The Final Oath: What Silence Made of Me I didn’t choose this ending. It was forced upon me by the one who vowed never to leave. I was not divorced by my will — I was abandoned. Discarded by the man who once called himself my husband. He told me I was nothing, not through words, but through silence. Through that cold, cutting, calculated silence that manipulates without speaking. That silence that says, You’re not worth even a goodbye. He cast me out. He left me to bleed in the dark while pretending he was the victim. He cared nothing for whether I was alive or broken, whole or haunted — as long as he didn’t have to carry any responsibility for the wreckage he caused. And I see him now for what he truly is: a man who only ever loved the reflection of himself. I regret the day I met him. I regret the day I kissed him. I regret every single illusion that made me believe he was anything more than a hollow echo wearing a human face. I was a fool. The stupidest f***ing person ali...

The Silent Year No relationship can withstand the test of a silent year. A year of disregard. A year of non-connection. A year where one partner was manipulated, broken down, and left defenseless—while the other stood by in silence. When there are no answers, no touch, no way to feel safe in each other’s presence, something sacred dies. There is no returning from that kind of silence. No amount of wishing or remembering can bridge what was left to rot in the dark. The one who walked away—the one who allowed the silence—made their choice. They ended it not with words, but with absence. With fear. With indifference. The Silent Year marks the death of hope, the final extinguishing of connection. Just like in the old pagan initiations—what is done cannot be undone. Once the magic fails to meet the physical, the gods themselves seal the bond in stillness. And so it ends. Not with a fight, but with silence. The year and a day becomes a judgment—a final spell cast by time itself. ...

The Reason I Will Never Return to Portneuf Medical Center I’ve only ever gone to the Pocatello hospital out of necessity — because it’s the only one in town. Emergencies, doctor-to-doctor referrals, or situations where there was no other choice. Out of everyone I’ve encountered there, only two people have ever been genuine, decent human beings. The truth is simple: Portneuf Medical Center’s mental health services are nationally below par. They do not offer treatment — only temporary stabilization. Once they’ve sedated you or quieted the crisis, they send you right back out the door. Anyone who’s been through that facility knows this isn’t exaggeration; it’s the lived reality of many. There is no real therapy there. No long-term care. No healing. It’s a holding place — a warehouse for pain that the city doesn’t want to see. It’s run primarily by social workers who rely on the courts to keep people under control, and that’s about the extent of their authority. Statistically a...

My Final Plea This is my final plea as I leave this world behind—the world of my past, the world of noise and memory and human ache. All I ask is that you let me go. Completely. In body, in mind, in spirit, in love. Please, treat me as one who has already passed beyond. Not out of pity, not out of guilt, but out of reverence for what once was. It isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s simply that being bound to the world now brings only pain—an endless weight of sorrow, of solitude, of the kind of loneliness that deepens in the presence of others. There is no hope left where connection used to dwell. What once felt like belonging now feels like a wound that will not close. So I ask this of all who have known me, seen me, or spoken my name: Do not look for me. Do not reach for me. Do not try to call me back. For if you do, you might tear apart the fragile threads still holding me together. You might draw me back into the gravity I have struggled so hard to escape. If you love me, let me...

The Cost of Closeness: Choosing Solitude When Love Has Become Too Heavy There comes a time when the past isn’t something you carry—it’s something you bury. I’ve reached that time. I’m leaving behind the history, the story, the purpose, the love, and the hope. Not because I want to, but because it’s the only way I can survive. The only way I can even be a fraction of who I once was. There’s something both disheartening and strangely hopeful about knowing you’ll only ever be a shadow of your former self. I know I’ll never again be what I once was. I’ve lost my ability to love the way I used to. The very thought of love now makes me feel sick to my stomach. There was a time when my life had meaning—when love felt like purpose, when connection felt sacred. But that time is gone. And now, the idea of love feels more like a wound than a gift. It’s not something I long for anymore; it’s something I avoid. It’s hard to find a reason to keep going when everything that once made life...

The Rejection of Science Is the Rejection of God: A Manifesto on Sacred Truth In the boundless expanse of the cosmos, where galaxies spiral in eternal dance and subatomic particles weave the fabric of existence, nothing escapes the embrace of law. Not the fiery birth of a star, nor the quantum whisper of an electron, nor the fleeting spark of human consciousness. Every phenomenon, from the grandest cosmic symphony to the humblest cellular division, adheres to patterns, rhythms, and principles that are immutable, precise, and eternal. These are not mere human constructs, forged in the crucible of intellect; they are the codex of reality, the divine grammar that structures all being, the blueprint etched by the hand of infinite intelligence. To observe these laws is to witness the mind of God unfolding. To deny them is to veil one’s eyes from the very essence of creation, inviting chaos into the sacred order that sustains us all. This manifesto is a clarion call to reclaim th...

When the Bond Breaks: The Neuroscience of Running Out of Pair-Bond Slots What a True Pair-Bond Really Is In neuroscience, a pair-bond isn’t just romance—it’s a physiological partnership. Two nervous systems merge and begin to co-regulate. Heart rates synchronize, breathing patterns mirror, cortisol and oxytocin ebb and flow in tandem. You don’t just love someone—you regulate through them. Their presence becomes your body’s anchor of safety, calm, and belonging. Why Humans Only Have a Few Deep Bonds Studies in affective neuroscience and attachment biology suggest that humans, like other monogamous mammals, can form only a limited number of limbic-level pair bonds across a lifetime—often around 4–6. Each deep bond physically rewires the brain’s attachment circuits and consumes enormous emotional energy. When one ends, the system can’t instantly start over; it must metabolize the old map of connection before it can create another. After several losses, the brain often grows mo...

The Invisible Wiring: What True Emotional Bonding Really Is (and Why It Hurts So Much)  ​Bonding. We use the word casually—to bond with a new co-worker, or to bond over a shared movie. But true bonding is something far deeper, a powerful emotional and physiological tether that forms between beings. It’s most profoundly seen between a caregiver and child, but it also anchors us to lovers, soul-deep friends, and even our beloved animal companions. ​This connection isn't just polite "attachment"; it's the fundamental wiring of safety, belonging, and love deep within your nervous system. When you truly bond with someone, your body unconsciously integrates their presence into its survival mechanism. Your brain learns, often without your conscious input: “I am safe when they are near,” “Their touch means peace,” and “Their voice calms my storms.” ​The Biopsychology of Connection: The Chemical Glue ​Human bonding is a fascinating biopsychological process ...

When Everything You Are Is Gone There are moments in life when loss doesn’t just visit—it moves in, burns the house down, and leaves you standing in the ashes wondering if you ever really existed at all. For me, that moment came when I lost everything that made me me: my marriage, my best friend, my home, my covenant, my career, and my True Love. I had built my world around two things—my husband and my company. The business wasn’t just work; it was my identity. I was the front man, the voice, the face. For seven or eight years, it was everything I did from morning to night. And when it started to close toward the end of my marriage, it felt like watching a part of myself die. But I didn’t fight to save it. In some strange way, I was glad to let it go. What I didn’t expect was how much else I’d lose along with it. My husband was my other half. Together with our pets—our little family, our fur babies—they were my whole world. Every heartbeat of my day was built around them. A...

Fuck Off, Human Race: A Declaration of Self-Preservation. There comes a time when the drama, the abuse, and the endless corralling of your life by other people finally breaks something inside you. When you’ve spent years asking to be heard, asking for help, asking for basic respect—and instead, people do what they think is best for you, as if they know your soul better than you do. They keep hurting you, again and again, until one day, there’s nothing left to give but two words: F* off.** It’s not anger anymore—it’s survival. It’s not rebellion—it’s reclamation. Because when you’ve been manipulated, attacked, and emotionally strangled by those who swear they love you, something inside you finally wakes up and says, No more. I’ve reached that point. I’ve been pushed, pulled, twisted, and broken by people who claimed to care. I’ve watched love turn into a weapon. I’ve watched care become control. And every time I tried to speak my truth, it was twisted into something inconven...

When the Heart Goes Quiet: Living With Emotional Numbness After Developmental Trauma People love to tell you to “just think positive” or “choose happiness.” But if you grew up in chaos, neglect, or fear, you already know this: you can’t think your way into feeling safe. For many trauma survivors, especially those who experienced pain early in life, the issue isn’t a bad attitude — it’s a brain that had to re-wire itself just to survive. This is what developmental trauma really is: a structural injury to the emotional systems of the brain. What Actually Happens Inside the Brain Our feelings live in several key brain areas: The amygdala, which spots danger. The hippocampus, which links memories and emotions. The insula and anterior cingulate, which help you notice what’s going on inside your body. And the prefrontal cortex, which interprets and manages it all. When these parts talk to each other, emotion flows naturally — joy feels bright, sadness feels clean, fear rises and ...

Family  How does one reconcile the happiest day of their life — the day they dreamed of as a child, the day their entire understanding of God, of faith, of family, revolves around — with the crushing aftermath that follows? That day, so profound, so blessed, so holy… it was the altar of all you believed in: that two souls uniting becomes family, that love is sacred, that from union comes life itself. Without that union, there is no family. Without that devotion, there is no path to the divine, no tether between souls that can endure the storms of existence. And yet, that day became my greatest regret. The heaviest sorrow I carry. I have never wished so fiercely for something to never have happened. And in that contradiction — to love so fully, to dedicate your heart so completely, only to have it shattered — there lies a pain that defies measure, a wound that no passage of time can close. How do you look at the one who both gave it to you and destroyed it? The one who h...

The Covenant That Turned to Dust People say it’s wrong to disregard my past marriage — to dismiss fourteen years of life, love, and history as if it were nothing. They tell me I should cherish the good memories, hold on to the laughter, the trips, the quiet nights, and somehow let that carry me forward. But I can’t. Because if the marriage ended — if divorce was the final decree — then the covenant was broken. It wasn’t just a contract; it was supposed to be a vow of life, soul, and permanence. And if that bond failed, then everything built upon it fell, too. The foundation cracked, and the meaning crumbled with it. Fourteen years. That’s not something you rebuild. That’s not something you can replace with a new face, a new name, a new start. Fourteen years of weaving two lives together, of knowing someone’s breath, their fears, their rhythms — that kind of closeness becomes part of you. And when it’s gone, it’s not just the person you lose. It’s a piece of yourself. It was...

Final Testimony of Regret and Release I have few regrets in my life — but when I do, they are carved deep. I regret ever sharing a bed with you. I regret ever letting you past my door. I regret every kiss, every touch, every breath I wasted on what turned out to be nothing — lies dressed as love. I regret walking away from Jimmy for you. I regret walking away from Solomon. Both men had more character, more ambition, more compassion, and more follow-through than you ever did. I regret leaving the door open for you when you wandered to Remington, Brian, Alex, Skyler, Michael, and all the others — at least the ones I can remember by name. I regret taking you back four times. Each time you swore you were sorry, that you were just “working through some things.” But the truth was always the same — you wanted what I could give, not who I was. I was a fool to believe otherwise. I regret calling the police that day, the day I stepped in between you and Skyler during your drug-fueled...

The Perfectly Balanced Banana There is a moment in the life of a banana that is nearly impossible to catch, nearly impossible to define, and yet it exists—if only you are paying attention. It is the perfectly balanced banana. The one where the peel has surrendered its stubborn green, yet the brown has not yet claimed dominion. Yellow reigns, vibrant and alive, flecked with hints of amber and the softest whisper of caramelizing sugar. This banana is a study in equilibrium. It is sweetness and subtlety. It is the precise intersection of life and ripeness, where starches have transformed, where the sugars have learned their ultimate purpose, where metabolism meets poetry. Bite into it and you do not just taste a banana—you taste joy, pure and unassuming. It is the happiness of the simplest kind, the kind that does not announce itself with fireworks or accolades, but sneaks in quietly, presses itself into your senses, and stays there. The perfectly balanced banana is a reminder...

Love Is the Garden, Lust Is the Weed Love is a garden. Lust is the weed. We often confuse one for the other. We mistake the quick spike of desire for the deep roots of devotion. We reach for lust because it’s immediate, intoxicating, like scrolling through endless feeds that give us momentary dopamine hits. It feels like connection, but it’s fleeting — a flash of color that disappears the moment we blink. Love, on the other hand, is slow. It is the patient tending of soil. It is the nourishment that allows life to grow, flourish, and endure. Love gives us family, friends, community, and the steady rhythm of care that sustains us even in the hardest seasons. Love is not instantaneous. It cannot be consumed in one bite. It requires time, attention, and vulnerability. Lust takes nutrients but offers nothing but suffocation. It spreads fast, choking out what is real, leaving behind only the memory of its bright, empty bloom. It can feel like life, but it leaves the heart deplet...

The One Thing We Can Control: Love There is so much in this world that we cannot control. Hurricanes sweep across the coast, genocide shatters nations, political unrest shakes entire continents. The forces that shape life can feel overwhelming, indifferent, even cruel. And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, there is one thing we can control. One thing that remains fully, beautifully, undeniably within our power: love. We can control not abandoning it. We can control not letting selfishness or self-centeredness cut us off from its current. We can choose — every single day — to push harder into the lives of the people we know would crucify themselves for us. And into the lives of those for whom we would crucify ourselves. All we truly have control over is how we show love. How we express it. How we embrace it. How we sometimes run from it, too, even when we know it is the very air we were made to breathe. Life is built around love. All the triumphs, all the heartbreaks, all...

What Is Love? What is love? Is it the peaceful sereness — the quiet that settles between two hearts when words are no longer needed? Is it the wild madness — the reckless laughter, the sleepless nights, the pulse that makes you feel alive just because someone else exists? Is it the sorrow of losing someone and somehow finding a way to move forward? Or is it the losing itself — the wound that never truly closes, the place inside you that keeps whispering their name no matter how many years have passed? What is love? We call it many things. We write about it, sing about it, build worlds around it — and yet none of us can ever quite define it. Love is such an unknowable force, such unpredictable chaos, and yet such a steady stream that we do not, and perhaps cannot, fully understand it. We try to name its limits. We call certain things “too much.” We say codependence is not love — and yet we also say that too much distance is not love either. So what is it, really, that lives ...

Let Yourself Get a Little Bit Fuck Up (A Gospel of Being Human) Here’s the truth: you’re not supposed to have it all together. You’re supposed to break a little, get messy, fall apart sometimes. You’re supposed to screw up, cry in parking lots, text the wrong person, eat cereal for dinner, make a beautiful disaster of your healing. That’s not failure — that’s aliveness. Somewhere along the way, we got the idea that being “spiritual” or “healed” meant being serene, composed, unbothered. But that’s a lie. The people who are truly alive — the artists, lovers, healers, mystics, mad saints — they all got a little bit f***ed up somewhere along the way. And instead of hiding it, they let it become part of their story. Because that’s what it means to live: to let the rough edges breathe. To let your heartbreak make art out of you. To let the wine spill, the mascara run, the soul unravel just enough for light to get in. If you’re always trying to be perfect, you’ll never actually to...

When Consumption Loses Its Meaning: What’s Left? There comes a point when buying stops working. Not because you’ve run out of money, but because you’ve run out of belief — belief that the next thing will make life feel full again. We’re raised inside an ecosystem built on desire. Ads don’t just sell products; they sell stories about ourselves. The new car isn’t transportation — it’s proof you’ve made it. The new phone isn’t communication — it’s relevance. The new outfit isn’t fabric — it’s identity. But one day, it all stops landing. The thrill fades faster. The boxes pile up. The credit card bill reads like a confession. And suddenly, the whole machine starts to feel absurd — this endless chase for something that can’t be bought. So what’s left when consumption loses its meaning? At first, silence. A strange, hollow quiet. The part of you that once chased the next thing doesn’t know what to do with itself. You walk through stores like they’re museums of a past life. You sc...

The Truth I Can’t Outrun There’s a truth I’ve been avoiding, but it follows me everywhere I go. It sits with me in quiet rooms, rides with me in the car, and whispers when I try to sleep. There is so much that I still do not understand about what happened between Jeffrey and me. So much that still feels like an unfinished sentence in my soul. I’ve never believed in remarriage. I’ve never believed in second chances when it comes to something sacred that was once whole. To me, marriage isn’t a contract; it’s a covenant. Once it’s broken, the world can keep turning, but something eternal stops inside you. And yet, that’s only part of why I can’t stay here. Every street, every scent, every song reminds me of him — of us — of what once felt divine. It’s not just the memories; it’s the gravity. The pull. The ache of a love that refuses to die quietly. I want to tell myself that if I saw him again, I would be stronger. That I wouldn’t collapse back into his arms or surrender mysel...

It Only Meant Something When It Was for You I’m sick and tired of the “me first” generation. I’m sick of the “me first, you second” mindset that’s turned the world into a culture of entitlement. Everyone complains about being lonely, but nobody’s willing to do the work that real connection requires—especially if it costs them something. And maybe that’s why I feel this hollow ache every day. Because I hate not having someone to place above myself. I hate not having a spouse. I hate waking up with no reason to fight, no reason to build, no reason to care. People keep preaching self-love and independence like they’re the highest truths, but I’m not sure they’ve ever tasted the kind of love that makes you want to become better, not for yourself, but for the person beside you. That’s the kind of love I lived for—the kind that gives you something sacred to lose. I don’t care about big social issues anymore, not because I’m heartless, but because they don’t touch my life. I only ...

Marriage Is Not a Right — It’s a Privilege I’ve come to believe that marriage should not be a right granted to all. Marriage, in its truest form, is not a civil convenience — it is a sacred covenant, a privilege that must be earned through maturity, reverence, and readiness. It is not something that should be entered into because one feels Twitterpated or lonely. While many call marriage a civil right, I now believe it is instead the responsibility of the state and of the people to protect the sanctity of the institution — not for the sake of exclusion, but for the preservation of society and the spiritual fabric that binds it together. This conviction transcends gender or orientation. It is about the meaning of commitment itself. I believe marriage laws should be stricter and more discerning. Couples should be tested before being granted the right to marry — not tested in love, but in understanding: of sacrifice, of endurance, of covenant. Divorce, I believe, should only b...

I Stand Conflicted I believe in marriage equality — fully, unapologetically. Love is love, and every person, regardless of gender, deserves the right to make that sacred vow and be recognized by law. But as a queer man who has been married, who has been blessed to live in a time where that right was finally ours after generations of struggle, I find myself deeply conflicted. Before marriage equality was even legal, I believed marriage was something sacred — one and done. A covenant, not a convenience. And now, after witnessing what I’ve witnessed, both in my own life and across our community, I can’t help but feel disheartened. We fought so hard for this right — bled, marched, and suffered for it — only to treat it as casually as those who mocked us for wanting it in the first place. We jump in and out of marriages like they’re dating apps. We treat vows as trends, not promises. Marriage was supposed to mean something eternal, something binding in spirit, not just paperwork...