Freedom

Today, I stood before a judge, and he signed my name change.

I’ve waited for this moment for months. Years. While I didn’t “hate” my old name, it just felt like a coat that was too tight around the shoulders. It was a great coat. It just wasn’t mine.

I didn’t think I would have the moment of relief like I did. I even told my girlfriend that I didn’t think I’d ever have that moment where I just broke down. But I did.

He signed. I walked out. I hugged my lawyer goodbye. I sat outside of the Daley Center on one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever felt, took a deep breath. And tears came.

I can’t put into words the freedom I was given. It was like I took my first breath of air after drowning in an ocean of struggle. It was over. I never had to put the coat on again. I never had to make it fit.

I don’t even have the words.

Edwin, George and Michelle. My legal team that represented me with no financial gain to themselves, made this easy and seamless. Without their help and expertise, I’d still be googling how to fill out paperwork. So thank you to them.

I guess I don’t have to chase Cole anymore.

One stone at a time

You can’t move mountains.

Not all at once anyways. Even if the mountain is piled on top of your chest making every day seem like a struggle just to keep breathing, you won’t be able to just move the mountain. It doesn’t matter what you bench. It doesn’t matter how big your muslces are or how enormous your will to breathe grows, the whole mountain won’t move.

The secret to moving mountains?

A man can’t move a mountain but he can damn sure move a rock. Rock after rock. Day after day. The mountain isn’t going anywhere, but everytime you pick up and move one tiny rock, the mountain is a tiny bit lighter. The weight on your chest is a little bit less, and you can breathe a little bit easier.

Never stop moving the rocks.

Some days I still struggle to get out of my bed.

Sometimes, the rocks I choose to pick up and move each day are just my feet. But nonetheless, I still move the rocks.

It’s tough to realize the limit of your body. The mind, it’s a limitless space. A galaxy of it’s own. No fences or closed spaces (if you allow it to be open that is).

Sometimes I still feel stuck.

Stuck in a body that I wonder if I’ll ever actually escape from. I was so close to being free, and someone was able to strip me of that ability. Now I am back to the bottom of the mountain. Back with it sitting on top of my chest.

If there’s one thing no one can ever say I have been my whole life it’s a quitter. I’ve given and given. I’ve gave when I’ve had extra to give, and I’ve gave when I didn’t know how I was going to eat my next meal. I’m not selfish. I’m not greedy. I really just want good things for people. Not even myself. Just mostly everyone else.

Another thing that helps you move mountains, people who care enough to throw some of the stones away for you. I’ve learned more in the last 6 months about what it is to have a friend than I have my whole life. I’ve learned about love. I’ve learned about teamwork.

My life is bursting at the seams with people who love me, a person who is in love with me, and people who enjoy my presence.

Some days, even knowing how lucky I am, I still avoid the mirrors in the building. I skip showering to avoid myself. All the stones I can move, but the ones I can’t weigh the most.

 

 

Chasing…

It was about this time last year the “Chasing Cole” became my slogan and motto for how I wanted to live my life.

Last year, I blindly walked into a new role in my own life: myself. To say it was scary and uncomfortable to say the least. I didn’t know how to be myself. I didn’t know who I was, or what I liked. I questioned everything.

I’ve spent a year, staring at myself in a mirror, wondering how much of what I saw was “me” and how much of it was a product of society and everything I thought I should be. Slowly, no matter how hard it was, I started peeling layer after layer of all those expectations. It hurt. I lost people. I lost friends and in many ways, I have lost family. I am still losing a lot every day as I continue on my journey.

Cole doesn’t focus on the things he is losing though. That might be the biggest difference in the last year. I stopped focusing on the negative. I stopped taking the negativity of the world into my personal space. I stopped complaining and I started leaving things where they belong. Work stays at work. I practice every night looking in the mirror and telling myself two things I am grateful for and two things that I like about myself. Does that sound crazy? Well, call me crazy, but in the last year, my total outlook on life has changed.

Lately, what I have been trying to teach myself is kindness. I have always considered myself a “good” person. I think I am pretty nice. But, I am slowly learning that there is a very important difference between being “nice” and being kind. Kindness is beautiful, but it is very much a habit. It takes a lot of work to be kind with an intention. I try to go out of my way to be kind. I try to tell someone every day that I appreciate them. We live in a world where kindness, while should be easier than ever (considering social media keeps us connected every minute of the day), is rare. True kindness takes work.

I am also working on showing how I feel rather than just saying it. I am good with words. While that gives me great power in the way I communicate, it can also take away from words in intimate or serious moments. People, in a fragile state, might not value them as much since I use them so often. So, I work on showing it every day. I tell people I appreciate them. If someone is good to me, I try to be good to them. I go out of my way to make the people I love feel special.

Tonight, I went to the gym for the first time after slacking for a couple weeks. I found myself staring into the mirror and I was overcome with emotion. I still am trying to figure out what emotions it was. I think it was a mix of pride, sadness, humbleness, anxiety and fear. Pride, because as bad as some of this transition as hurt me and as easy as it would have been for me to throw it away and go back to safety, I didn’t. I pushed through. Sadness, because I have lost so many people, not just to this transition, that will never be able to see me truly be the man I am. My grandmother, who I love more than life, will never know who I am. She passed before I had the courage to live. Some nights I wonder what she would say. I wonder if she would love me. But my grandmother was an angel, and I know her love was unconditional and pure. Humbleness, because I bowed to the process. I committed to a journey and I have learned all about winning and losing. Anxiety, because there’s so much left to go. And fear, for the future. Every time I go to the gym, I get to working out and I start struggling to breathe. It’s not recommended to work out in your binder, but to go anywhere without two of them on, I feel debilitated and helpless. Fear that I will now start fighting the legal and financial battles of transition. I will stand in front of a judge for a name change. I will fight with my insurance company to cover my surgeries that, for me, are necessary to my health and the quality of my life.

I am so humbled by the battle. So many people have privileges they don’t even recognize. Their skin color, financial situations, religious, gender and sexual privileges that they never asked for, they just happened. I don’t expect people in better situations to “feel bad”, obviously that’s not fair. But the first step in change is to recognize that some people don’t get to live as easily as you. This journey has made me into the man I always dreamt I would grow to be.

I have found so much true happiness in my life in the last year.

The moral of this blog: the fight is always worth it. Don’t give up on your own journey. Most importantly, fall in love with yourself. When you start to love yourself, you hold yourself to a certain standard of life. It leads you to the people you need in your life. And if you fight hard enough, you will catch a break. If you fight day in and day out for the truth in yourself, the world will find a way to give it back to you. Maybe it will be a great job opportunity or a great friend. Maybe it will be the most beautiful and pure person you’ve ever known. If you go through the sadness, you’ll find something that brings back the butterflies.

 

Until next time,

Cole

The Courage it Takes to Walk Away

 

When I came out, I knew that over the course of the following months and years, my life would forever be changed. Not because I would be changing, but because I was going to test every relationship in my life. Anyone in my life was on the chopping block. Does that sound harsh? I thought it did, so for a year, I didn’t follow through on my empty promise of walking away from anyone who didn’t make me feel loved, accepted, and most importantly respected.

I spent 26 years of my life wasting precious time that I will never get back because I was debiliated. I couldn’t live my life to the fullest or even half of the capacity that I wanted to because I was so busy being what everyone told me I had to be and living up to everyone else’s expectations for me. I wasted so much time that I can’t get back. I didn’t make any meaningful friends. I avoided people. I worked, I locked myself away in an apartment. I spent 26 years dying, not living.

I knew one day I would have to walk away from people I love. I kept telling myself one day they would love me back. Not who they expected me to be, but the real me. Sadly, a year into my transition, I can now clearly see the people who love me and the people who don’t. It’s a harsh reality to realize the people who would rather lose you than respect you. It’s even harsher when some of them are the ones that are supposed to be your home team no matter what. But eventually, I had to look at my life, and I had to weed out the toxic parts of my life, no matter how big or small their roles.

You may be asking yourself, how do you really know if someone doesn’t respect you? All I can tell you is this: everyone will eventually show you their true colors, you just have to keep your eyes open. It might look something like this:

Yes, this is a real text.

As soon as your trans status becomes an option for someone else to either accept or not accept or your “situation” rather than simply who you are, then it’s time for you to really evaluate your life.

You don’t owe anyone your wasted time. You don’t owe them an option to “bend”. They don’t have a choice to accept or not. As you can see above, some people will only see you as the role you are supposed to play in their life, never as your own person. If someone can’t respect you and embrace you when you aren’t around, there really is no purpose for them in your life. It doesn’t matter if it’s a friend or if it’s your own mother, you have every right and obligation to yourself to walk away and never look back.

So how do you do it? I don’t really know the answer to this question. I guess one day at a time you just take a step and refuse to look back. I am still working on not feeling sorry or guilty for choosing myself over others. I gave them my whole childhood and adolescence, I just can’t give them my today or tomorrows anymore.

The moral of this story, love yourself enough that it makes it okay when others don’t love you. Regardless of blood, no one in this world has to wake up and live your life day after day. Take care of you, other people will embrace you or they will let you walk away. If someone constantly disrespects your presence, make them respect your absence.

You are beautiful and you are exactly who you are. You don’t owe anyone anything. Regardless of how much they have given you or how long you have known them. Don’t waste 26 years of your life hating yourself so others can decide if they want to love you “situations” and “choices”.

I promise you, you will find your people. You will find the friends that you need. You will watch people step up for you and embrace you. People will love you, but first, you have to love yourself. You have to be okay with ripping the bandaid off, no matter how bad it hurts.

Just like people won’t bend for me, I will no longer bend for them

You shouldn’t either.

Until next time,

 

Cole

 

 

 

Is this the one you’re stalking my blog for?

I guess you’re right. It probably isn’t fair of me to never address the end of an era in this blog that is supposed to be the tell-all about my life. You want it? You got it. If it hurts you, just remember, this is what you come here day after day looking for.

My marriage failed.

The saddest thing about my marriage failing?

It was meant to.

Because in a lot of ways, you’re right. I was a monster and I created a monster out of you. I gave you everything you wanted. I cooked, cleaned, chauffeured, and flooded you with gifts. $200 dollars on make-up here, $50 plus dollars on bringing you Starbucks an hour and a half away from me just because you said you “might take me back” after you broke up with me while you were drunk. I made you into a monster the same way you made me one. I made you ungrateful, selfish and lazy.

I won’t say marrying you was a mistake. But I will say that the purpose of marrying you, in the grand scheme of my life, was to learn a valuable lesson about forced love, forced expectations, and heartbreak. It was not to love one another til death do us part.

Though I knew this was going to happen, part of me still thought it would be okay. Let’s be honest, I haven’t seen many “healthy” relationships in my life. I thought fighting was “love”.

But, we didn’t have love. We never had love. We had an addiction to each other. You to what I could give you and me to the chase. After all, you were the first girl that didn’t want me. Call me competitive, but I was young and I was into it. We never loved. We clung. I needed you and you needed me and I never ever want to need someone again.

When you cheated on me, I fought because I was too proud and, ask my mom, I’ve been a shitty loser since birth. And honestly, I thought I deserved it. I believed that my transition was to blame. But it wasn’t. It never was. You wanted a funeral, you didn’t want a birthday party. You never ONCE embraced me or celebrated with me. You simply accepted it and used it. I was your token trans-husband. I was what you flashed around to seem like you knew everything about being trans and to give yourself street credit in the LGBTQ community, but behind close doors, you did and you do resent my decision to transition. Even to this day, you are still milking my transition for every ounce of attention it gives you. On behalf of trans people- shut up. No one made you the spokesperson for “the victimized half that is our partners”. They all had the same decision you had: to stay or go. Sorry you didn’t like your decision.

I guess you must’ve forgot how hard you pushed me to do it.

Either way, water under the bridge don’t you think? I basically have a full-beard and like you said, the old me is dead.

At the end of the day, let’s call me telling a hot friend that “I don’t think me on T loves you” is “cheating” in the same way as you being out all night with a guy you met on Tinder.

I fucked up. I didn’t talk to you about it. I wonder why I didn’t talk to you? Maybe because every conversation ended in yelling and throwing things and break-ups. We could never talk about shit that made us uncomfortable.

But I didn’t do what you did. I didn’t have the audacity to cheat while you were out working 60 hour weeks. I didn’t have the audacity to text you while I was on the date and tell you how much “fun” you were having with your “friends from school”.

And while we are on the subject, just so you know, I saw the texts. You didn’t cheat on me in November. It started in October. So. Let’s stop that “one date” bullshit.

You were abused? I dated my wife for two weeks, begging for her, while she told me she “wasn’t ready” to stop talking to the cis-man she cheated on me with.

For you being so in to MEN suddenly, I can’t understand why my transition is still to blame? It just doesn’t make sense how in every story you’re the victim.

You can have your story. You can have you false accusations. You can ignore all your mistakes.

I won’t do that. I don’t have time for that. I can be the monster in your story but over here, you’re barely a token character in the story the is my life. I am young, my story is barely starting. You are just someone who passed through. I won’t say you destroyed me, you just convinced me to destroy myself.

The thing is, I’m good. And I am being good. And every mistake I made with you, I know I won’t make this time around. Because I will never let anyone take me from my friends. I will never let anyone expect material things from me. I don’t want unconditional love, I just want a good teammate for my life. You were never that.

But when the smoke cleared, and all that’s left is ashes:

I don’t wish you anything bad. I don’t wish you pain. I don’t have a taste for revenge. I don’t want to make anything hard for you. I just want to move on and I want you to do the same. I have every intention of being a better man this next time around, and I hope you have the same intention. We were toxic. We were bad. We were a perfect example of why too much emotion is a very bad thing. I hope you find joy. I hope you find happiness. I hope you fall in the kind of love that makes you want to be better. I hope one day, like me, you can wake up and roll over and realize you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You can retaliate if you want. Slander me. Make me a monster. I won’t see it. You won’t be mentioned or thought about in these blogs, because I deserve to be happy. I deserve the good things I have found. I can’t see the monster in the mirror anymore.

 

Cole

So your trans kid/friend/loved one came out to you….

Chances are if you are reading this, your loved one, possibly your child, has come out and told you they are transgender. It can be scary. Especially in today’s world where the transgender community is beaten and battered and it still isn’t safe for us to walk around in the open all the time. Don’t be scared. Be proud. The amount of courage it takes to put all of this together and to decide to transition is amazing, and you, in some way, probably helped raise such a strong and beautiful person. Don’t forget that.

So it happened. “I’m transgender”.

The first step in all of this is to understand that the fact that your feelings and opinions do not matter as much as you think they do or should. Does that sound fair? No. It’s not fair to ever have to come out at all, so recognize the silent privileges you have been given for absolutely no reason other than the way you were born. Coming out and transitioning is a 100% selfish process. It is going to require your loved one to stare at themselves and it’s going to require them to pull themselves out of the darkness that is the body they’ve lived their whole life trapped in.

 

Next, hold them. It’s okay to reach out for them. Let them cry, let them breathe. Let them survive this on their own. Don’t make it hard for them. Let them know it’s going to be okay by loving them through it.

Ask

Ask is the most important part of this. But not the questions that you’re going to want to ask. Ask them the following questions:

“What would you like me to call you?”

“What pronouns should I be using?”

“How can I support you?”

You asking these three questions is how you RESPECT someone’s body and identity. Three simple questions.

It’s going to be hard for you, and you’re going to slip up. I couldn’t even use my own name all the time. Sometimes, I would even sign my dead name on papers without thinking. Change, especially one like this, is hard. But you changing the name you use for someone is way easier with a lot of practice. If you slip up, fix it, but don’t dwell or draw attention to it. The mis-gendering/dead-naming wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me in the beginning of my transition, it was the loud and obnoxious apology (often times in front of people) that was drawing attention to me.

And after the smoke clears, and you start moving on with a normal routine, remember this:

This person is still your child, friend, or family-member. They did not “change”, the person you have all these memories with is not “gone”, they are just on a new path to find themselves. Love them the same as you did before. Don’t feel the need to re-discover them. They have barely even discovered themselves. Just love them and stay with them.

Talk about the memories and old stories, just replace the name and pronouns in the stories. Make them feel loved and accepted because walking the streets alone as a trans person in America is not warm and safe. It is risky, scary and intimating. Their battle is not over once they come out. It is only beginning.

My balls are floating away in the lazy river if I post this…

You make me a better person. You make me more calm, more patient, and more kind. With everyone else, I would just judge on the actions they take, but with you, I crave an understanding. I want to fully understand you. Who you are, where you’ve been and what makes you who you are. I want to know and understand all the good and bad things that have turned you into the amazing woman you are. I want to understand your troubles and your fears so I know how to support you and help you face them. I don’t want to be the hero of your story. I want to help you be your own hero.  You make me more than I was. Everything about you enhances and heightens the good in me while simutaneously calming the storm that is my not so good side.

I stopped believing things were going to work out for me. I’ve worked hard my whole life. I haven’t been perfect, in fact, mostly when I look back, I only see myself as the monster. But I have worked hard and I can say this with 100% truth, I have been good. I have mucked stables, thrown hay to horses at 5am, I’ve served people their food, I’ve cared for elderly and disabled who couldn’t care for themselves, I’ve held hands of people taking their final breath. I have taken every opportunity in this world to give to others, and I was okay with that. I was okay with taking the shitty things life has to offer, because if I was going through something bad, I felt like at least someone else wasn’t. I stopped believing that anything good was just going to fall into my lap like it seems to happen for other people. I was content and determined to continue this journey completely alone and 100% commited to myself. Every time I had feelings for someone, in someway, I felt abandoned or used. I give. I give too much sometimes. I have always tried to buy affections. I didn’t think I was good enough as I was, so I made myself look better by showering the people I was interested in with fancy gifts, dates, rides.. anything I could give to them. Before I knew it, the only way I knew how to love was physically and financially. I didn’t know how to open up to people or talk. I didn’t know how to actually love someone.

I think I know how to love you better than I use to love people. Loving you is like breathing. I don’t have to think about how I am going to do it, it just happens. Day after day. Some days the air is heavy and breathing is harder, but it’s like I just know what to do. I am more honest with you. I am less ashamed of my past with you. I care about you in a way that I can’t even describe. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see you happy and keep you from being hurt. I will take some of the weight off your shoulders. There are plenty of things in your life that I don’t really have to deal with. You’d never ask me to. You’d never expect me to. But I will do it day after day. If you’re struggling, I am taking some of that too. I’ll take some of the weight of your world into mine. Because you’re my best friend. I’ll drag your kid out of a restaurant screaming while you finish your drink. Just because you’re a single mom doesn’t mean you can’t have a teammate. You are Jordan. I’m Pippen. You’re the star, but I’m always around if you need an assist. I’ll put your success and happiness equal with mine every day. I won’t ever make you feel less-than. Your goals are just as important as mine. Your happiness brings me happiness.

I promised myself after my marriage went up in flames and the smoke cleared that I would be better to myself. That I wouldn’t focus on anyone other than myself. That I wouldn’t ever give anyone the opportunity to break me down or use me the way I had allowed myself to be used. That I’d never let something make me a monster or make me live my life in anger. Then you walked in. And I knew from the first night we sat on your couch talking about shoving people off buildings that you’re the person I want to stand beside as long as I can. Not in front of (one, you don’t need me to protect you and two, um… buildings. You’d push me. Rule follower!), not behind, but right there beside you. So if you’re walking through hell, well, me too.

I remember every song you’ve ever sang in my car, I remember every song you sang in Jackie’s car. I never stop getting distracted when you walk into a room or walk by me. I never stop getting lost in your eyes. I have never felt peace quite the way I feel at peace when you’re in my arms. I think everything you do is beautiful. You are wonderful. Even with your flaws and hanger and crabbiness, I would still choose you to play basketball with, every day.

Being with me is never going to be easy, but for some reason I think you think it is. Which must mean something for the relationship we have. You will have to deal with people who don’t understand who I am. You will have to deal with people who think something is wrong with you for caring for me. I am sorry for that. I am sorry for any difficulty being with me brings you. Who I am has made me my fair share of enemies who don’t even know me, and for any discrimination you face or see as a result of being with me, I am so sorry that some of the world isn’t ready for the man I am. But I will always protect you from that stuff.

Every day I am amazed at how you do all you do. Keep two beautiful smart kids alive while balancing school and a full-time job and somehow you still never miss an opportunity to be there for me. If you ever feel like you’re not enough, just look in my eyes. Cause I will tell you every time, you are more.

I try to keep my feelings in check and then you catch me staring at you while you’re stuffing your face with chicken nuggets watching Netflix and you ask me “what”, and I lie and say “nothing”, but I always want to say “everything”. Because that’s exactly what you are. Everything.

Man-iversary

This coming week I will be celebrating my first full year on testosterone. So this blog is going to be dedicated to all the things that have changed and all that I’ve learned in the last year.

1: Growing hair is itchy. Like seriously. My face. My butt. My armpits. My legs. ITCHY EVERYWHERE.

2. Acne is not something to joke about. I didn’t have bad acne growing up. Now that I’m growing up again, I have the worst acne. It hurts. It makes you feel crappy. It makes people assume you don’t wash your face- I WASH MY FUCKING FACE. It’s just part of life.

3. It’s hard to fit into the world. As you go through your first year of transition, you go through this middle point. You know. Like for me, I looked like a girl with a beard but a deep voice and it was just awkward and uncomfortable. Almost no one knows how to address you so most won’t. You’ll feel lonely and like this journey isn’t worth the struggle, but like all things, this too passes.

4. Kids have no filters. When I had to have “THE TALK” with my nieces and nephews, the first question I got, courtesy of Isaac, was “What are you going to do with your boobs? Can I have them?” Well. Um.. NO. Also.. Why would you want them? Do we need to talk? Kids just talk. And you can’t take it personal. They are just unfiltered little spawns of Satan. Not their fault.

5. There is a difference between acceptance and embracement. I use to think I just wanted my family, friends and coworkers to accept me. It took me a really long time to realize that acceptance isn’t what I really needed. A lot of people will “accept” you, but it doesn’t mean they will embrace who you are and respect that person. My family made no attempt to use my preferred names or pronouns. They thought me going by them was just “too hard” for them to change. At the end of the day, the people that love you and EMBRACE you will be the people who respect you. Those will be the people that respect you even when you’re not around. I know my family doesn’t embrace me yet. They simply accept me in public eye.

6. I learned that it’s okay to be selfish. I don’t owe anyone any apologies or any explanations. You don’t get to question how I knew, what I knew and if I’m sure. I don’t owe you that.

7. Never let yourself be fenced in or put into a box. The people who love you will never mourn some loss, they will celebrate a new chapter. The people who embrace and respect you will never walk out on you.

8. It’s okay to realize you don’t love someone. While it will hurt, like all endings usually do, it is better in the long run to tackle that pain head on. No matter how bad it sucks. Despite whether you end up sleeping in your car or going without food. Fight through it.

9. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. There are billions of people in the world that have it worse off than some middle-class white transgender guy. Even if that transgender guy is legally homeless and living penny to penny. There are people that don’t even have a cool car to sleep in. Remember that. On your worst day, some people would give anything to swap your shoes.

10. Once you stop looking, something beautiful usually finds you. This is true in so many situations. Opportunities in this world have a way of presenting themselves to you at some of the most unexpected times. When life hands you something beautiful, take it. Don’t wonder if it’s too soon, if it’s too good to be true, if it’s going to end up hurting you in the end. Take it and run because life isn’t so giving sometimes.

11. Fall in love every day. I thought falling in love was an act. Something that you did once and that was it. You’re in it. Once I got rid of the bad things in my life, I realized that I can fall in love every day. With myself, with my friends, with new music and art. Love isn’t something that you do once with another person, it’s something that you can have a part of every day of your life.

12. Just kiss the girl. You’re nervous. You want to kiss her. Just do it. And even if you do it after spitting out a really cheap pick up line like “Want to find out if you’re contagious”, just kiss the girl. Or the guy. Or anyone you want to kiss (as long as it is consensual- there will be no pussy-grabbing in this blog).

13. Be a person of your word. If you say you’re going to do something, do it. If you say you’re not going to, don’t. It’s simple. If you make plans, keep them.

14. Respect other people’s struggles. Respect their lives and the things they’ve lived through. Get to know the things that have humbled them and the things that have hurt them. Never make people feel ashamed of their past, their stories are authentic and they deserve to be told even if the stories have no happy endings or are full of monsters.

15. Work hard every day. Life is hard. Don’t quit. Don’t give up. Don’t be the person who rolled over. If you get hit, stand back up. Over and over.

16. Know your team. It takes a team to succeed. Not everyone in your boat is rowing, some might be trying to sink it when you aren’t looking. Cut those players. A loyal team of two will always out-value a larger team of backstabbers.

 

Obviously, I have learned way more than this. These are just the big things. Through all the bullshit I have been through in the last year and after all I thought I’ve lost. I’ve gained so much beauty. Even on my worst days I feel blessed to have what I do. I have a solid understanding of myself, who I am and what I want. I have someone who makes me genuinely happy and a more honest, patient and understanding man who I would move mountains for and I have little people who give me a reason to work harder every day.

Here’s to year two I guess,

 

Cole

 

This isn’t a Father’s Day Post

This isn’t to my dad. Just to the man who thinks he is because he knocked my mom up.

Coming around trying to be friendly? Drunk? Starting to regret walking out on your kids? Or are you just getting older and realizing how much you threw away? Oh, you miss me?

Can I ask you something, Dale?

How can you miss someone you don’t know?

I’m not your son. I’m not your family. I’m no better or more important than some stranger that you walk past on the sidewalk. You mean nothing more than this guy sitting across the coffee shop from me. Actually, you probably mean less. If he needed help, I’d probably stand-up to lend a hand, but if you needed help, I’d have to really think about it. You don’t get to miss me.

Don’t get confused though. I don’t hate you. I don’t know you anymore than you miss me. You don’t deserve the energy it would take to hate you. I just am indifferent. You just don’t matter to me.

You think about me a lot huh? Miss me?

You don’t know me. You don’t know half the shit I’ve been through. You don’t know what I like to do. You don’t know who I am. You don’t know anything about the monsters I battle everyday. You don’t know the trials and tribulations that built me. You walk around claiming me as your kid but let’s be honest, Dale, what color are my eyes?

See, I can’t sit here and imagine not knowing the color of my child’s eyes. I can’t imagine not knowing their favorite color or the foods they don’t like. I can’t even begin to fathom how I could wake up every morning for 25 years and look myself in the mirror knowing that I’m a deadbeat, piece of shit that walked out on his kid.

I’m lucky though. I am so glad you walked out of my life because I know that if you were my dad, I would be less of a man and more like you. If you stayed, I wouldn’t have the dad that I have.

When you stepped down and out of my life, you left the door wide open for a great man to step in and step up.

My dad isn’t perfect, I’m sure you know that. But he never had to be for me to love him and want to be a good son to him. All he had to do was the one thing you were too worthless to do: stay.

Out of all the bad times our family had growing up, he never abandoned me. He was at every single basketball game. And when I tore my ACL, he had me in his arms before I even hit the floor. It was like he was already there. And he carried me to the car. He didn’t have to be a superhero, even though at times he seemed like he was. He just had to be there. When him and my mother had fights or even when they were split up for a short period of time, he stayed for me. And trust me Dale, I was a shit-show as a kid. I partied. I hung out with the wrong people. I had a temper. I was not an easy person to love, but he did. He still does. To this day, even while we live a thousand miles apart from each other, my dad would never fail me or let me fall. My dad will always be there.

So no Dale, I don’t want a relationship with you. I don’t hate you. Your part in my life ended the moment you walked out. You want to know if it’s too late to change this around? Yeah. 25 years too late. There is nothing you can do for me anymore. I can change my oil, change a flat tire and I’m a pretty decent man. And none of that has nothing to do with you.

I won’t lie, I wanted you to want me for so long. I don’t know why. I just wanted to make you proud. I thought that if I was better you’d want me. Maybe because I thought if my own biological father couldn’t even pretend to like me there was no way anyone could ever love and stay for me. Remember when you were going to pick me up after I got out of the hospital and we were going to ride your motorcycle? I’m sure you don’t. It’s probably just something you said, but let me give you a lesson in kids, Dale, we remember. We remember every broken promise, every empty dream, and every time you didn’t show up.

I won’t say that you haven’t had any impact on the man I am. Trust me. You, more than anyone, have showed me exactly how to be a man. I figure if I just choose the opposite choices that you made, I will be okay-ish. I’ll stay around for any kids that are in my life. I will be the man my father was, I will love them whole-heartedly, unconditionally regardless of the blood in their veins. You have showed me how little that blood or that last name means in the long-run. You have showed me exactly why I will never drink when I’m mad and why I will never turn my back on my family. See, you did something right. By example, you taught me all the ways someone can be a shitty person, so I know exactly what not to do.

You think this was a Father’s Day post? I’ll save that for my dad. Not just some stranger with the same blood in his veins.

Take care, talk to you in what.. 2 or 3 years?

 

 

Cole.

SpinCycle Blog: I’m changing, and dreaming (again) *insert shrug emoji*

People can change. People do change every single day. Just because they appear the same day after day in your eyes doesn’t mean they aren’t gradually growing into the person they are meant to be. Some are deteriorating into a worse version of themselves and some are picking up the pieces of their broken lives and trying to make a conscious effort to be a better person.

I have spent a lot of my life being a “loose cannon”. I would say probably the first twenty-five years of my life I lived at the mercy of my own mind. Any emotion I felt, I took it and I ran with it. There were no happy or sad moments in my teenage years. I was either ecstatic or depressed. There was no anger, there was just rage.

I lost my first love at sixteen. It wasn’t a girl. It was basketball. When I tore my ACL the second time, I realized my dreams weren’t going to come true. At least my sixteen-year old dreams weren’t going to happen. Basketball was going to be my way out. My way to a free college education and my way out of that tiny four-way stop sign town. I was going to be something. Sixteen-year old me would be very disappointed. I don’t make 100K a year. Sometimes I struggle to put gas in my car. I am not living the glamorous lifestyle that I thought I was heading for.

Your dreams don’t die. They change and grow with you.

I never made it to play college ball. I’m okay with it now. Like all loves that leave you scarred, I now kind of regret pushing myself so hard. Some days I can’t even walk down a flight of stairs without remembering the toll chasing that dream took on my body.

My dreams are different now. More mature. More controlled and realistic. I just want to be good. And be enough. I’ve been the villain in a lot of people’s stories. There are some chapters of people’s lives where I am the monster. I have been selfish. I have cheated. I have been cruel. I have taken every ounce of pain I have felt and for a long time, I let it make me a monster.

I have changed. I am not perfect. But every day I am working on being a more honest, loving and warm person to be around. I have no interest in being a main character in anyone else’s story, whether it be as a hero or villain. I just want to focus on my story. Focus on each chapter of my life and put my energy there. I want my life to be rich with quality friendships and relationships. I don’t need fancy things or tons of cash (but if anyone wants to give me any of those things, I will humbly accept).  I just need to look in the mirror and see something better every day.

The point of this late-night laundromat ramble? Work every single day as hard as you can to be a better person when you lay back down at night. Strive for greatness. I think we all get stuck in the day-to-day routine. Our 40, 50, 60+ hour work weeks drain us of our passion, our drive and our freedom, but push through those days where you feel stuck. Get up early, go to the gym. Watch the sunrise. Listen to Mayday Parade’s new album. Do something new. Grow. Even if no one can see it. And let your dreams evolve with you. It’s okay to set goals and reach for things you want. Make it a priority to take care of yourself.

I am a work in progress. I am working every day on being the type of man I think I want to be. I have forgiven myself for my mistakes and I have been working day after day to move past them.

 

Until next time, Colt.