I was born "pretty"

PLEASE BE PATIENT. PLEASE BE KIND.

How I'm Finally Finding My Life Worth Living...

From My Dear, Dead Mom.

COMING SOON!

 PLEASE BE PATIENT. PLEASE BE KIND.

There I was, Forrest Gumping my way across America—minus the Nikes, plus a Tesla. Six months, coast to coast, heading everywhere and nowhere, with a grin that said, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m fully committed.”
I probably should’ve been.

Why the sudden escape? Simple: I was down to my last marble—and it was about to roll. After two years as a full-time caregiver for my parents during COVID—Dad being his loving but Commander-in-Chief self, and Mom slowly losing her battle with cancer—I needed out. Staying in that house one more second wasn’t an option. I’d be the guy leaping twelve inches off the edge of the bed. It wouldn’t have been “pretty.”

Growing up gay with a minister dad in an ultra-conservative religion, I spent a lifetime running from myself. But this time, I wasn’t running—I was searching for the part of me I’d lost. Which part? D. All of the above.

And then… plot twist.

On that trip, I started talking to my mom. The dead one. And to my shock, she answered—offering pearls I’d spent decades ignoring. Turns out, those pearls guided me toward the very things I’d been chasing all along: 

peace of mind, joy, and the big one—love. The unconditional kind.

It took me over fifty years and a dead mom to figure it out. 

I’m so damn “pretty,” I can’t stand it.

So, if you’re tired of chasing your own marbles, hop in. I’ll tell you what worked, what didn’t, and what finally made my life worth living.