when it comes to misperceptions

It's hard when you're misunderstood.  

Especially when you write a lot. And by writing a lot, I mean writing blogs specifically. 

I've spent 12 years in this forum, taking random stabs at explaining who I am, what I stand for, and what I believe. Sometimes, it's hidden beneath clever prose, and other times, there's no cleverness at all. The problem with this is that you create a version of yourself for the world to view that maybe isn't reflective of who you truly are. This problem does not reside solely in blogs, of course, because it stretches to the real world as well. Your friends, your family, and your loved ones are all in the audience. 

Not to infer that simply what YOU say is what forms their opinion... they have eyes and ears and watch and learn, just like anyone else. This means in the public forum, there are, at any given moment, dozens of "versions" of you that exist since everyone knows you and understands you in a different way. You are the leader of this pack, hopefully, in knowing yourself the best.

I've always been so worried about what people think of me. When I was younger, it was very specific in regards to my looks and my weight and what I was wearing, as is the case with most young adults, especially gay male young adults. The notion that everyone is watching and criticizing your every move is so stupid but also so overwhelming. 

As I've gotten older, this has transitioned to a fear of what people think of my decisions. That is because it is my decisions that can affect the perception of who I am as an individual to others. Never mind making a rash decision for myself and learning from the consequences, never mind doing something out of character because I thought, "Hey, I got nothin' to lose!" It's best not to rock the boat of what people assume about you and your intentions and your thoughts. After all, they've gotten to know you and understand you and form an opinion of you over the years... who are you to question that in them?

Note the sarcasm there, please, because it's oozing.

I left Facebook in November of 2020 because I felt like people believed a particular notion about me... a happy life told through status updates and photos that only ever showed things in the best light. This isn't a new thing to talk about, really, because that's the poison of social media in general. We build a false reality that mostly doesn't exist as presented, almost solely for other people to feel jealous or entertained by it. Instagram is much the same, but I felt like the narrative was different there, just enough at least for me to keep it. And I don't regret either decision.

But let me tell you about me now and who I am.

Because I'm complicated.

I'm happy for the most part. I'm sad in a lot of others, maybe too many. There is no balance between these emotions, and they're definitely not mutually exclusive of one another.

I'm lonely, truth be told. 

I'm lonely almost all of the time. 

I always have an idea of things I can do around the house, sure... projects I can begin or end or conceive of, if I grant them the time. I view these as distractions. I can read a book, I can watch TV or a movie. I can cook or bake something. I have ideas on what I can be, but I have no idea who or what that person is outside of my house. 

And I'm lonely. 

I visit with my friends, and then I go home to be alone. They stay with their families, be it children or spouses or whatever, when I leave to go back home. Alone. Where I have... projects? Yes, where I have my projects to keep me company. And I have my cats, of course, and while I love my cats... I have my cats.

Recently I've been vocal to friends and family about my intent on shifting things. I'm not gonna go into much detail on how in this blog, because it's premature to do so, but I will in due course. The reveal of said shifting has been met with surprise. Part of that has to do with what is shared on the daily with people, of course, or the lack of what is shared. But it's also because of a misperception about me.

"But aren't you happy doing your thing?" Nope, as illustrated above. 

"What about your writing?" Haven't written anything for a book since February. 

"You have house projects though!" Sure as shit do, but that does not a life make. 

"What about finding someone to date?" Easier said than done, and I don't wanna say or do. 

"Aren't you worried you won't find love?" Is that what would define me? Maybe I'll be single forever, but that's for me to determine, and really, who fuckin' cares?

"I'm worried you'll get hurt." Well, I already am hurt, am hurting, and have been hurt-ed, but that's not enough to stop me. Maybe I'll get the elusive "hurt-est" if that were a thing. What an adventure for me to decide for myself!

There's this preconceived notion that you can't change your mind... or shouldn't change, maybe... because it throws things into question that friends or family believe about you. They've built a perception about who you are as an individual, at least to them, and because they hold that as your truth (whether it is or not), you end up feeling you can only operate within these boundaries.

That's not right or okay, y'know? 

An individual should be allowed to do something totally uncharacteristic because they just... want to. No explanation is needed, no reasoning or justification. "Because I felt like it" should suffice. Unless it's actively harming yourself or another person, of course.

I'll be the first to admit that it's an uncomfortable feeling when someone you know incredibly well comes up to you and says "Hey, I'm gonna do this one thing!" and you in your mind think, "...da fuck? Really?" 

I get that. 

While I try to live my life as honestly as I can with those around me that I hold near and dear, there is an entire world beneath the surface of what you see that I just don't share. I am private about a lot of things, and only certain parties are privy to certain information at any given moment. That's how I've always been. Katie knows almost everything about me that there is to know, but there are certain aspects I keep private because they're just not topics I want to bring up on a Monday afternoon text chain with her. Were she to ask about them, of course, I'd share, but she's much the same as I in that regard. Open book to what you wanna know, but I'm not ALWAYS forthcoming about everything. 

Maybe that comes down to the fear of rejection for being open and transparent? Because I'm not always transparent, I feel like people believe I'm perhaps softer than I truly am. I think people believe that because I am typically an open book, I always share all the things that are happening. 

I'll tell you right now, from the bottom of my heart: I don't.

Katie sent me a poem the other day titled "Fire," and I really liked it:

Remember what you must do
when they undervalue you,
when they think
your softness is your weakness,
when they treat your kindness
like it is their advantage.

You awaken
every dragon,
every wolf,
every monster
that sleeps inside you
and you remind them
what hell looks like
when it wears the skin
of a gentle human.

It's one thing to talk big in a blog about how tough you're gonna be when it comes down to being the person you want to be. I get that. It's another thing to carry these actions out and tell people, "Hey, I'm doing this one thing because I want to," and then mosey along with your day. I get that too. 

I guess the point behind all of this is that it's hard to be forthcoming with people about choices you make in your life or want to make, as it were, when your motivations for making said choices are called into question. I think it's always okay to answer a statement that surprises you with "Oh! Well, that's a new development!" Because hey, it is. 

Then again, you might think it's okay to ask, "How did you reach this conclusion?" and maybe sometimes, it's okay to ask that. Other times, maybe it's not okay. You don't automatically earn the right to know every step of the process. Similarly, you don't own the right to throw wrenches in the cogs if it's a conclusion you disagree with (specifically if the conclusion doesn't actually concern you).

You just need to nod and say, "Okay, well, I'm excited for you and to see how this unfolds." The point I'm trying to make as I've written this blog is that I am going to try to be that person for my friends and family from now on. If I wasn't before, I will do my damnedest to now. My ask is that I receive the same treatment. People are pretty set in their ways by the time they reach their 30s, and as I turn 38 in a couple months... I know who I am. I know what's the best for me, what I'm willing to try, to do, to say, to think... just nod with me and say, "well, that's Sean."

Ciao for now (c:

the thirteenth iteration

More and more, I find that when I write a blog about what the future should hold, it really just... doesn't hold it. 

::take a beat for applause and insert a laugh track here::

Whether that's because I ended up rebelling against my initial plans or I was too lazy to drag them into the light, I dunno. I guess it's essential to have plans of one kind or another, right? Proving (maybe to only yourself) that you still can dream of doing something, of bettering yourself or your situation through a carefully (re: hastily) thought out plan. Choosing to dream instead of being resigned to the facts of life is where I tend to operate most of the time; my mind rests in a world often much different than the one I actually occupy.

A year ago, I was in the cigarette-butt-strewn gutter of life, unsure what in gay hell I was doing and perhaps at the lowest spot I'd ever found myself in as an adult. My health was in serious question, my heart was in peril from an emotional standpoint, and overall I was just miserable. I marveled in the blog at how different it had been a year earlier... and I marvel again today at how I have yo-yo'd so much through all of this. We can explore it all together right now in this, my favorite blog that I get to write every October:

The Twelve Year Anniversary for

Musings of a 

Self-Proclaimed Author

At this moment, I'm sitting in a leather armchair in Boston, Massachusetts, plucking away at my keyboard after casually checking my work e-mail. I've been on vacation for a few days now, visiting Andrew at his current home in Portland, Maine, for a few days before moving onward to Boston. From here, I'll head to Arizona, visiting Katie and her family for another several days of October goodness. The windows are open in the living room, I've got socks on, and though my feet are cold, my heart feels warm. I am warm in the thoughts of all the possibilities that are before me, which feel so much more open and grandiose than they ever have before. 

Maybe it's because I work a remote job and have been out of retail for just a few weeks shy of a year? Maybe it's because I'm finally old enough, and possibly mature enough, to see the components of my life for what they are and keep them in the tidy compartments I feel they should be in? One doesn't necessarily affect the other any longer, and they all don't blur together in an "oh my god, everything is falling apart, and I don't know where to even BEGIN!" kind of way.

Amazing how that can change in just a year, right? Last October, I was only slightly considering a move away from Minnesota, which came to reality in March when I sold my house and purchased a new home in Wisconsin. I was diagnosed with Meniere's disease at the end of last September. I took that like a punch to the gut, but have now determined it was most likely a false diagnosis (unless it wasn't and has just been a dormant issue (I think the tremendous stress and anxiety I was under, coupled with my TMJ from not having a bite guard at night to stop me from grinding my teeth, were responsible for creating the symptoms associated with the disease)). 

And then retail, after 19 long years, finally had completely and utterly burned me out as a human. I was a shell of my current self, so unsure of what I wanted to do... who I wanted to be... who I wanted to be with. 

That has all shifted and rearranged. 

Some of it I will cover in blogs coming up, and others might have to wait a while longer just to see how they play out. I've always been content with the long game, and these things are really no different. No longer do I feel a rush to get something over with or explain it or to seek understanding; I just let it come and unfold as it does. Not that it's always good to operate that way, but I accept it. I became pretty fond this year of explaining myself as "not having the bandwidth" for certain things. While I do sometimes groan at the expression, it's accurate, and it's valid. I need to put limits on the expectations of people around me, and I need to be true to myself and stand up for what I am willing to do and NOT willing to do. It isn't always a success, particularly when it comes to the feelings and emotions of other people who sometimes are jilted by this thought process... but for me, it's part of the learning.

I disappointed some people this year, and I know that. I feel bad about it, also. In the journey of self-discovery... of learning how to not only defend yourself, but to also be proactive in expressing your views/thoughts/opinions/emotions/etc, not everyone gets a win. Not everyone lands their goal or hits it out of the park. Sometimes that sucks. While I intend to be upfront with people nowadays to spare myself the regrets I've always held in staying silent, it isn't always in favor of others. Hell, it's not even in the favor of "me" sometimes.

So what do I want going forward? What do I intend to do differently or change? Recently I've been going back through the blogs and trying to determine why I wrote as much as I did in the past. In recent years, I blamed it on not having anything to talk about. That's true mostly, but it was also because I felt no reason to write about really anything. It took bigger life moments (or obligations to anniversary blogs) to get me to compose something. Looking back, once the Golden Year process was over at the end of 2012, I started writing monthly updates. Sometimes they were a real chore to produce, but looking back I am so happy that I did because I feel that it was when I was at my best. It got me to sit and acknowledge what I was doing for the 30ish days prior, and if there were things I wanted to add or change or remove going forward. They are these beautiful snapshots of who I was and what I was going through and hopefully what I was learning at the time, but I pushed it all aside. When I announced that I was stopping back in 2017, it was because I no longer had the bandwidth for it.

There's that word again.

I had relationship issues with Derek, and I had become a General Manager with Pottery Barn, and the draining of my soul had truly begun in Minneapolis. There wasn't much left to share with anyone else outside of my immediate circle. Seeing as that's not the case anymore, I gradually have gotten to a place where I want to start sharing my life again. Last year I created the "restoring_sean" Instagram account, where I will document my journey through renovating houses and what I learned about the process and myself along the way. I've not posted anything on there yet, but the groundwork is laid out now. All of the photos and videos are collected for my first two houses, and I have 1,800 pictures to go through of my current house so that I can start revealing more about The Estate soon enough as well.

That's what this winter is for, at least! Generating CONTENT again! And it'll get there, I promise; I just need to figure out how and when to do it. But having the intent... having the dream... is what counts. I just need a little poke in the back to do it. 

Until then, ciao (c:

opening at the close, part ii

I remember sitting in my office at the rental house in Crystal, Minnesota, and typing out 'opening at the close' as a blog title back in September of 2016. I thought I was so clever, tying it all together with a comparison to Harry Potter and the message on the Golden Snitch that held one of the Deathly Hallows. Derek and I had moved up from Austin, TX, life was getting great, and I was happy. Cleverness felt authentic and easy at that point, so I used it. 

Yes... I was so very clever. A year later, I would be writing about Derek moving out after our breakup that summer. My cleverness was effectively dashed.

Life ended up being big in Minneapolis, y'know? 

Couple heartbreaks, couple houses, couple jobs. Medical issues for myself and my family, a new nephew and niece from my brother (and honorary nieces and nephews from friends), and, of course, the loss of some loved ones. Looking back at six and a half years condensed into a small portal on my laptop, it feels big. 

It didn't at the time... at the time, it all felt horribly small and mundane. I feel like when I moved to Minnesota, though I was 30, I wasn't an adult. Not yet, at least. It took the heartbreaks of various traumatic forms, the houses and adventures they brought, and the health crap to hone it all into a cohesive experience.

Then again, I didn't leave Minnesota feeling like an "adult," either. I felt old. Rather, I felt older, and perhaps a bit worse for wear. When I packed up the house and turned the car on to leave, the utter and complete emptiness I felt was compounded by the emptiness I felt for the city in general. I never learned my way around Minneapolis, and I maybe went to neighboring St. Paul a handful of times during my tenure. I just didn't care to, and I can't explain why. Maybe a part of me always knew it would be temporary and a time for growth, and maybe part of me just knew none of it would take hold of me. But never really getting your footing sort of leaves you feeling adrift.

Leaving the ranch on moving day.

After retail had come to a close and I started working my remote job as a Technical Writer, it made sense to leave. As luck (and my own planning) would have it, I was able to move back to Wisconsin on March 15th. That might seem like an arbitrary detail, but it was the 26th anniversary of my family moving from California to Wisconsin. And I made a video project you may have heard of called 26 Golden Things, so really... it was kismet. Jonathan and I packed up the U-Haul, the cats, and my car, and we hit the road. 

I didn't look back. And y'know what, I still haven't looked back, seven months on.

As it tends to happen, at the time, I felt like I was turning over to face a bright(er) new future. There was a component to this life choice that felt weird to me, and it was how in this 'new' future, the one where I would move back to a hometown where I had lived for 18 years... and that component was how perhaps this new adventure was a bigger unknown than anything else in recent memory. Maybe because a lot was riding on it? 

Maybe I had attached too much significance to moving back to where the bulk of my friends and family exist. 

Could it be a mistake? Sure. And could I feel like I regressed to some old version of myself, ultimately getting angry at the fact that I did it so willingly? Yeah, sure to that as well. But I doubted the last part.

The Estate

I closed on my new house, here-to-for known as The Estate, a few days after moving home. This blog is not dedicated to introducing you to the Estate, necessarily, but I wanted to show it to you above for just a LITTLE context. Does it still look like that? Nope. Will it change outside (and inside) over the next year? Absolutely. But that picture was the Estate when the keys became mine.

Work on the house started within a few days, and that work didn't come even remotely close to stopping for four whole months. And they were very long months, where I didn't have the time or any desire to just TAKE the time to stop and think about my life, who I was, how I was changing... nothing. They were months spent with my nose down, just doing the work and pushing myself forward more and more. 

I would rise for work at 5am, spend the next 8 hours at my desk working on documentation, and then hurry to the Estate. My parents would be wrapping up whatever tasks they had been on for the day, and then I would take over. I'd stay until it got dark because, for much of this time, there were no ceiling lights installed to work under. Then I would drive home, usually around 8, eat some leftovers for dinner, shower, and go to bed. Then, do it all over again. And then on the weekend, be at the house by 7am and work until, you guessed it, about 8 pm. This went on for months.

It wasn't healthy, and I know that. It was a coping mechanism and a distraction. I'd like to say it was a time for me to break free from some of the spells that bewitched me in the past, and to an extent, it was. To another, more deeply rooted end... I'm still under a few. Some of them, I'd prefer not to be.

Mid-way through the renovations, my siblings and I decided to throw a party for our parents in August. It would be the 50th anniversary of their marriage, and we wanted to commemorate that (seeing as they would never choose to do so themselves (they don't like attention very much)). My brother and his entire clan would be flying up from Texas, my sister and her family would be providing a large portion of the food and drinks, and I would be providing the venue and coordination of all the things. We had family coming in from Indiana and a very old friend coming in from California.

I think to say I bit off more than I could chew would be an understatement, all things considered. By no means did I ever once think I don't want to do this party, but I'd be remiss if I said it was a happy 'lil breeze to get ready for and oh-so-totally-challenge-free. Having carpal tunnel surgery in the middle was not necessarily the anecdote to success, either.

My initial plan with the Estate was to get the BIG stuff done to make it possible for me to move in, and then just take it easy and poke along getting stuff done. This is hilarious in hindsight because I'm just not that person and never have been. For some reason, though, I thought this time I could be. Like a fool. 

Once it was decided that I would be hosting, I barreled forward with a reckless abandon that even shocked me. And the money I spent...

You guys.

The money.

Woof.

In the end I knew the bonus of it was that I would also have a huge portion of my house "done." So yeah... you essentially kill yourself getting it ready to roll in an attempt to impress your friends and family, and then YOU get to enjoy it afterward. 

I was getting such a tremendous amount of help from my parents, the whole way, from physical labor to the use of their tools to their generous donations of building materials, and allllll the while, I had to keep it a secret as to why I was moving forward with such ferocity. For the things I needed help from my dad on (very specifically for the party (leaving out a ton of his other contributions, by the way) I needed the kitchen cabinets built for the refrigerator and oven wall). I had to be gentle in how pushy I was because there should not have been an obvious reason as to why I wanted this wrapped up. Here's the briefest of brief previews below because, as I said, this blog is not about the Estate. Stop asking, geeze!

Also, this was only at the time; it has been finished since then (trim pieces connecting it to the ceiling, etc).

Kitchen changes

When the week of celebrations with family began, I picked up my best friend Katie from the airport that Monday. She would be the initial distraction (and my helper) ahead of the party. Because certainly, we wouldn't be planning anything for my parents if I had company. A couple days later, I drove to Indiana to gather my aunt Sally, and then dropped her off with my parents. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

Then, that evening, they came to my house for dinner and found my brother, his family, and the granddaughter they had not yet met. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

A couple days later, we had our big celebration, which also revealed my mom's friend from high school (our California traveler) and my dad's cousin (another Indiana traveler). 

That shocked the shit out of them.

Notice the theme of shock here.

We pulled it all off pretty astoundingly well, all things considered. They had a few suspicions along the way, but as those appeared, I squished them flat. Do I like to lie? No, and as a general rule of thumb, I always tell the truth. That doesn't mean I can't lie, hahaha, or can't lie well when I choose to do so.

This event was meant to be the culmination of my moving home. It would be the crowning achievement of all the extraordinarily hard work, tying it up with a pretty bow. Not to say I wouldn't continue working on the Estate afterward, or that I wouldn't be working on myself anymore either... but it was the first real milestone of a marker. When the dust from that week settled, the last planes had departed, and the rain clouds filling the sky the latter part of the weekend started to clear away, I could not help but feel immense gratitude. 

I am grateful for the people who showed up for me... be it by helping me along my path, helping with the house, or helping to make the anniversary party so special. It was a labor of love that created so much joy for two very, very special people who deserve it so much.

Right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop that I walked to, a couple blocks from my house, and I feel like I can breathe again. The pain in my hand has subsided from not working on the house for a couple weeks. The air has a certain crispness to it that is a certain and sure reminder of fall being here, and the sun is shining on the leaves, changing from green to yellow to rust.

There aren't many days where I feel purely and simply "happy," but today is one of them. 

I really like that about today.

Katie asked me the other day if I was happy that I moved home, and the question caught me off guard. I couldn't answer. I guess now, as I sit and think about it, I still can't formulate a concrete answer. On the surface, I am happy that I came back, yes. That part hasn't changed. On a deeper level, there's uncertainty around my decision and whether moving back was the right way forward in life. It'll take a lot longer for me to unravel that mystery. But at the very least, of all things, I am so happy to be near my parents and to have had the last several months working alongside them so much and getting to know them so well. 

That part of the equation cannot be measured because it's priceless. 

I'm happy to be near my sister and her family, and to be so close to a few of my best friends. I'm also happy living in the Estate.

The answer I can provide with complete certainty is that I finally feel like Minnesota is in my past. It brought me some amazing friends, it brought me some terrific laughter, and that is the space I will allow it to occupy in my heart. Beyond that, I must draw the covers and put it to bed. I remember a quote I've always loved: "You can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one."

One book closes and another is now open. Ciao for now (c: