Each week I write a heartfelt (and sometimes raw) love letter to individuals and couples who are seeking to have healthy dialogues around open relationships, boundaries, communication, polyamory and more. I'd love to send them to you too.
I open up about what's really going on: struggles and successes, loves and losses, the art that delights me, the resources that are supporting me, plus words of encouragement and a reminder that we are in this together.
Too often we feel like "I'm the only one going through this." Whether "this" is being queer, struggling with addiction, ending a relationship, opening up a relationship, unpacking mental health, or something else... let me remind you: you're not.
So I'm sharing my story—and the stories of my friends and folks that I work with—that we may see ourselves reflected back in each others stories—and have someone to turn to with questions or when we need reassurance.
If this feels like somewhere you’d love to hang out, simply share your email in the box below to join. If you’d like to dig through a selection of the archives, you’ll find that below as well.
When you ask someone how they’re doing, more often than not you get some variation of “good,” “ok,” or “not so good” (aka bad). We’ve collapsed the whole range of human experience to “good,” “indifferent,” and “bad.” But is that helpful?
Over the past decade of being in relationship and in the past few years of working with individual and group relationship coaching clients, I’ve found that there’s really so much as “good” or “bad” feelings… just the feelings we’re feeling (though sometimes we enjoy some of those feelings more than others). Regardless of how we feel, every feeling can teach us something useful. And getting really clear on how exactly we feel can help us understand ourselves better and in turn be more effective at getting our needs met and ultimately having more fulfilling relationships and a more fulfilling life.
I wrote this as part of Queer Theology’s 2015 Synchroblog on Sex & Bodies. Check out all the entries here.
I learned about agape, God’s self-sacrificing love from a hookup. Actually, a few hookups. Actually, a lot of hookups. I could count, but we might be here awhile. I think a better use of our time would be for me to share what I learned. Because there’s something valuable for you to learn from promiscuity.
When I was a kid, gay couples could not get married in any state in the U.S.. Not in California, not in Massachusetts, not anywhere. I got in a fight with my parents about being gay, it ended with me saying that I wasn’t sure if they’d come to my wedding one day and that that feeling sucked. My mom’s reply was,
“I don’t know why gay people want to get married, no one expects them to.”
Fifty years ago—heck, twenty years ago—nationwide gay marriage in the United States was an impossible dream. It was so impossible, not many people dared to dream it. When I traveled through upstate New York in 2007—2007!—to campaign for marriage equality, more than a few folks thought I was nuts. Overly political. Wasting my time.
What do you love to do? Like, that thing you would do if you had a free morning, a day off work, an open weekend, or no commitments at all for a few months. What’s that thing you would do if you were sure that you wouldn’t fail (or look silly along the way)?
It’s 8:15 a.m.. I walk out of my bedroom and into the living room where the sun is already spilling through the double-windows, across our teal and grey speckled rug and on to the hardwood floor. Despite what you may have read about “creatives” on the Internet, we don’t all get up before the sun rises to go for a 5-mile run followed by a big cool glass of fresh-pressed green juice.