the final hurdle

In retail, we spend essentially a third of our year gearing up for the holiday shopping season.  Planning, strategizing, implementing, and then really just holding on and riding it out once December hits.  This is my 14th holiday season in retail so it's really not new to me.  This year was going to be a little different from the last, like... maybe six years.  Because I'm running my own store?  Well yes, technically.  Also because of a break up that I'm so tired of writing about but still finding lessons within.  So if it's the most wonderful time of year and 'tis the season to be merry, why do I find myself looking so much into the past?

The overpriced 2017 tree.

The holiday season largely has been a marathon for me.  I started listening to Christmas music the instant Halloween was over, putting the spooky decorations away while bopping around the house in a festive mood and feeling a little bit lighter in my stride.  After all, I made it through the first of the three big holidays, the other two should be a breeze!  I decorated with garland and berries and faux snow, the cute and delightful things I've collected from Pottery Barn bringing a certain nostalgia to life in the house.  I've had a lot of my decorations for coming up on ten years now so to open the green and red totes and pull them out, it reminds me of how I felt in my childhood when it was time to decorate (much like with Halloween when mom would get the boxes down from the attic so I could rummage through them, assigning memories as I went).  As a child I'd place the carol singing teddy bear on a sofa, paying attention to the fast his little Santa hat was starting to tear off.  The red wood berry garland that eventually became my own but that I liked to whip around because it sounded cool.  A green paper tree with sequins glued to it that my sister made and seemed to survive every year.  And of course the buckets of ornaments that were collected over a lifetime.

While not everything I own stretches back that far, it's this time of year in general that brings me back to the past.

Anyway, you're probably still wondering how life has been a marathon.

I think it's been one due to the fact I've been solely focused on the time zipping by so I can go home and see my family.  Solely focused, in a strange way.  I posted a lot on social media last holiday season, and the one before (and the one before) because I was happy and in love and wanted to show it off.  In a moment of self-preservation this summer and with the foresight intention of sparing myself the gut rushes that could come with seeing those posts, I deleted the visual reminders of who that love was with.  Status updates and gingerbread house competitions and tree-cutting excursions stille exist, as it were, and they seem to pop up with reckless abandon like little slaps in the face.  For the most part I can shoulder them off and that's good.

Maybe part of me is just convinced that this year when I go home and see my friends and family, I'll finally realize that I'm okay?  That I've been okay, and that I'm going to still be okay?  Some days don't really feel like that... but there are even less and less days now than there were a month ago where I could cry on cue if you asked me to.  The proof's in the pudding and when you add up the sum of my parts: I'm okay.

That ability to cry on cue however is not due to an overriding feeling of loneliness by any means, it's just my life in general right now.  Concern over my financial situation, said loneliness, stress at work, stress of the holidays, and trying to come across all the while as strong.  This is my reality now and it was so much easier to deal with when I had someone at my side, but I don't anymore and that's okay.  Just one more thing for me to figure out, and I will in due time.

This past week I was sick for several days and that was rough.  Why is it that being sick as an adult, living alone, with no friends or family nearby is just the worst thing ever?  On Tuesday I sat motionless on my coffee table, sitting straight backed and rigid, with a fever of 102.4.  Laying down made me feel worse, reclining was just awful, so I sat up for an hour and a half and just let my brain cook away in my skull.  No TV or music, just silence.  Save for the cats, of course, purring beside me because they never stop and I wouldn't make them if I even could.  I took two and a half days off from work to just be sick and let myself get better and it granted me the time to think and process the past and the holiday season and all that hoo-ha.

I wrote a long time ago about a quote I had read once and it held a lot of meaning for me.  "Don't look back, you're not going that way."  For some reason I've always been the kind of person to keep an eye on the past.  Not because I fear it crawling up and biting me in the ass, but I think because I am always looking for reason and meaning to learn another lesson.  We go through things in life all the time, what better than to grow and adapt from said things?  Sometimes we don't know what there is to learn when we're in it... we don't know where to look and/or what we should even be looking for.

I look back at the winter seasons I've spent in relationships and I can't help but think on what it was each person brought to the table that I miss the most, and is it something I really still yearn for?  Christmas' past, or really the "ex's" of Christmas' past, all had unique qualities and traits that stand out.  It was Peter in 2004, with his homemade Christmas card filled with handwriting so beautiful and perfectly concise and a prose that waxed nostalgia so sweetly that I've kept it for 13 years now.  It was Ken and his giddy excitement to watch The Grinch and eat candy canes and decorate everything with brightly colored lights and do all of the things that make Christmas what it is to the masses.  It was Johnny and his heartfelt and deliberate effort to make the holiday stand out for me in such a cool, calculated and particular way that I still miss him and feel a dose of regret for how it ended.

And of course it's Derek... but for what he brought to the table, I'm not sure.  He was mostly just there, going along with whatever I wanted to do.  Maybe his contribution will come to me in time, though something tells me it won't.

That's why I keep an eye on the past.

Christmas for me is similar to my "okay" feeling about life right now; Christmas is made up of the sum of its parts.  It's hot chocolate on cold days, a freshly cut tree lighting the living room, and lights in the bushes outside.  It's the movies I watch every year, the music I listen to for two months on end, and it's picking a theme for my wrapping paper.  Christmas is seeing my friends and my family, it's hugging them and laughing and sharing stories of the year, and ultimately it's about taking a few minutes alone at the end of that day, every year, to think about what I'm grateful for.

Maybe next year I won't be spending so much time alone.  Maybe I'll have met someone that introduces me to their own traditions, that teaches me something about the season I've not yet experienced, and that opens my eyes to a wider world.  I can't explain to you what it feels like to have hope in my heart again, as I feel saying "it's good" is an understatement.  But I do have hope, and over the last few months I feel like I've continued to shed weight from my shoulders with each passing day.  I'll make it through Christmas just fine and then that's really it for the year.  The "firsts" are over and I can greet 2018 with a middle finger and get on with my life.  That's how I do things lately, anyway.

For now I'm going to wrap this up in a big bow, continue to pack my suitcase for a long weekend in Wisconsin, and listen to some tunes that I won't bring back around for another 10 months.  Darlene Love sang it best, and it's to her that I say ciao for now.

Cuz I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year.

 

clean slates

As I sit to write this it's a little past 10pm.  I just took a shower and have that "warm and cozy" feeling permeating me.  There's a cold glass of eggnog on the coffee table, the room is lit by the glow of my freshly decorated Christmas tree, and outside?  Well, outside it's snowing.

I've always found a little magic in the first snowfall.  It seems so foreign to see the world swathed in pure white fluff even if it is for a short time (or longer, depending on the temperatures of days that will follow).  Foreign, yet familiar in that this is essentially what I've grown up with.  Since I was 11, months on end of snow and cold weather every year save for the blip of Austin.  The snow eventually turns gray and then brown, either the roads mucking it up or dirt from the lawn absorbing into it.  But right now it's white, and it's clean, and it's magical.

Last week I was down in Austin for my brother Josh's wedding where I was fortunate enough to be the best man as well.  In a lot of ways I was looking forward to this trip and in several more I was dreading it.  A wedding itself is a joyous occasion and with all of the people involved it was sure to be.  The little cloud above it was that this was coming during a very busy time of year for me, coincidentally hot on the heels of a corporate visit to my store, and of course best of all: a reminder that my engagement ended in a fiery wreck.

The reception area

When Josh asked me to be his best man it was something I agreed to without question.  It's just what you do, and I was happy to go along with it and everything it entailed.  That being said I was also freshly heartbroken and nervous about surrounding myself with someone else's divine happiness.  Never one to wallow in self-pity I of course shoved these thoughts to the side (as I am prone to doing when it's time to focus), but they were still there.  I knew I'd be giving a speech at the wedding, and took my time over the following months drafting something I felt appropriate for the occasion.  The podium I set myself on when it comes to these things is a little high, but I've never not delivered on it.

As such, here's a video of the speech, and if you're so inclined I've included the actual words below.

*  *  *

Speeches… y’know I’ve gotta get this out of the way right now because if I don’t it’s a whole thing later. I’ve given enough of these things to say without a doubt that when I start to cry (note that I said when and not if,) you are all encouraged to laugh and that’ll push me right along.  Anyway, I’m Sean Parker, the Best Man, and I’ve got something to say.

So… speeches!  I’m fortunate to have spoken at a few of these things, sharing my words at the weddings of my three best friends.  I told stories of how we met, the unyielding love and respect we have for each other, the hopes and wishes I have for them… all that.  But those speeches were for my friends.  What is it that you say at the wedding of a person you’ve known since birth?  A person you watched learn the tough lessons, one who paved the path for you in so many ways?  We choose our friends, so tonight… what do you say about a guy you really just… got stuck with?

A lot of people go into these with the intent of a roast but I’ve never been a fan of that.  I’ll take it too far, Josh’ll end up crying, it’s best to just avoid it.  I’m lucky enough to be the best man at my big brother’s wedding and I don’t take it lightly.  Do I share embarrassing stories about you getting caught burning your action figures in your bedroom when you were 16, or that time you got busted fishing for cars?  When you tried to scare me wearing a Boba Fett helmet and I knocked you unconscious?  I mean… hold out a bag of mortifying things and this guy hovers in droves near the top.

Anyway, let’s talk about movies!  And I know what you’re thinking... how are there so many tall people in this wedding party?  But I want to talk about movies.  The anatomy of a movie is pretty basic, you have a beginning with strong roots to establish the story, a middle with some “filler” to build up the story, and then an ending that hopefully reaches some sort of climactic and emotional payoff.

Here’s a beginning.  Josh and I grew up in a movie house. If we weren’t watching them on VHS as a family unit, or going to Rainbow Theater to see them on the big screen, we were making them.  Josh in particular.  We made all sorts of movies!  One where Josh saved a princess and wished upon a shooting star for a magical glove.  One where our sister Megan turned into a murderer because of an experimental drug our father made for headaches.  And a sequel to Home Alone, naturally, where young me got to “pee” on a burglar with a turkey baster.  But this was us.  Coming up with stories and tales to share with maybe not necessarily the masses, but each other. Those evolved into short stories for Josh and I on paper, and then eventually Josh tried writing a book from one of his ideas called “Hero.” Did you know that?  It’s true.  I actually published three books of my own but we don’t need to talk about that.  Though if you’re feeling spendy tonight you can buy them right through Amazon.

Our childhoods were made up by creating a narrative that would keep us entertained and enthusiastic about our lives.  There were no smart phones and time on the Nintendo was limited by our parents so we resorted to make believe.   And since we just lived for movies, we applied movies to our lives... picturing scenes in our minds that we could play out.  Or later in life, even finding ourselves in moments that seemed to have been taken from the silver screen itself.  That was us.  That still is us.  Searching and hunting for the romance or the drama, the suspense and laughter that comes in a daily routine.

This is a founding pillar of Josh and I, it’s what we’ve always had in common.  That love of a scene... the theatricality behind the online meeting of two strangers to an eventual proposal amidst thousands of paper lanterns in the middle of a field as they were lit and sent to the sky.  Always fans of the theatrics.

Here’s a middle.  When I first met Anne, it was in Austin and she and Josh had only been dating for a couple weeks.  I was in a new relationship at the time as well, so Josh and I got to meet our significant others at the same time, which was truly special.  I think the two of us grew up at different times and in different places, but somehow we managed to meet up again at the same stage in life.  Josh and I seemed to be going through everything together, sharing the firsts as they happened and bouncing ideas and thoughts and problems off each other in the process.  A few months after that meeting, Anne did something that cemented my opinion of her: she flew me down to Austin to surprise Josh for his birthday.  And guys, it was his 37^th birthday, so like… who cares, right?  But Anne did.  The fact that she wanted to fly me down was astounding for two reasons.  Firstly, I’d only ever known Josh to be the one to do sweeping romantic gestures.  Secondly, she had already come to learn the most important thing about a big bad former marine: he’s a total crybaby. 

It was a well choreographed event that had us meeting up in kayak’s on a river with him not having a single clue, and it was perfect.  It was Anne, in a nutshell.  Planning something to a perfect T and getting to enjoy the fruits of her labor.  I was able to spend time with them alone on that trip, and what was remarkable was how much Josh had changed in those few short months since I had first met her.  I suppose since he had first met her, as well.  I figured (and knew) Anne was a truly special person, especially to have… what’s the word I’m looking for… “whipped” Josh into shape?

A few years ago, someone told me that my family was a cold family.  It struck me, because I’d certainly never thought of us that way.  We’re not overly affectionate,  sure, but cold?  This stayed with me for a long time, something I went back to semi-frequently with Josh and our sister Megan.  But as the years have gone on and I’ve gotten a little older, I can’t help but look at us in a different light.  We may not hug and kiss every time we see each other like some families, but we know what we mean to one another.  We’re there when we’re needed, always just a phone call away.  When we aren’t needed, for better or worse, we keep our distance.  Sometimes the things on the surface might seem warm and cozy but I find it’s when you look a little deeper that you find the true warmth and the real love.

The Parker’s come from a long lineage of all sorts of artists.  Painters, illustrators and writers.  Some published books of artwork, some mastered watercolors, several mastered instruments, and one in particular can bake any damn cake you could possibly imagine.  But Josh, you and I tell our stories through different mediums.  You communicate your truth with your art, I write mine through my words, and we still move in tandem creating stories.  I think these last few years you’ve been setting the stage for your own movie, and now you and Anne get to take the reigns of the leading characters.  Tonight is a strong emotional piece, but it’s certainly the end of your movie.  My relationship didn't work out, but yours did.  I am so proud of you, and I am eternally happy for you and your success in finding love.  And to Anne, as the self-proclaimed PR person to this particular clan and the one that talks the most, I formally welcome you into the Parker family.

In the end, we have the families that we are born into and we have the families that we choose, and I find there’s always a little magic in combinations of the two.  So let us raise a toast to Josh and Anne.   May your film blaze new trails, may the scenes and perfect moments continue to flow, and may you never retread the footsteps that have already been walked.  That’s called plagiarism.  Cheers! 

*  *  *

There is one line in this speech that was written in the first draft and made it all the way through the end, one I recited with every practice round of the speech.  Eight simple words, really just a sentence with a happy ending.  Eight easy words, themselves a statement of fact.  Eight words that I just could not bring myself to speak out loud.

"My relationship didn't work out, but yours did."

It isn't that I was afraid to say it in the speech, and it wasn't that I accidentally skipped over them.  They weren't to convey jealousy or anger, bitterness or anything unsavory.  That's not how I feel about the situation.  There's a 50/50 chance for everybody in life and love, and when the dice shook out it came down to two brothers, both very much alike, and one of them lost at love while the other found victory.  That being said, it was when I got to those words that everything rose up around me in this cloud I didn't realize could even possibly or remotely still have a chance of being there.  In that small infinitesimal moment, everything that was supposed to happen for Derek and I flashed before my eyes.  The week preceding this, filled with small thoughts and hidden moments behind my eyes, seemed to come to life before me.  It showed what I wasn't going to get to enjoy.  Not now, maybe not ever.

Certainly not for a very long time.

My best friends giving speeches at my own wedding, holding glasses high in cheers for a toast.  My wedding in general and how it would have looked.  The promise of love and laughter and joy that comes with a union of two souls.  The doubts flashed in my eyes, the hurt and pain and general humiliation of what I went through this year.  The counseling.  The tears.  For the first time I found myself unable to say words that would still give him some sort of dominion in my life.  I find this fact has less and less to do with Derek and more to do with me truly wanting to move on.

We broke up very shortly before the invitation to this wedding arrived so really I've been bracing myself for five months before I'd have to deal with it.  I am a person filled with self-doubt, it is an ugly and underlying feature of Sean Parker.  I know what I am capable of and rarely do I actually let myself down, but the road to fulfillment is plagued with doubt in my abilities and fears in not succeeding.  This is a common theme that is discussed in counseling and something I am actively working toward pushing down.

In my most recent session, she told me what's amazing about me is how even in the face of chaos and disaster in my personal and work life, I still present this polished, comfortable and confident front.  She asked me how it is that I do this, and I couldn't come up with any better of a response but "because I have to."  For me personally it has never been a question of doubting myself; it has always been a question of others doubting me.  And as I have proven in the past, when others doubt me I only work harder to prove them wrong.  It's like that thing with siblings or a best friend... you say shitty things to them and push them around (all in good fun), but the instant someone else does it?  Watch the fuck out.

I figure in my case, presenting a polished front eases doubts in people.  If you look like you have it together, then maybe you do have it together.  This in turn decreases the probing questions from people.  Particularly at a wedding, when they try not to look at you in concern and you thus make it easier for them by repeatedly joking about being single and your love life continuing to glow in the fiery embers of the bomb that went off.  I'm only partially kidding, but if you can't laugh you cry so let's move on.

The wedding was like the final act of my year.  It capped everything off in a tidy conclusion, and when I came home I felt like something had shifted in me.  Not quite yet tangible, but still there.  I'm sure it'll take me this month to put it together but I'm alright with that.  I just need to keep processing.

In the end, the wedding was beautiful and I was fine.  I delivered a heartfelt speech in which I meant every word, and I got to see my brother shining with true happiness.  The corporate jet trip came to my store and we not only passed in flying colors but I continued to develop my professional standing and general relationship with the CEO and other VIP's in my company.  It was arguably the most difficult two weeks of the year, everything building up to it as the sort of "climax" before hopefully calming down through December.  But maybe that's what 2017 has been about?  Dealing with every difficult thing you possibly could and coming out on top?

Start the year (literally New Years Eve) finding out a parent has cancer, discover your fiancé hooked up with someone on Craigslist, the resulting blown apart relationship, changes and stresses of work that lead up to a "do or die" moment, then face the wedding of someone you love very much and try to bury your own shit in the process.  Do most of it on your own while figuring out how to afford your life without any additional income and see what it does to you as a person!

A first snowfall in so many ways feels like the first page of a clean slate, after all.  It buries the past if you let it.  It wasn't a bad thing that I was forced into finding my truth again after losing it so long ago.  It also wasn't so bad to learn how to be lonely again.  Loneliness isn't so bad, really... if anything it allows you to look forward to seeing the people and places that you miss so dearly that much more.  And while I doubted myself in my ability to do all of this, and while I didn't think my breathing would get easier, and while I didn't see any end to the persistent pain and sadness in my heart... I did do it.

I made it through, I persevered, and I proved that most elusive person wrong: me.

Outside all of that, and just for now... it really is just me, a purring little boy-cat pressed against my thigh, a sleeping girl-cat behind my head on the sofa, and the wind as it hits the living room windows and rattles the garlands hanging from the roof.  And of course that fresh snow.

Ciao for now.