want to uproot our children more than we need to, we want to feel settled
4. We both know that our current situation is good, but cannot be permanent, which probably makes us feel restless
5. We both feel some pressure to find out where we CAN feel settled, but that hasn't happened because (like always) there are too many options
6. We both want to stay near our friends - staying near family and babysitters happens to be a bonus, but not a requirement
7. Neither of us want to make decisions based on other people's opinions or priorities
8. We both want to maximize our time together as a family, which we are not doing at the moment - so we feel like a change needs to take place

In reality, these conversations have probably been coming up just because this last week was so shitty. That is the truth. We haven't had hardly any time together and that has been rough. On the other hand, it makes me wonder how well we will handle the next couple of years of school. If this week was so hard on us, can we buckle down and do this for 200 weeks to get me my degree? I don't know.

Jenny:

I really love that list. It is perfect. Thanks for understanding how my brain works better than i do! I think all of those things are true. One thing, how important is getting a degree to us? Is it something that we really want? Is is worth the time put in. It has the potential to get you a job that involves writing, but is it more for that or for following what we're "supposed" to do. It has the potential of making us more money in the future. It will be hard to wait for the future, but I know we can do it if we think it is a priority and is important for US. Maybe we just need to have clearer goals in mind to get through the "getting there" part. It is hard to not look at our other options of how or where we could be living. The different options are endless. The friend thing is what keeps us here. I feel like that is all, and that is why it's hard not to look elsewhere. I need to come to terms that that is enough to keep us rooted here. But, is that a selfish decision because of how living here will affect our kids, or is it better for them if we are near our friends. I know it's important to them that we're happy. That makes a difference in how they are raised and how we interact with them. I can't straighten my brain out right now. Too much swirling around all at once. Maybe this is how you always feel Haha!

Me:

Yes, that is pretty close to how I always feel. There are so many factors and for some reason they always bring me back full circle to where I started.

Here is what I am thinking about the school thing:

1. I really HATE being away from you girls. I mean, I despise it. But, I know that right now I can't be a provider and spend all day with you, and being the former seems more important at this phase of life. The truth is; the girls need you around a LOT more than they need me. To survive and be comfortable they need the money I can provide. To be safe and secure and smart and loved, they need you. I have come to terms with that. It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you all of the time, but it seems like if there was ever a time I should be gritting my teeth and getting through school, it should be now. Technically, it should have been BEFORE we had kids but that is no longer an option.

2. So, my choices are: do I continue the course we have gone during the last couple of years and hope for a different result (which is the definition of insanity), or do I hope that we do have a future that carries over more than the next few years and buckle down to work for something better.

3. This is where it becomes an all or nothing thing: I can either plan for the end of the world in the near future (which means cashing out savings and trying as hard as I can to put us in a situation where we can enjoy each other for every minute of every day) or I hope for more time (when the girls are 10 and 8 or somewhere along there) when I have used both my current job's income and the education it can help provide to try to give us time together at (what I see as) a crucial juncture of our daughters' lives - when they are old enough to hold onto the memories for a lifetime, but young enough to still want to spend time with us (me).

4. This is where school comes in; yes it will take away from a lot of my time. Yes it will keep from home. Yes it will result in tears of sweet girls who miss their dad. But, with FAFSA and tuition reimbursement, it actually has the potential to improve BOTH our current situation and future situation, which seems like a pertinent motivator. If I decide to go through school, work overtime and continue to push myself, my body and my sanity to the limits, I will be royally disappointed and pissed if some massive earthquake wipes out civilization (or at least the Wasatch front) in a few years. I do NOT want to die with money in savings!! But, then again, if I have simply been led to believe in some doomsday myth that has always existed throughout the last 100 years with just different names (second coming, cold war, bay of pigs, Obama administration) then getting through school while my children are still young enough to perhaps not remember is probably the most responsible thing because....

5. Who knows, by the time the next 5 years blow over, maybe we'll all be telecommuting to work. Maybe I will still be working for Fidelity, keeping my benefits and retirement plan, working from a home office doing emails or even chatting online with someone in Bangladesh who needs to restructure their IRA. I don't really know. Right now the real decision has to come down (in my opinion) to two fairly simple gambles:

A. Will the world last more than another 10-20 years?
B. Will going to school during the next 3 - 4 years actually make us money?

And the answer to both of those questions seems to be; "go for a semester and find out."

This is how my brain works. I'm sorry to have subjected you to it!

Jenny:

Sorry- I can't tell what you meant with that last line? Sorry to have subjected me to it? SO we are buckling down and getting through school. SO- lets do it then. No more craziness/restlessness. That is the plan- so lets get it done :) It will be hard, but it's definitely do-able. Love you!

Me:

I meant sorry to have subjected you to my crazy brain. I didn't mean any decision has been made, but I do feel like it would be foolish to NOT try at least a semester of school at the U when it is paid for and possibly profitable. Does that mean we will last long enough to finish my degree? I'm not sure, I guess we have to wait and find out.