33.

I woke up 33 today.  Last night I had dinner with friends, and we said it would be a quiet night.  After too many bottles of wine, ‘Well, where to next?” You should never ask me that question, “Well, I turn 33 at midnight, we could go to Jakes.”  “Jakes only seems appropriate…” Needless to say I woke up a little late today, to Facebook notifications, and a phone flooded with kind texts and missed calls.  Here’s how I feel about 33…

I never planned past 30.  When I was in my twenties I gave myself goals.  I knew what I wanted to get out of my twenties.  I wanted to have a career –I wanted to feel like I was on a path and that I at least felt like I was successful.  I wanted to live in the city and experience everything that makes this city so special.  I wanted it to feel like home.  I wanted to have a diverse group of people around me.  I wanted to be around people that would challenge me, and inspire me, and help me grow. Above all, I wanted to have stories to tell.  I didn’t want to ever look back on my twenties and feel like I didn’t do enough.  I did enough.  I accomplished all these things.  I was terrified to turn 30 because I didn’t know what the next chapter was.

My friends said your thirties are your best years, and they were right.  What do I want though for this period of my life, because I know one day I’ll wake up, and I’ll be like… ‘Fuck, I’m 40… now what?’  I haven’t travelled as much as I would like.  I want to finish what I started.  I want to travel more.  I want to work on the things that I’m really passionate about.  I want to write more, and I want to continue doing improv.  I need to find an adult apartment –although I do love my frat pad.  I swear this apartment needs to be the set of a sitcom one day.  In my thirties I want to be healthier.  I need to stop smoking.  I want to be better at my job –I’m not bad at my job, but I know I can be better.  I can push myself.  I want to start a t-shirt line.  I don’t know why, but I do.  It’s in the works.  By 40 I want to work for myself.  I want to find a way to support myself doing something I love –it can’t feel like ‘work’ forever.  These are tangible things.  These aren’t things I’ll tell myself I want to do.. these are things I will do. 

I’m not terrified any more.  My thirties are good.  My horoscope today was the following…

If You Were Born Today, December 22:

You are an emotional person who is very connected to your past. You are exceptionally giving and supportive, sometimes to the point of martyrdom! You have to try not to feel resentful for all that you do for others by keeping this trait in balance. You would make an excellent counselor. Your love life is likely very changeful. You are extremely hard-working and few can do the job as well as you. Sometimes you are impatient with others who don’t seem to have the same work ethic as you, but you must understand that few do! You can be a perfectionist. You are a wonderful combination of conservative and creative or inspired.

This year is a period of constructive accomplishment. You are practical and realistic, and your judgment is especially sound. You also derive much satisfaction from practical achievement. It would behoove you to identify and focus on finding pleasure in the simple things that make you happy.

Your passions and enthusiasm run high, and the trick is to channel this extra energy constructively, which is easier than usual. In fact, you possess more self-discipline than usual. The period ahead is one of greater self-understanding, enterprise, and engaging projects. You easily find extra energy to pour into your pursuits, although you may be placing a lot of pressure on yourself to succeed at times this year. Pacing yourself will be important to stay healthy and happy. Business and ideas are both practical and innovative.

If you know me at all, and I’m guessing you do.  All of that is true.  I don’t know how much to read into horoscopes, but if it is true… well, it’ll be an interesting year.   Tonight, my friends are having a small group of us over for dinner.  We’ll have wine, and we’ll laugh, and I’ll look around that table and be grateful that I am here… at 33…. With so much left to do… 

Thanks.

It’s that time of year.  All the holiday parties are happening, and added to that I know a lot of December birthdays.  Including my own.  Needless to say, this past weekend I threw myself a birthday party.  I’ve done this party every year for the last eight, I believe.  It’s so dumb.  Who throws a birthday party for themselves for turning 33?  I do.  I make myself feel better about it by sprinkling in some Christmas music and saying it’s also a “holiday party.”  Don’t be fooled… it’s not.  I just like to pretend I’m not one of those people that cares about birthdays.  Don’t be fooled… I do.  Admitting you have a problem is the first step? I also just like any reason to convince all my friends to hang out with me.  Really, that should read pressure them to hang out with me. 

The first birthday party I threw for myself was all those years ago on University Lane when I moved into my first apartment.  I don’t remember the details in their entirety, but I’m sure my sister was pouring shots, Dan probably went to pick up pizza at 2am, and Christy was probably lighting shit on fire.  No one has become more mature since.  I’m ok with that. 

Every year I stand in a room full of people and I think about how lucky I am.  These people that I’m fortunate enough to call my family and friends, and these people that always show up.   The week before Christmas, the weather is always awful, and yet so many show up.  This group of really diverse, smart, kind, and funny people that I’m so lucky to have in my life.  My friend Kayla even came in drag.  I asked her to show-up in drag, at first she thought I was kidding. I wasn’t.  I can barely muster up the straight to not look homeless on a daily bases, so I can really appreciate her taking the time to show-up in drag.  All of these people with different stories, and different backgrounds and I have been fortunate enough to have them all in my life. 

Anyway, I say all this to say thanks.  Thank you to everyone that showed up.  I know some couldn’t make it, and that’s ok too.  Next year.  Because, you know, everyone celebrates turning 34 too.  Regardless, ahead of the holiday season, every year it’s a good reminder to me of how grateful I am for all of you.  We live in this messy, sometimes fucked up world, and yet we all found each other.  That’s a really crazy thing for me to sometimes grasp.  Not only that we found each other, but that over time we have built these friendships, and we’ve shared stories, and given each other advice, and we have grown together.  I am a better person because of those experiences that we have shared together.   My birthday wasn’t even this weekend, but on Thursday I turn 33.   I’ll think about all the things I’ve accomplished, and probably a lot about the things I haven’t accomplished, and at some point I’ll remind myself…  Henry, you’re ok, and you have all these people that really care about you. You are going to be just fine… Thanks again… with love… henry.

Balance.

In a cab ride last weekend, ‘I don’t know, I just don’t understand how people become so consumed with their relationships they stop seeing and talking to their friends. I just could never be that person.’  Let me be very clear before I dive into this, I am not being critical when I say that.  I believe you have to do what’s best for you and your relationship, and I can respect you for that.  Do what feels right.  What I am saying, is that I literally can’t wrap my head around how one does that.  I am not capable.  I cannot, and will not, abandon the ship.  This is the reason why…

I hate being alone.  I need people around me.  Strangers will do.  When I can’t find anyone to hang out with me I’ll joke that I have no friends.  That could not be further from the truth.  I have a lot of friends.  In fact, often times it’s difficult to find time to see all of them. My social calendar is a mess.  I like it that way. 

Monday morning, I text my friends last minute, asking if they would dog sit for me while I’m away for work.  Without any hesitation they responded yes.  A few years back the electricity went out in my apartment, and I was at home with Billie.  I called my friend Allison, ‘the electricity is out and I don’t know what to do.’  ‘Ok, just come over we’re just home watching TV. Stay as long as you need to.’ When I lived in the suburbs for a year I basically lived on Amy’s couch –she only complained once and it was a fair complaint.  My friends and I are like a small tribe, and we all do our part to make our group a little better.  

I’ll call Amy on a Monday morning, ‘Wait, get this… I’m the absolute worst.’  She will listen, and she will remind me I’m fine.  She will tell me, ‘Eh it’s a learning experience, babe, it’s fine.’  I will believe her, whether it’s true or not.  My friend Amanda came by last week, we had a few, “this is our last glass of wine,” moments, before finally opening up the shitty bottle.  That wine was so shitty it really was our last glass.  I told her a story followed by, ‘I really shouldn’t have done that.’  She laughed, ‘well, probably not, but what are you going to do now.’  She reminded me it wasn’t really my problem, and I wasn’t necessarily in the wrong.  Perspective.  Over the weekend I was chatting about my improv show last week, and my friend reminded me I’m being coy when I try to not acknowledge how much I love improv and writing.  I reminded her I was turning 33 in a few weeks.  The ship has sailed.  ‘You’re not that old Henry, I was your age when I moved to Chicago with no friends or family here. It’s not to late for you. Find what you love and do it.’

This is why I can’t abandon the ship.  I cannot walk away.  I will not find one person that could replace all the other people in my life.  That is not possible.  I will never be that person that starts dating someone and just dips out on everyone else, or stops showing up. I need my friends to remind me of who I am when I am lost. I need to know, that if I fall apart someone who knows how to put me back together will be there. Although, maybe I’m wrong and I’ll just be single forever… but like, all my weekends for December are already really busy with birthday and holiday parties, and I’m going to all of them. On the bright side, if you want to date me you get to meet some really great people. 

Thirsty.

I don’t know how to date, or so I’m told.  Last week I asked my friend to grab a drink. He replied, ‘I can’t I have a date.’  Of course I need to know everything -with who?  What are you guys going to do?  What time? How did you meet? ‘You don’t know him.  Going to get drinks in Boystown.’  I had to phone a friend… is getting drinks in a loud gay bar considered a date? ‘Yeah, that’s the new thing.’  Wait… doesn’t anyone ask someone out to dinner or something?  ‘No, if you do that now it looks thirsty.’ Wait, what?  When did that happen?  I missed the memo.  Listen, I’m not against just getting a drink, but like at a busy gay bar seems a bit much.  Of course, my immediate thought was, I always ask if someone wants to get dinner for a first date.  Oh my god do I look like a weirdo?

Maybe I’m not good at dating.  I’m not the let’s grab a drink a guy.  I’m the let’s grab dinner, or go to the zoo, or go to a comedy show or to see a band kind of guy.  At some point though, this became too much, I guess.  I feel like I’m terrible at first dates anyway.  I talk too much.  I ask too many questions.  Those things can’t be accomplished at a loud bar.  If I go out with someone, some thing about you genuinely interested me.  I want to know you’re story.  I want to be in an environment that’s conducive to accomplishing that.   

I feel like I should start handing out surveys at the end of first dates.  On a scale of one to ten… How was your experience? Would you recommend this tour to a friend?  How likely are you to return?  Dating is exhausting, which is why I don’t do it often.  I can tell quickly if someone is worth the effort.  I know what I need.  I know if it’s a match.  I have a type.  Less about looks, and more about personality and life experiences.  I can tell if there’s a chance we will work.  I vet pretty thoroughly.  Except there was this one time I went out with someone and I’m SURE he was on drugs.  Blank stares all night.  Ok, and no joke, I wrote this on a flight home, and after I landed I turned on my phone and just guess who messaged me on Tinder.  What are the odds?  His profile reads, “I’m a very unique person.”  To say the least…

Anyway, the moral of this story is, I’m going to continue to operate the same way.  I will not change.  Call it old fashioned?  I’ll never consider going to a crowded bar in Boystown a date, or any crowded bar for that matter.  I guess I’m going to just stay a weirdo.  I’ll continue to ask for dinner, or coffee, even at the risk of looking “thirsty.”  I’ll leave you with this, I have a super cute list of fun date ideas and restaurants in Chicago.  Send your boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife to me and I’ll share that list with them.  You’ll thank me later.

 

Almost ten years later.

Last week, I walked into the lobby of the building I walked into almost ten years ago.  I was 23, and I was interviewing for my first full-time job post college graduation.  It was January, it was freezing out, and I was still sweating profusely.  I’m sure I was dressed in some poor fitting suit –a kid trying to play a grown-up, with my resume in a folder, and notepad and a pen.  My list of questions written out –always ask questions at the end of your interview.  I checked in with security, and went up to the 22nd floor, and walked through the same doors I walked into for the first time all those years ago.  The office looks different, but it’s the same people… and most importantly, it feels the same.  This is a story about where it all started, for me…

I was 23 and fresh out of college.  I had worked a few internships, and I had jobs all through college in retail, but this was different.  It was my first real job, with a consistent paycheck, health insurance, and essentially the first time I felt like an adult.  The first time I worked in an environment in which I was treated like an adult. When I started that job I had no idea what to expect.  I was a communications major, and I knew nothing about advertising sales, but they hired me anyway.  They took a chance on me.  I’m a quick learner, and before you knew it I was moving without training wheels. 

I often times think about that job, and what it gave me at 23.  A couple of weeks after I started I was sitting at my desk working on an account that was a fucking nightmare, and that’s being generous.  I was e-mailing back and forth with the client, and at one point the email I wrote came off with a little too much attitude.  My co-worker shot out of her office, ‘I just saw your e-mail.  I know this is frustrating, and it’s late, but you can’t send e-mails like that.  They have a lot of options on where they can spend their money.’  Nine years later… customer service is key.  It stuck.  I never again shot off an email like that.  This job set the groundwork for who I became, and how I developed.  Through the years this team, that I left a long time ago, has continued to be supportive.

I’ve been fortunate.  I’ve always worked for, and with, great people, and they’ve helped me develop and grow.  They have been honest with me, and that has made me a better person professionally.  Many of the people I’ve worked with have become friends, and so they have helped me grow personally as well.  Just yesterday, a Facebook status from years ago popped up, and I knew immediately who said it.  I had flash backs to sitting in a cubicle having a shitty day, but still finding a reason to laugh.  There’s always a reason to laugh.  If you’re lucky, like I’ve been, you find some great people to laugh with…

Improv.

I wanted to take improv classes for a while.  I didn’t have the guts to do it.  In June of 2015 I looked at Second City’s website to see what the schedule looked like. I decided the Friday evening classes made sense.  I did not sign-up.  When the first day of class came around, I told myself I would just show up, sign-up day of, and see if it was a fit.  I went to work that day, and I almost convinced myself not to do it, but I had already told friends I was going to. It was too late to back out –I am not the person to not live up to doing the things I say I will do.  I couldn’t back out.  At 5:30pm I left my office, and headed to Second City.  I have been doing improv ever since. 

When I was a kid, my cousins and I would put these variety shows together for our parents.  We would design sets and we would assign people roles.  We would create these shows, and as the older ones I just remember giving our selves the best roles.  We looked at our younger siblings and cousins, ‘Ok, you can be the camera person.’  I would stay up late and watch The Tonight Show and repeat Jay Leno’s jokes, or make up my own stupid kid jokes and tell them to my family members when we were together.  Even as a kid I wanted to make people laugh.  I remember one time I nailed this stupid joke, and my aunt laughed so hard and said, ‘Oh you’re going to be the next Jay Leno.’  Ok, she was clearly wrong, but the point is, I believed her.  From a very early age I thought I could be funny… I can make you laugh.  I guess even as I child I abided by the rule, if you think you can, then you can. 

When I lost my job last year I thought I would really devote myself to improv and writing, and see where the path led.  The world of improv is so crowded.  There are so many performers.  It’s over saturated.  I’m not that great at it –I’m just surrounded by great performers.  I didn’t want to be a starving artist, but I wanted to continue to perform for fun.  That’s what I’m doing these days.

I finished the first part of the Second City improv program in May of this year.  We have done a few shows since.  The last two months we have been putting together a new show, based on a murder mystery at a Christmas party.  I know, it sounds weird, but trust me it works.  The format is interesting, and the cast is good.  Friday is opening night, as a string of texts go back and forth on my phone about memorizing lines and rehearsals.  I am underprepared as usual.  I have five lines, maybe less, and only one of those lines memorized.  Probably best I stuck to my day job.

Anyway, if you want to come see the show, the link is below for tickets.  Friday night is sold out, and so is the second show, but come December 30th!  Again, I’m not that great, but my friends are amazing.  They make me laugh when they’re on stage, but also just in real life.   I’ll keep trucking along here, watching them grow, hoping one day just to be in their entourage… guys, I’m so fun to hang out with and I’ll help you seal all those endorsement deals! Promise! 

http://www.secondcity.com/shows/chicago/a-christmas-peril/

About Traveling.

I realized this week my passport has two stamps.  I had to get a new one two years ago when I went to Australia.  I haven’t travelled much since I got it.  My old passport was filled.  When I graduated high school in 2002 my parents gave me some money they had saved up for me, ‘You can do whatever you want with this money.’  I was 18 and I had never left the country, so I’m not really sure why I wanted to travel, but I did.  Between 18 and 30 I had been to Europe twice, South America, and Central America. I am obsessed with traveling.  When I turned 30 my mom said her and I could take a trip together and asked where I would want to go. ‘South Africa.’  She looked me in the eye. ‘No. Pick again.’  She isn’t as adventurous as I am, ‘Ok, fine.  Australia.’  She agreed, and off we went.

 I’m easy to travel with, but not the best tourist.  I’ve been to Paris twice and have never gone up to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  I would rather sit in the park eating gelato watching parents play with their kids.  I’ll wander down random streets, and into little boutiques and eat food off street vendors.  I’ll be annoyed with long lines and be disinterested in seeing tourist attractions.  I’ll snap a picture of Notre Dame, and then I’ll move on.  In Australia I spent a day in Melbourne walking around taking in street art.  

 I was in Barcelona with Amanda, and the Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia church was too far from where we were staying.  I was not interested in the hassle of going to see it.  Instead we walked into this church that was on the verge of collapse.  It looked unsafe.  ‘Let’s check this out.’  We walked in, and realized they still held regular services.  We lit candles and as we were getting ready to leave noticed a gentleman standing in a corner, as we walked past he asked if we wanted to go to the roof of the church.  We made it to the roof, and there was all of Barcelona.  We were up there, with two other people, and there right in front of us was this beautiful city.  That was one of the best experiences I had in Barcelona. 

 This last week in Cabo, I made all the friends.  I went to the bar by myself, and as I scanned the crowd I noticed these two girls.  They looked like the type of girls I would be friends with.  I went up to them, and introduced myself… my desperate plea… be friends with me I think we’ll get along.  I was right. The last day they were there I ran into them at breakfast.  We talked about the last two nights we spent together, about them coming to Chicago and me coming to Dallas.  I have no boundaries when it comes to people.  I will walk right up to you in a different country and I will try to convince you I’m not a creep.  I want to be friends. 

 I love traveling.  I want to see the world.  I want to experience it.  In the movie ‘Lost in Translation,’ there’s a line toward the end, and Scarlet Johansson’s says, ‘Let’s never come here again because it could never be as much fun.’  That’s what traveling is for me, about those experiences you share with someone else.  They cannot be replicated.  I’m sure I’ve made myself sound super appealing to travel with, but if you want to sit in parks, and venture off the beaten path, and meet random people that I’ll try to convince to be friends with me than you should reach out.  I need a travel buddy…  Asia and Africa are on my to do list. 

 

With Thanks.

It’s Thanksgiving today, and I’m on a flight back to Chicago from Cabo, Mexico.  I spent a week there with my family.  In June or July my mom asked my sister and I if it would be a good idea to go on a family vacation since my dad was turning 60 this year.  A fully paid all-inclusive vacation?  Why would you even ask?  We obviously agreed it was a great idea.  That trip finally came to fruition this week.  Today, I scanned Facebook, and everyone is posting about what they’re thankful for… family, friends, dogs, and the list can go on and on.  I’m thankful for all those things too, but I’m also really thankful for this week with my parents.  This is a story about my parents…

I had a realization this last week while we were in Cabo.  My dad is starting to look more like my grandfather, and my mom like her mother.  We are all getting older, except, I do not feel older.  I do not feel like an adult.  I have this conversation a lot with my friends, and I can willfully acknowledge how much I still depend on my parents at 32 going on 33.  Back in August, I got a flat tire as I was leaving my parents house, ’Dad, what do I do?’ ‘Well, you can just put the spare on and then take it somewhere in the morning.’  Silence.  My dad recognizing that was not the same idea I had, ‘Or you could leave the car with us, and I’ll take it to get fixed in the morning.  Just take my car tonight.’  I am helpless sometimes.  I should not be this way at 32.

I’m not the best son.  My mom will remind me of that.  I don’t call enough; I don’t make time to visit.  I seem distant sometimes.  She becomes concerned.  She knows when something is wrong –always.  She’ll call, ‘Is everything ok?’  She will calm me down, unknowingly.  She will tell me everything is going to be ok.  I believe her.  A few months ago I was going through a lot –I would call her, and she would listen, and offer advice when she felt appropriate.  She would assure me, ‘this is just a phase.  It isn’t the rest of your life.’  Her and I have a connection. 

This week in Cabo, my 60 year old father went tubing and parasailing, and my mother who doesn’t know how to swim and is terrified of large bodies of water went on more boats then she’s probably been on her entire life.   I was proud of them.  I’m really lucky to have them around.  I know that not everyone is that fortunate.  Not only do I have them around, but they want to be involved.  They care.  They want to spend time with their kids, and they still want to help.  I see them with new eyes these days though –they’re getting older.  They’re slowing down, and I have to recognize that.  I was complaining about something a few weeks ago to a friend, ‘Henry, you’re so lucky to have such great parents.  Stop complaining.  I would give anything for one more day with my parents.’  She is right. 

So, I’m thankful for this week.  I’m thankful I had the opportunity to spend a week with them.  I’m thankful they are still here.  I’m thankful they are still so willing to be active. They haven’t given up.  They want to keep up.  I’m thankful they have always been there –they have dealt with my shit.  They are good people, and their only goal in life has been to give their children a life better then the one they knew.  They have accomplished that… and for that I am thankful.  I’m unsure if my mother has found this little project of mine –I know my dad hasn’t, he’s just really concerned with Snapchat right now.  If she has though… thank you two for this week.  I’ll try to call more, and I’ll try to be present.  I know I’m all over the place, but I’m here… always.  Hope everyone had a great day.  With love and gratitude from somewhere above America….

Kids.

I’m on vacation with my family this week.  We’re staying at this resort, which surprisingly isn’t overwhelming in the kinds of groups that are here.  It’s a mix of families, older couples, younger couples and thankfully not too many trashy American tourists.  However, there was someone walking around with a hat that read, ‘I Love Titties and Beer.’  I hate him.  Not the point though… last night we went to see the nightly show they do here.  We got there a little early and they were doing the kids portion of the show.  I sat down at the table my parents were at.  I ordered a drink, and just as the waiter walked away this little kid came and stood right next to me.  He stared at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at me with this confused look on his face.  He stood there for a while, and after a few minutes this guy in front of us asked if I wanted their extra tickets for him.  They thought he was my son. 

Today we went to the beach a little further away from where we are staying.  The folks there seemed like locals.  Parents with their kids –holding on to them as they moved through the ocean.  These little people so enthralled in the world around them.  I’m really good with kids.  I’m a good babysitter.  I used to babysit for my cousin, and every time I would leave I would think, ‘I could do this. I could totally be a good dad.’  I never really thought about being a parent in my 20s.  I honestly wasn’t great at managing my own life, let alone a child’s.  In my 20s I thought about how great it would be to just have a life filled with friends and family, and travelling, and building a successful career.  I wanted to be Oprah.  Ok… before anyone says you can do all those things… you’re wrong.  You can’t do them to the same degree when you have a child. You have to give-up some things. You have to sacrifice.  It’s just reality.

My 30s have made me a different person.  I no longer want to be Oprah.  The day of the Cubs parade I went to lunch with my neighbor and her newborn son.  Toward the end of dinner I offered to hold him.  He had that smell all newborns have.  He didn’t fuss too much, and at the end of lunch as I handed him back to his mom I couldn’t help but think, ‘I want a baby.’  I want to be a dad one day.  I’m not ready right now, and I don’t know if I want to do it alone, but I could if I had to.  I keep telling people I’m going to adopt, and it’s the same response every time… right, you’re just going to change your life completely and go from having social obligations every night to having to take care of a child… you barely even take care of your dog –she’s with your parents more often then she’s with you.   They’re right.  It seems ridiculous –perhaps unfeasible.  However, as I grow into my 30s it seems more and more appealing. I spent this week with my parents.  I see them getting older.  If I did have a kid(s) I couldn’t do it without their help.  It takes a village. 

This is a random post.  I realize that.  Something about being here this week, with all these families.  Young parents with their kids.  I could be that one day, or at least I hope.  I’d be a good a dad.  Maybe that’s my new 10-year plan. 

This Is Not My Problem.

I text a friend on Monday, ‘Do you have five minutes to chat?’  He called me two minutes later.  I have a problem.  I insert myself into situations I shouldn’t.  I get overly involved.  I need people to talk me down. ‘Henry, don’t get involved.  This is not your issue.’  You have to let people work it out.  I’m not sure where this stems from, or why I care, but I do.  I take responsibility for things or situations that are not my responsibility.   I have no idea where this compulsion comes from.  It’s a problem.  When others would run –I will stay. In fact, I’ll jump right into the deep end of the pool.  I’m not a therapist or life coach… I just play one on TV.  That’s what I feel like.  There’s a line though, and I’m blind to it.

Friday night, another one of my friends posted something on social media.  I was caught off guard.  Why would you post that?  What would make you think that’s ok?  It’s completely inappropriate.  You’re better then that.  I saw him out, and yelled, ‘Take it down right now.’  He refused, but deleted the next morning, then proceeded to repost it the next night.  Again, I flew into parent mode… I had to remind myself, ‘Henry, this is not yours to fix.’  My friend leaned over, ‘This is just who he is, he’s not going to change you have to let it go.’ He was right.  I have to let things go.

I’m learning to get involved less, or at least I’m trying to.  I’m sure I make decisions on a daily basis that people don’t agree with.  They won’t change me, and I probably won’t change anyone else.  Life isn’t based on a screenplay –I can’t change the story or the characters.  It’ll play itself out the way it’s supposed to.  I need to learn to be in the audience –sit there, and shut up.  The thing is, this all stems from a good place.  I want to help.  I want to be a good friend.  Just because I think something is the right thing to do though doesn’t make it so.  People have to be in charge of their own destinies.  They have to be allowed the opportunity to decide not only who they want to be in the world, but also how they want to be perceived.  If you’re a good friend, you’ll accept them for who they are regardless of the things they do.    

I interrupt things based on my experiences, but the fact is that life is different for everyone.  I asked my friend, ‘So, I should keep my mouth shut?  I’ll stay out of it.’ I am not the messenger, nor should I try to be.  I’m sure this is something I’ll continue to struggle with.  Look on the bright side though, if you’re ever in a crisis I will be there.  I will want to help.  I will listen, and I’ll offer advice -probably too much advice.  Inside my head I’ll be thinking –we can fix this, but really I’ll be thinking, ‘How can I fix this?’  Let’s be honest, I have my own shit to figure out… maybe I should be focusing on that.  

About Forgiveness.

I stopped by DePaul today.  I graduated college in 2006.  Ten years ago.  Everyone on campus looks so young, and ten years later I look like either the cool professor, or the guy that just never wants to grow up.  I stopped in to visit my friend Rikki who still works there.  I met Rikki 14 years ago when I was a freshman and had an internship in the graduate admissions department.  I was 19, and they stuck me in the closet, called it an office, and had me stuffing envelopes.  I eventually got out of all the closets I was in.  That first day Rikki stuck her head in, ‘Who are you?’  Um, I’m 19, hating this job, and socially awkward, however, I just replied with, ‘Hi, I’m Henry.’  We have been friends ever since.  This isn’t another story about friendship.  This is a story about forgiveness…

Our friend Kim got married in 2009, and Rikki and myself had both been invited.  At that same time Rikki was going through a divorce.  She had just moved back from Vegas for a job, and when things were seemingly well it all fell apart.  Life does that sometimes, and it sucks.  As the wedding neared Rikki reached out, ‘I am not going to the reception, but I want to be at the ceremony.  I need you there for emotional support.  Please come.’  I said I would.  When Kim’s wedding day came I woke up late, I went for a run, and before you knew it I lost track of time.  I didn’t make it to the ceremony.  Rikki sent me a lengthy text –she was upset with me, and understandably so. I never even replied to the text. I was 26… I was irresponsible and insensitive, and I owed her better then just ignoring that text. 

Rikki and I didn’t talk for two years. She’s stubborn, and in this case she was right to be.  Two years later our friend Ed got engaged and I knew she would be at the wedding.  I was two years older, and I knew better… I knew I had to apologize for that 26-year-old version of me that was an insensitive jerk.  I sent Rikki the below e-mail on July 15th, 2011…

“OK, I was going to send flowers. Life, It gets in the way. You'll be at Eds tonight and I don't want it to be awkward. I wanted to say sorry. Two years ago, I wasn't equipped to deal with the anger, so I didn’t. Emotionally insensitive boy, I know.  You know at one time it was always you and I…I miss that. And maybe I burned that bridge, but I wanted you to know I never stopped loving you. I think about you often.  I remember when you left for Vegas…Crushed. Cause you got me, and I got you.
Here we are two years later… silence. I just didn’t want you to hate me tonight, cause I am sorry that things went the way they did…my fault.  Just a kid trying to not deal with the disappoint I inflicted.

Love you.  I hope we some how find a way to grow past” 

Rikki did forgive me, and that wedding was a lot of fun. I still try to see Rikki as often as possible.  Adult life is busy.  The point of this story is that Rikki forgave me.  If I had I reached out right after she would have forgiven me than.  We wouldn’t have wasted two years not talking.  I regret not apologizing earlier.  She’s one of my oldest friends –she knows my story.  I see her and she doesn’t see me.  She see’s over ten years of me –she has seen me grow from that awkward kid sitting in a closet to who I am today.  I can still be awkward some times, but no closets involved.  We have a story.

 Friendships take work, and I believe a big part of that is forgiveness.  We’re going to screw up along the way, and we’re going to make mistakes, but, in the same way we have to learn to forgive ourselves, we have to forgive others as well. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of stupid shit I have done that my friends have forgiven me for.  All I know, is that years down the road, I want to know that those people are still there.  The people that can see the whole picture.  We’ll all continue to grow, and we’ll meet new people along the way… but history books are important for a reason.  They’ll be the ones that remind us not to repeat the same mistakes.  They’ll remind us of who we used to be.  Most importantly, they’ll remind me us of the stories that no one else will understand, and that’s a secret language worth holding on to.

A Story About Connecting.

Last week my friend Michelle spent a night at my apartment.  She was here for work.  I hadn’t seen Michelle in a few years, but it was like we hadn’t spent a day apart.  I’m sure everyone has those friends –you don’t talk often, but when you have the chance to reconnect it’s like nothings changed.  Michelle and I used to wok together 10+ years ago.  At the time she was living in NYC, and I was the fresh out of college assistant that picked up the phone when the important people couldn’t.  We didn’t even work together really, I was on the TV side of the business and she was on the digital side.  She would call to talk to someone who wasn’t available, and we would slip into some random conversation.  We clicked. 

I know right away.  I can meet you, and after that initial conversation I can tell if we’ll be friends.  I have a good judge of character.  The second time I went to NYC I stayed with Michelle.  Outside of one or two times meeting via work functions we hadn’t psychically been in the same city.  I’m sure people thought it was strange… you’re basically staying with a stranger.  I wasn’t though.  Michelle and I were connected, and I knew that right away.  I was right.  Our friendship has grown over the years.  One year we spent New Years Eve in Austin.  We woke up News Years Day, Michelle asked, ‘Would you judge me if I called downstairs to see if they’ll deliver breakfast and mimosas?’  ‘Only if we can lay in bed and watch Dawson’s Creek or something.’  We will always be friends. 

I’m sure I frighten people at how forward I am.  A couple of months ago, in my friends backyard, I was introduced to this girl.  She was kind of related to my friend.. cousin in-law or something of that nature.  I love meeting new people.  I love learning about their life and their experiences.  She works in sales, and she just moved to Chicago.  At one point she pulled me to the side, ‘next time you want to smoke let’s go out front… I don’t smoke in front of the kids.’  We chatted out front about her life –living in Asia as teenager.  At some point I felt the click.  We’re going to be friends.  Later in the night, ‘I hope you know we are going to be best friends.’ I’ve saw the look she gave me… it’s a weird thing to say to someone.  I get it.  I knew though –and I was right. 

I don’t know why I know, but I do.  I trust my gut feeling when it comes to meeting people.  It’s the same with dating… I can tell after one date.  That leads to a lot of first dates, and not a lot of seconds.  My friends will say I don’t give people a chance, that’s probably true.  It’s the right thing for me though.  I can sit across from someone, have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine… I’ll know.  I'll wait for the click.  It'll come, or it won't.  Also, this reminds me… I need to buy a plane ticket to LA for Michelle’s birthday party in March. 

No, Thank You.

Many have reached out since I started this blog.  Mostly about the honesty in the writing, and how relatable it is.  That was the goal -honesty and relatable.   We are all the same, and we all feel the same, just at different times.  We don’t talk about it though. We live in a different world today, consumed by our phones, and social media.  We are no longer present.  We are uncomfortable with imperfection, but we are all imperfect.

My social media blows up daily with selfies on Snapchat and Instagram.  Do I look right in this light?  What about with this filter? I’ll angle it this way… look how much better it is.  Tell me I’m perfect.  Let me check us in.  The grass is always greener on the other side.  Except it isn’t, and I’ll venture to bet we are all on the same side… we are on the same grass.  Facing the same insecurities and self-doubt.  Are we doing the right thing?  Should I be doing something differently?  Why does their life seem more fun? Why do they seem so put together –they really have their shit together, and here I am just trying to make sure I don’t fuck up.

FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out): anxiety that an exciting or interesting event may currently be happening elsewhere, often aroused by posts seen on a social media website.

We all have FOMO.  We don’t live in the present.  We live in the next best thing.  I’m trying to be better about not doing that.  I’m trying to slow down, and tell myself I’m where I need to be right now.  I’m trying to be more gentle with myself… you are fine, Henry.  You are not missing out…

Thank you to those of you that have reached out, and said such nice things.  I’m glad that the things I’m talking about are relatable.  It’s good to know that I am not alone.  We are not alone.  We’re all taking it day by day… trying to navigate through this life.  I want this blog to be open and honest.  I want it to feel real. In a world where we try to mask the truth I wanted to have a forum that talked about the things we all go through... the things we avoid talking about.  We aren’t perfect… we are human… we are fragile… we are broken…. we are in this together.  Here’s the thing, I bet we are all going to be ok, and maybe even a little better then ok.  So from me to you… Thank You. 

 

Breathe In. Breathe out.

Ok… hold on…. Here we go.  Breathe in. breathe out.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around last night.  I invited friends over to watch the election coverage –they brought champagne.  We planned on celebrating.  No one saw what happened last night coming.  He was not supposed to win.  We as a country were supposed to be better then that.  Here’s the thing, he was a Democrat his whole life, and he was friends with the Clintons.  He is a New Yorker –and more liberal then he let on.  He doesn’t want to be President. He wanted the title, and the attention, and to be honest what will most likely happen is that he will put people in place to run this country so he doesn’t have to.  At the end of the day we will be ok. There will be a lot to recover from, but it’ll be alright, or at least I hope.

Here’s why it’s upsetting though, and why it should upset you. He ran a campaign without ever really having a plan.  For all that time he was not ashamed of his blatant racism. He is a racist and he is sexist. These aren’t things people believe to be true about him –these are things we know to be true about him.  He picked a running mate that is anti the LGBTQ community.  In Indiana Pence advocated for public spending on conversion therapy, and has opposed marriage equality.  Pence voted against fair pay for women and minorities, and passed multiple bills to defund Planned Parenthood.  He will have a larger roll in Trumps administration then probably any VP to come before him.

We elected them into office.  America voted yesterday, and we said that in 2016 that we are still a country made up of racism and sexism and homophobes. We are filled with hate.  I cannot have a conversation with anyone right now that supports him.  If you tell me you voted for him because it was a vote against Hillary because she’s a criminal… that only tells me that you are okay with overlooking racism, sexism and homophobia.  She’s a criminal, but those things are ok.  That is what I hear.  This affects all of us.

I had an exchange last night on Facebook, with a friend, I should have shut social media down.  I reposted a picture that I’m sure many of you have seen by now, “IF YOU VOTE FOR TRUMP TODAY, make sure to explain to your lgbt+, female, black, lation/a, Muslim friends why they don’t matter to you.”  She replied, “How could you say I don’t care about my friends.”  I replied after too many glasses of Chardonnay.  I’m usually good at not doing that, but last night I was an emotional wreck.  Here’s why I take it personally, because for me it is.  Trumps racism –I take that personally because I am Hispanic.  His sexism, because I have a sister and females friends that I love and that don’t deserve that.  I don’t think Trump is homophobic… but Pence certainly is.

Listen, I live in Chicago, and I’ve never really experienced true racism or homophobia.  There’s some kid though in rural America who will live his life in fear because he is gay… he will be afraid to come out.  He will be afraid to be himself.  There is a family that is here illegally from Mexico now paranoid about being deported when they’re just here trying to do the best they can.  As a country, we should care about them.  I don’t care if you’re a Republican… without dissent there is no Democracy.  Last night wasn’t a Republican versus a Democrat –it was us, as a country, validating the terrible things that Donald Trump has said.  It was us, saying it’s okay to have a Vice President, that could very well become President, that is against my basic human rights as a gay man.  So last night, it felt personal, it felt like all those people that voted for him said… we don’t give a fuck.  We need to start caring more.  About each other.  We are here, in this, together… next time choose love, America…

I'm With Her.

I love election day.  I know nothing about politics though.  Ok, that’s being dramatic. I’m not a complete idiot -I know what I need to know to make an informed and educated decision.  Hillary Rodham Clinton is the right choice.

In 2008 I entered the lottery to attend the Obama election night party in Grant Park. I got the tickets.  Amanda was a student at the University of Wisconsin, Madison.  I text her the morning of the election, ‘Do you want to come with to the Obama rally?’  ‘I don’t know if I can, I would have to get on a bus like now and I have class this afternoon.’ ‘Amanda, this might be a night that changes America forever.  It’s History.  You could be apart of it.’ ‘You’re right… I’m going to go buy a bus ticket, I’ll see you this afternoon.’  That night eight years ago we stood in Grant Park amongst strangers, but they didn’t feel like strangers.  I don’t remember at what time they called the election, but I remember being so proud of this country.  We made the right choice.  We made history.

Tonight we have that opportunity again.  We can choose the right person to guide this country into our future.  As I listen to CNN in the background I can’t help but think, how did we get here?  How did this happen? How did we let this man become the Republican Presidential nominee?  He has spent the entire campaign spewing hate and racism, and America made him their candidate.  I wanted to believe that we were all better then that, but we’re not.  We are racist.  We are filled with hatred.  We believe we are better.  I know that to be true, because he’s actually got a chance.  We are giving him a chance, and that to me is the saddest part.  For him this is all a show, and he fooled so many. 

I’ve had a few conversations with friends about this over the last few months.  Most had the same reply, ‘There’s no way he can win.’  Of course we think that.  Here we are in this big city, filled with educated people who actually understand what the candidates stand for.  We are surrounded by diversity.  Most of America is just not that.  They don’t understand.  They once again have bought into his brand.  They bought his clothing at Macy’s, they bought his steaks, they bought into Trump College, and now they’re buying into a Trump presidency.  So can he win tonight?  I hope not, but tonight we will all watch the future unfold together.  We will gather around TV’s and watch as the polls close and the numbers come in, and I for one will wait with bated breath hoping that most of us made the right choice.  Hoping that we, as a country, can say, no more.  Make history tonight, America, so we can wake up tomorrow, and tell the rest of the world… we are better then that...

A Story About Friendship.

I had a friend spend a few days on my couch.  He was waiting for his new apartment to be available.  He needed somewhere to crash.  He was, in fact, my first real roommate a very long time ago when I got my first real apartment.  We were ok roommates.  We both worked in sales, and had separate groups of friends.  We weren’t the kind of roommates that hung out all the time.  We had been friends since high school, but lost touch during the college years, and reconnected when we got our first jobs after college.  Those years are a blur; I was always all over the place. Between work, running back and forth from the city and suburbs, and work happy hours that went way to late I was never around.  He also had a really busy schedule, and so we were roommates and friends, but not the way we are today.

Last night we went out for drinks and started talking, ‘You know if we were the people we are today, we would have been really good roommates.’  ‘Yeah, we would have.’  I know why.  Back then neither of us was out, we weren’t having honest conversations, and we were so young and trying to figure it out.  Moving at 100 miles an hour because you’re in your early twenties and you can.  Over the years though him and I have grown up together.  We have become different people then we were then.  And over the years we have done that together.

I don’t give up on friendships.  They have sustained me through the years.  Most of my friends I’ve had ten plus years.  I invest long term.  We may not see each other often, or talk everyday, but I will always reach out, ‘Lets grab dinner and catch-up.’ I will literally forgive you for almost anything.  I have a deal with myself, I’m either going to never talk to you again, or whatever upset me I’m going to let it go immediately and forgive you.  I don’t have the time or energy to be mad or angry with you.  I want to move past it, because you matter to me.

Through out the week we had real conversations.  We talked about why I’m so attracted to people with baggage, and about his relationship with his family, and about how we both feel like we’re not where we should be.  He challenged me, and I challenged him, and in that we made progress into learning more about ourselves.  He will call me out on my shit.  He won’t just say, ‘You’re right.’  He will ask the questions that are sometimes hard to ask.  I can appreciate that.  That can only happen because of how long we have been friends.  One night this week I said, ‘Oh, I don’t really think I have much baggage…’ ‘Oh honey, you have baggage…’ I laughed, ‘Like what?’ We need the truth. 

I have been so lucky to have really great people in my life over the years.  To have so many of them see it through.  We have grown up together, and because of that, we have this trust circle.  I know I’ll always be ok, because of the people I am fortunate enough to call my friends.  We would be better roommates now, because we are better people.  We are different people.  We have the ability to be honest and challenge each other.  We are no longer those naïve kids scared to talk about real things, and I’m really happy about that.   

About Last Night.

So here we go.  Let’s talk about last night, as I sit in this coffee shop trying to focus.  I moved to Wrigleyville five plus years ago with Amanda.  When Amanda and I signed the lease for our apartment two blocks from Wrigley Field, I said, ‘How crazy would it be to live here if the Cubs won the World Series?’ I take back what I said.  I should have said, “How crazy will it be to live in Wrigley WHEN the Cubs win the World Series?” This is about last night…

I made a reservation last week for a table at the restaurant I live above. I had to be in Wrigley if it came down to a game seven.  My friends and I made our way down to our table at 5pm.  It was Wrigley, and it was crowded, but somehow it all felt contained and managed.  It didn’t feel crazy.  During the fifth inning I looked out the window to see Illinois Sheriff busses and police cars fly by.  Chicago was preparing for something they had waited 108 years for.  Toward the end of the game I text my friend who had run up to my apartment, ‘When you come down grab the Chicago flag and bring it with you.’  That flag has been hanging in my kitchen for five years –the last time it came down was when the Hawks won the Stanley Cup. 

The end of the game gave me more anxiety then I could handle.  We’re this close.  Not next year.  This year.  At the end of the tenth inning the bar exploded.  I hugged my friends.  I high fived strangers.  We did this.  Amanda was crying, I hugged her, ‘We waited five years for this… we can move now.’  We all walked out of the bar and went up to my apartment.  We opened the bottle of Dom Perignon that has been in the fridge for a while.  Now was a good time to open it.  We poured it out and drank it on the porch listening to the sound of Chicago come together. 

I’ve said this before, I’m ok with admitting it, I am not a real sports fan.  I didn’t grow-up going to a lot of sporting events.  I didn’t follow any particular sport or team.  I’m not that type of person. Here’s what I am, a kid that grew up on the south side of Chicago.  I’m the guy that got a Chicago flag tattooed on my arm.  I am in love with this city, and last night I have never been prouder of this city.  We kept it together afterwards.  We celebrated the right way.  Tomorrow is the parade and I’ll certainly be at Wrigley Field celebrating, happy that this is the place that I call home.  I’ll be proud that these are the people I get to share this city with.

I lost the Chicago flag last night, but it’s ok.  It served its purpose.  It’s somewhere in Wrigleyville, probably lost in the mayhem.  We were all lost in that mayhem last night.  Maybe that Chicago flag will be replaced with a ‘W’ flag, and someone will certainly give me shit or call me a bandwagon fan.  It’s cool… I know that deep down I’m still a kid that looks at the Chicago skyline in awe every time I see it.  Thank you Chicago… Love, H

Run With Me.

A year ago today I was in New York running the marathon.  Sometime in January of 2015 I told my friend Julio, ‘I want to run the New York marathon.’  Without hesitation, ‘Let’s do it, Riri.’  We put our names in the lotto, and a few months later I found out I got in.  Julio did not.  ‘You have to still run it… I can’t run alone.  Do it for charity.’  It was a lot to ask.  To raise all that money. He did it though.  Running is my therapy… it’s how I clear my head.  I was talking to my friend Christy a few weeks ago… I was in a state of distress, ‘Henry, go for a run and call me after.’  She was right. 

When my friend Amy was turning 30 I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, ‘I want you to run the Chicago Marathon with me.’  I didn’t think about it.  I just said yes.  I’ve been running ever since. If you know Amy and I together, you can understand this is the healthiest component of our relationship.  It was my gift to her, but also her gift to me…. I just didn’t know it at the time.

When I registered for NY I asked my mom and sister to come, and when they agreed, my aunt offered to come with too.  Julio brought his mom, and my friend Tammy came with.  The night before the marathon we all had dinner in Chelsea.  This cute Italian place with low lighting, candles and exposed brick.  I sat at that table and had this moment… this feeling of, how the did this happen?  All these people at this table... right now… here to support Julio and I.  My friends and family always show up… even in New York all those miles away from home. I’m a lucky dude.

We woke up the morning of the race and in the cab ride to the ferry watched all the Halloween revelers make their way home in their distressed costumes.  We were not those people this year.  We made our way to Long Island where the race starts.  I had been selected to be in the last wave to start -11am.  Julio was selected to be a few waves before me.  He waited though.  We were in this together.  Before the start of each wave they fire a cannon and blare Frank Sinatra –‘New York, New York.’  As we approached the start of the race… my eyes started to tear.  I hugged Julio…. ‘We made it, bud... thank you for getting me here.’

Every race is the same for me.  Those last two miles, as the end is in sight.  It hits me all at once. I begin to think about all the people that have supported me, and encouraged me, and showed up.  I begin to think about how I fucking did this, and survived.  I trained for this.. I committed to this... and I finished this. 

I’ll never run NYC again… it was a hard marathon.  However, one year later… I’ll scroll through those pictures from a year ago today… and I’ll be thankful all over again for the experience, and the people that participated.  Julio… we did that, bud, and I’m still really proud of us…. –h

Sister, Sister

I was talking to Amanda, my sister… ‘Share my blog on your Facebook…’  She replied, ‘I was thinking… you haven’t even mentioned me on it… maybe I’ll repost when you do.’  This is about Amanda. 

I give Amanda a lot of shit.  She gets the brunt of my sarcasm.  I’m aware.  She’s the person I’m closest to.  She is my sister.  She is my friend.  She is my rock.  We were always close.  She was the first person I came out to.  When we were kids we would take these long trips in the car, and as it got dark she would ask, ‘hold my hand, I’m scared.’  I would reach out.  I was scared too, but unlike Amanda I would never say it.  I have been holding her hand ever since, but she has also been holding mine. 

Amanda and I live together, and I’ll often times refer to her as my roommate… ‘you mean your sister..’ my friends will reply.  ‘Yeah, sure, whatever…’ I complain about her all the time… she’s messy, her stuff is everywhere.  She’s needy… ‘what’s for dinner… what are you doing tonight, can I come?’  She is also caring, and kind.  She has fixed me time and time again.  I am broken… she will repair me. 

A lot of years ago I bought tickets to go see Wicked with this guy I was talking to.  He bailed last minute.  I text Amanda, ‘Want to go see Wicked?’ ‘What? Why? Sure.’  ‘It’s a long story… but meet me at the theater.’  We saw Wicked, and afterwards I asked if she wanted to go have a drink.  ‘Who was supposed to go with you tonight?’  ‘It’s a long story.’  I knew right then she would be the first person I came out to. We had a few drinks, and at the end of the night we paid our bill and walked outside.  We drove separately and stood by our cars as I smoked, and tiptoed around the words that were about to come out of my mouth.  ‘So… the guy that was supposed to come tonight.’  As tears filled my eyes.  She looked at me, ‘I know… it’s ok…. I know and I love you.’  And she hugged me.  Right there in that moment, we were kids again… except this time it was me… ‘hold my hand, I’m scarred.’ 

I’ll continue to complain about her. I’ll continue to get frustrated.  However, I know she is the only person that will always be there for me.  She will stay.  When others retreat, and when life doesn’t work out, she will be there… she will pick up the pieces, and never complain about it.  She is a good person.  I am lucky to have her.  One day we wont live together, and we will move into our lives.  We are connected though.  We are one.  So, Amanda, this your blog entry… thank you… for holding my hand through all the shit.  Life is messy… I am messy… but we’re in this mess together.  

It's All Going to be OK.

I took a year off from working.  I needed a break.  Ad sales is difficult -and the pressure is always there.  Am I doing enough?  Why am I not being successful?  What am I am doing wrong?  I had a good day, maybe it isn’t so bad?  I couldn't take it.  The stress was too much.  It was making me unhappy and unhealthy.  I had enough.  So I walked away for a year.   I needed to center to myself… I needed to find myself.

I spent a year doing nothing.  Well, not nothing, but you know… nothing.  For a year, my life consisted of me being able to do whatever I wanted.  I would wake-up, make breakfast, go to the gym for two hours, paint, write, do my improv stuff, take Billie to the dog beach... I spent a year doing everything I love to do.  I spent a year taking my life back.

I lost my job in July of 2015.  I was lucky.  I had saved up some money, I was able to collect unemployment, and found ways to cut corners.  Immediately after it happened though I was terrified.  At 2pm I text my friend Tammy, ‘I just got laid off..’ She replied quickly, ‘I just got home… want to go have a margarita…?’  In that immediate panic that my life was falling apart, she calmed me.  Told me I would be ok.  She was right… I would be ok.

I woke up the next day.  I felt immediate relief.  I didn’t have anywhere to be, or anyone to answer to.  I was in charge here.  It was July, and it was early.  I love summer mornings in Chicago,  “Billie, let’s go for a walk.” We took an hour-long walk –the neighborhood was quiet and still.  I felt still. We walked to my favorite coffee shop.  Smiled at the moms walking with their kids.  I felt guilty, for not giving a fuck that this was my new life. 

My family and friends panicked.  For a year, ‘Are you ok?  Is everything alright?’  Everything was fine.  I was fine.  I was happy.  I was so fortunate to have had a year to recharge, to do the creative things that actually make me happy.  It wasn’t all easy, toward the end of that year I had to take money out of places I didn’t want to, and to be honest my parents helped me out a bit with little things.  Most people might not say that out loud?  But honestly, that’s my fucking truth.  And it was ok.  I was so lucky to have a support system.  I was not alone. 

I went back to Sales in September.  This past Monday night in Manhattan, I had dinner at Wolfgang's Steakhouse.  One of the top 10 steakhouses in NYC.  I looked around the room, after spending a long day in sales training with all of our upper management.  We talked about the future of our small start-up… what’s working what’s not?  I sat at that dinner, and I had this weird realization… you are back.  You are here.  You are fine. 

I’ll be forever grateful for that year off.  For the people that got me through it.  That year changed me.  It made me different.  It’s the reason this blog exists.  It made me take a hard look at my life.  What makes you happy, Henry?  A few months in… I search to find balance between the things I love to do, and the things I need to do to support myself.  Balance is tangible.  I know it. 

I’m happy right now.  My job is great.  The company is based in Canada.  They are overly nice, and overly polite.  I find time to write, and do improv, and I need to pick up a paintbrush soon… and I will.  I’m not going to the gym six days a week… but three to four days is good, and I’ll get back to six.  Balance is hard.  I’ll find it though.  I now know what I need in my life to make me happy.  I know what tools are needed… and I’m responsible for finding them… and using them.  This week was weird.  It was busy, and I spent a lot of time with my team.  But I had this feeling of.. I am fine… but the truth is, I was fine all along.  I realize that… now.