Shoh Slaynt

I started my first blog in 2012, inspired by New Year's Resolutions. I was recently divorced, I had quit smoking, back into a gym routine and I was feeling great. I thought I would start writing. I have always loved writing for fun, why not challenge myself to become great at writing? Through a subconscious need for self-expression that I was unaware of below the surface, that blog instantly turned flipped from positively challenging myself to focus on my physical well being into a vessel for therapeutic self-accountability, by openly blogging about my emotions post-divorce. I honestly believe that sharing those emotions and fears with all of you, helped me keep myself accountable through my divorce and is a contributing factor to the co-parenting environment the four parents all serve and maintain.

That blog served as a healthy way for me to put my adverse emotions down on a sterile paper canvass and methodically dissect them with words and metaphors until I understood the root cause of how and why that emotionally malignant object makes me react the way I do. The process of recognizing what I need to do to overcome it was always shared with my friends and family through a Facebook post and if you surround yourself with good people, they help support you in those endeavors. I also get to dust off fun words from the English language and moonlight as a wordsmith so there is selfish fun in that as well. Most folks do not prefer that type of transparency. I think humans should be more transparent about their wants and intentions, regardless of how they land morally. Do you want your ego in the way of your decision or could you use iron from someone else for sharpening? What is the worst that could happen? You accidentally inspire someone to join on in your endeavor? I could do worse with less so long story long...

In June of this year, I received my Ancestry DNA results. Turns out there is quite the mental gym with my emotional process around this. It has been very difficult for me to understand. The more I think about it and attempt to encapsulate or explain what it means and feels to me, the better I can deal with it. Let me give you the genealogy of that feeling (I will be taking bonus Dad points for that pun). 

I had begun a paid search with Catholic Social Services (CSS) around 2009 to see if they could locate my mother. There are many facts that I am loosely aware of her side and next to zero on his, so we had to start my search there. A few short months later, my phone rang because that search had a hit and the letters from CSS had found her. The representative, Carol, had just spoken with my mother on the phone. On my subsequent call with Carol, she made mention that my mother said she still thinks of me on my birthday and around the holidays. I need to pause right here for a moment. We are all well aware of the fact that parents dwell on children and the opposite is true. However, when Carol said that and I had knowledge that indeed my mother did actually think of me, those words touched a place in my heart that I did not know existed. That was the first time I had felt that feeling. The sensation is heavy, my whole chest gets uncomfortably tight, I involuntarily flex my sternum, doubling me over like a lurch and my heart wants to burst but I am not sure if that is in a good or a bad way. It could be the worse feeling I have ever felt but it is definitely the strongest and most foreign. My adoptive mother, Jean, did as good of a job as she could. I am not afraid to say nor do I do not believe it is disrespectful to acknowledge that if you knew my mother, she was a very difficult woman for anyone to love except my father. Somehow that man did it unwaveringly and may God bless his soul for being that for her. Deeper still in that corner, a part of it was atrophied through an adoption process. My origin was unknown and that small knowledge of her thoughts, reached all the way to that spot and it was a joy to know she was alive, she sounds like she is in good spirits and she sounds like she is a good person. 

Unfortunately for me, that brief process of making contact and gaining new knowledge was short lived. A few months later, Carol received a letter from my mother that, to paraphrase said 'I did not think I would ever hear anything about him again. I do not know how I feel about this. I would like to say that I would like to meet him one day but what I have to overcome is too great right now. This will take some time.' I genuinely was happy with that, I thought finding her would be impossible. 

That was 15 years ago. That letter seemed to have been written with a lot of thought. She seemed genuinely scared at the prospect of her family or her partner finding out. She has lived with the same man since 1986 and never told him or her family about me. The second conversation she ever had about me was 30 years after the first, when she put me up for adoption. She literally never told a soul. I have come to understand the conversation with Carol is the first time she spoke of me since putting me up for adoption the day after I was born.

By now, Carol retired and Catholic Social Services did not back fill her post-adoption position. That meant I had to work through the court to find out more about him. There was no other information about him other than his common name so they granted it to me; John Taylor. So the last few years, I have dabbled with google and social media but that haystack is too large for me with a name like that not connected to any other identifying details. I had hit a wall and I refused to force myself into my mother's life.

When you get your DNA results back, they tell you what types of DNA come from which parent but there was no way to figure out which came from which. All I knew was my mother was born in Wales and I had zero DNA tying me to any Welch. I had one predominantly British parent and one predominantly Scottish parent.  My brain took Wales and thought she was the British one. I assumed my father was the predominantly Scottish side and the only really good DNA hits I had were on that side so I felt 'safe' reaching out. I was always told he had to idea I existed and I knew that my mother had not spoken to him since before her first sign of my life. If he had no idea, there was little risk to mitigate damaging her world, if I reached out on his side. 

Within a few days, I reached out to what was looking like an older half brother on my father's side. I found him on FB and sent him a message, saying we may share a father and I have not heard back. I kept searching and reached out to some 2nd cousins on my Dad's side as well. Timelines were not making sense and the little info I had was massively conflicting with the large amount of verifiable information that was I was substantiating minute over minute. Why was this not fitting? Then it hit me, my mother is the Scottish one and my Father is the British. The very next second was horrifying. I just realized that I let the cat out of the bag to the brother of the woman who never told her family about me. There was not a more intimately, and precisely damaging thing I could have ever inadvertently done. 

I am also trying to sort out my moral compass on the source of blame for that damage I spoke of. That is something I have wrestled with for days. It keeps me up at night, it ended my day early my first day back from vacation and I am trying to be okay with processing that guilt that I do not believe is mine.

Most likely the ball is in her court, via her brother because of my innocent in nature yet errant-in-delivery direct message. It was rocketed at her with a serve I never meant to have and it was an absolute ace. All I can hear is the fucking bounce of that ball on an echoing court and wondering how bad her world is rocked right now and literally hoping to God she does not slam that door because of my innocent mistake.

I now realize I have worried my whole life about fitting in with people and groups. I am very approachable and accommodating to people because I am stuck with this inherent sense of rejection that I do not want to hold onto anymore. I keep deep circles of friends because I love being welcomed in as many groups as I can. I have two wonderful friends of mine that see me in their family as an actual brother, and I am invited to attend cherished family-only poker weekends, fishing trips, and deer camps with these families. I just do not have the same last name. I have come to realize that I am such an extraverted, acceptance seeking person who prides himself on these friendships because it is the only source of true love that I get outside of my immediate family members. In a few months, I am going to officially marry into one of the most wonderful families that I have ever met. All of these quirks on how my heart works because of all this can be traced back to that original source of rejection. Adoption is truly not rejection but somehow that is how scar tissue reads. Now I find myself thousands of miles away, trying to lock a digital gaze with the source of why my heart is so scared to not be accepted. And after all this, I may get officially rejected by her this time and I am so fucking scared of what that knife twist will feel like if it come to pass. 

For now, I have concluded that I am terrified and I am working to intimately understand and ultimately accept that terror. Accepting the ugliest parts of ourselves is the manifestation of our flawed nature. This process truly binds us to our mortality and adds integrity to our character in the form of humility. There is more to this binding process that I am going through and have thoughts on. For now, this feels like a good place to stop. I genuinely appreciate you taking the time to read it and hope this found you well. I wish I could explain the relief acquired by rinsing an old wound with newly crafted words and now-recognized feelings. I am unable to do that justice currently and just say that I appreciate you taking some time to read this because it is also you helping me.

Reminder

October 1st. I remember this date in 2012 so vividly. I had spent the entire previous weekend moving all of my belongings by myself from the condo in Fenton where I lived with my wife, stepson and son to an apartment in Livonia. That night would be the first night I'd fall asleep alone in dead quiet as no children, another adult or a dog were there to stir the silence. It was a Monday and it was incredibly surreal.

I am infamous for being able to fall asleep quickly under ridiculous circumstances. Just got into an argument? Good night. Woke up a little too early on a Sunday, had cup of coffee and a light rain outside got the best of me? Lights out. That night was different. What had I just done? I broke vow by giving up. I let down an 11 year old. My own son was sleeping in a crib 50 miles away. Did I just make the right decision by asking for a divorce?

I could not believe how unhappy I was with a commitment I had made that, by design, is meant to bring structure, stability and happiness to one person. Sure, marriage is no walk in the park but my God was it supposed to have the lowest of lows this consistently? I chose to pursue my own happiness and now I couldn't bare the thought of my own decision. Finally exhausted I fell asleep at who knows what hour and had that weird thing happen where you wake up and you think the awful circumstance you fell asleep under was part of the dream that you just had. You receive that split second of relief where you thank your lucky stars that what you previously held as an awful reality was just fiction. Then the cold, other side of the bed brought it all tumbling down again. 

These eight years have been a journey and I have easily grown more as a person within them more than I probably had my entire adult life outside of that. I have reconnected with family that I hardly spoke to in years, reinvested time into friendships that have paid dividends since then and finally digested the giant slice of humility that I served myself of financially restarting my entire life. I used the phrase journey a moment ago but frankly it's been one multipronged life lesson that I have thoroughly enjoyed. 

I have found new friendships since then that are just as strong as ones I've had for decades. I have had my heart filled up and broken. I've learned new things and picked up new hobbies. I've re-established the relationship with that then-eleven-year-old and we have a great presence in each other's lives. I have learned to love myself and found comfort in solitude. That might ring with a grim undertone but it's the opposite; I am comfortable in my own skin.

Most importantly, where many people hold grudges and maintain awful interactions with their former spouse, that bond has become a strength for our son. I would say we are all lucky that it has worked out but in fact the work was done and we're all grateful for the fact that not only are we all adults, we all are able to consistently act like it. 

I noticed the date was October 1st today right before bed. I stopped on the way to bed, turned around and wanted to capture my thoughts in the moment. While many times I recognize a recurring date and hold on to the awful things that might have happened on this anniversary, today is not one of those days for me anymore. October is that first month in Michigan where we don't hold on to random warm days and accept that fact that cold weather is on the horizon. That nature around us dies and retracts for awhile. Instead on dwelling on the significance of the cold change in season which coincided with letting go of dying relationships, instead I'll appreciate the wonderful life that has grown out of that compost because it's one I am incredibly proud of.

Today is YOUR Day!

Well hello there, little one.

While you have no comprehension of the journey your new, wonderful little soul is about to embark upon, there are specific assurances that I can give you that are sure to reach across space, love and will that can land within your precious little heart right now.

Let me tell be the first to officially tell you that you have hit the absolute parent lottery with the two you have been graced with. I have had the honor to cross paths with and individually befriend them both before they were married. They are so excited and ready to meet you and few things will bring me more joy than when I can officially meet the one that gave them the title 'mother' and 'father'. 

Your father is such a breath of fresh air. As chivalry continues to wain, he stands strong against its withering and leads by example on how to appreciate a woman. As much as I fashion myself a gentleman, I am inspired by his commitment to this age old fundamental. I am more than sure that his actions will set the bar for what you look for in a spouse one day. You'll grow up within that and will see it first hand. Allow me to bid good luck to the man that will one day try to measure up to appreciate you the way your father does your mother; he's going to need it.

Your mother is such a strong woman. Despite her consistently early bed time, she does possess a love for Peter Pan that I appreciate; truly young at heart and I adore that. She has such a warm, welcoming and light heart that to know you come from just half of that let's us know that your heart will start out exactly in the right place. She is going to show you first hand, how to appreciate the ones you love so well. Her soul is a wonderful mold for you to be nurtured and cast within. 

You see, the stars are already aligned for you. You are the physical representation of their love and I have been lucky enough to see that love first hand. I have watched your father dote on how he feels about your mother, I have seen the smile that their bond puts on your mother's face and I have witnessed their young-at-heart love for one another the day they said 'I do' when they committed their vows to one another. Parent lottery, I tell you. Welcome to this wondrously crazy world, little one. I absolutely cannot wait to meet you!

Global Adversity vs. Us

Almost no one thought we would end up in a world like we have in March of 2020. Yet, here we are at the behest of all its absurdity.

Every generation has its milestones and I'll list ours for the sake of discussion; we were the last generation to have incredulous amount of freedom as children, the internet was born, cellular telephones with cameras were a thing and suddenly all of the information we've ever known was instantly at the tip of our fingers. Society had its issues but I would wager that since the industrial revolution, no other generation has seen that level of technological advancement within such a short amount of time. I could be wrong but you will allow me to wax poetic, won't you?

When you think back on accomplishments, the human spirit can have a tendency to rest upon its own induced laurels. The muscle rests in time of peace and leads to atrophy. The wits dull and the belly gets fat. We did not have a significant agent of adversity so our source of evolutionary requirement faded into the background so our collective mindset continues to maintain the status quo. Adversity carves out firm character, requires perseverant innovation and inspires unselfish cooperation. Well, the world decided we needed a lesson in humane fundamentals.

This outbreak has asked us to prioritize the sick and elderly, become aware of one another and the level of vulnerable that life brings. What I have witnessed in the last two weeks, (while the loss of life unfortunately compounds), has been inspirational at the community level. The world is being wired again to learn that the preservation and safe keeping of life is a need that weighs heavier than non-essential wants. I am anxious for when we can expect day-to-day life to return to a version more recently familiar, because we have yet to know the underlying cost.

In the remake of the move 'The Day the Earth Stood Still' I remember being inspired by the scene where the alien Klaatu (played by Keanu Reeves) tells Professor Barnhardt (played by the wonderful John Cleese) that the human race will see its world end for how it has treated the planet. Barnhardt makes the counter point that Klaatu's own race faced a similar situation previously but was given the chance to right the ship, which they obviously did. The line he sites is one of my favorites and roots my love for the word precipice; he tells him "It is only the brink that people find the will to change. Only at the precipice do we evolve. This is our moment."

Well, how deep is the impact on that quote when read today? There have been significant sources of adversity on the world in my 41 years but none of them are as globally significant as the COVID-19 pandemic. Perhaps this is our moment and this helps shape humanity on a better path. My hope lies in the idea that these younger generations realize and remember what the world had to do in order to maximize the number of people that survive. As Robert Frost said, we still have "miles to go before (we) sleep" but we will eventually turn this corner. That is inevitable regardless of how difficult this is to comprehend now.

The question that remains is not what will this teach us but what will we remember? How will this shape us? Something is attempting to teach us a lesson, forged in adversity that is requiring us to strip away non-essential things in order to survive. The price is being paid, but what will it purchase? Whatever it is, however this ends, we owe it that much to hang onto what this experience is showing us right now.

Keep your receipts, folks. Stay safe and healthy.

Half, but whole.

Six months ago, I took a major risk when I left a career of fifteen years with the world's largest retail mortgage lender and walked away from everything that was familiar and comfortable. In hindsight now, it was not a risk nor was it difficult; it was the easiest decision that I have ever made.

In 2016, my son was five and a half years old and he was becoming aware of the living situation his mother and agreed on when we divorced over six years ago; he was spending about sixty five percent of his time with her. You see, I made a decision when we first separated to take a leadership position that paid more money instead of staying in my current position and taking on a 50/50 time schedule. My thinking was I didn't know how child support would impact my income and that there were more ways to support a child, aside from time. My God, was I wrong. I live with few regrets and that decision is one of them. I traded precious time with him for a more solid career and have regretted that decision from the first time he expressed frustration with our schedule.

The moment that frustration was born in him, I tried to make a change. Coupling together the logistics of living in Brighton (where he attends school) and working in Detroit along with the scheduling demand of being a leader made it impossible to adjust my schedule to accommodate more time with my son. Irony set in; the promotion I chose now stood in the way of what I wanted. I knew years ago that I would have to leave Quicken and began to financially put myself in a position to do so. I made difficult sacrifices to get myself debt free to 'afford' to leave; drove the same car for 7 years, the most elaborate vacation I've taken has been to Florida or Arizona and I've rented modest accommodations since my divorce. I stayed in touch with and had worked with a recruiter for almost two years at my new employer to find the right position.

Finally, the stars aligned this past Spring. My financial prudance and persistent employment prospecting finally hit pay dirt. I was not only able to afford leaving a higher paying job but found an opportunity with an organization that is innovative, aligned with much of my leadership style and has some need for what my professional experience has taught me.

I am painting a picture of the past few years of my financial and professional decisions to express to you what that has yielded today and it is an absolutely heart fulfilling masterpiece. This week, Knox's mother and I officially kicked off our 50/50 time schedule and I gain an additional day per week with my son. All of those difficult decisions, the social awkwardness of saying no, the adversity of a past romantic relationship from passing on fun excursions and discipline of maintaining that all seem so simple now.

I will never understand men who walk away from their children and half-ass fatherhood. I want nothing to do with the weight of passing up time with one's own legacy. I have fallen in love with being a father at a level of repetitiousness than will never become absurd to me and now I can double down on it. Half of my life moving forward will be spent as the greatest thing that was ever bestowed upon me, being Knox's father.

Life is good and my heart is full; half of my life will forever be his.

Over Before It Began

Previously I have blogged about the experience I have had with the search for my biological mother and where the status of that reunion lies. I say "reunion" in hope of it coming to fruition one day but the reality is that every passing day/week/year is another nail in the coffin of its reality. That blog was written 3.5 years ago on my birthday and can be read HERE

Before I expound on that, you must know that much of this is to be taken with a grain of salt and that I don't know how the actual narrative goes. There's a long story but there are rumors of me being a black market adoption, my father actually knowing of my mother's conception and that Michigan/USA was the foreign "dumping ground" of their illegitimate child for a morally questionable decision they might have made. Then, they would leave the US and return home.

Now, while my biological mother remains silent on her end of the Atlantic, it never sat well with me that Catholic Social Services (CSS) never attempted to search for my father. They said his name is the American equivalent of John Smith, there is no date of birth, no social security number and no military record. A "dead end" they said. This never sat well with me because based on the rough timeline we can establish from what my mother had said versus the fact that immigration records are kept, my feeling was that there must be something. Perhaps that was wishful thinking.

I opened the case back up with the court and was appointed a new confidential intermediary (someone who can review the records and is sworn to secrecy). After a really good conversation with a few folks, they said they would look into it and let me know. A few weeks ago I got the call and they confirmed what CSS  had said; there was not enough information to begin a search. He will remain lost to me, for now. That search was over before it began; the title of my blog tonight.

If I am honest, I hate this. I hate being juxtaposed by how much I absolutely love being a father to my son and how much of a coward my mother is for leaving a dial tone on her end for a decade. I am slowly beginning to accept the possibility that I am a product of either two immoral people or two good people that made a bad decision in the face of adversity. I get the sense that meeting me one day is less about explaining to her partner and family that I exist and more about the shitty decision she may have made a long time ago. Maybe I am wrong.

The top priority for being a parent is to mold a child to do life better than you did. You brought that babe into this world as the product of two people's love for one another and set them out to achieve more than you did. Perhaps even though I was discarded, my existence can still succeed in that purpose. Perhaps if I am able to pay that forward and my son is a better human being than I, then the cycle my biological parents started with my conception and abandonment is broken.

Then again, perhaps my perception is completely wrong and my mother is just scared. This is the crux; speculation. I have next to no knowledge so I have to ponder in a speculative way of rumors, old documents, court intermediaries and conversations ended by the other person. This unique scenario is what I was forged in and am ironically proud of. Without this backstory and speculative past, I would not be this dramatic, emotionally tormented, expressive, apathetic, boisterous idiot that many of you have come to know and some to love. It hurts sometimes but it is what I think anyone from any circumstance could feel. This pain is not exclusive to me. We are all haunted by something and this process of me being shut down served as a reminder to that. What now?

Let's just pick up the pieces, keep moving forward and see what we find on the way together.

Invoking Mother Nature

I sat down tonight to get some thoughts put together for a blog entry and realized it has been over one year since my last entry. Shame on me.

In previous years I have set out to understand something about myself, become personally aware of whatever that ends up becoming and then trying to embrace and understand it. This year I am taking a much different approach.

You'll have to excuse me for a moment because I will sound arrogant in the next paragraph. I will then use that arrogance to ironically humble myself with what it reveals. By now you should know that I simply cannot resist invoking the contradictive nature and inherrant beauty of a paradox.

When you are a white male who is good looking, well spoken, charismatic, approachable and genuine there are a lot of wheels that those qualities will grease. Being frank, I get away with a lot; things that I have spouted off about, an abhorrent amount in relationships, within my circle of friends and even in many cases, with my own family. I am not someone who has had to work an incredible amount for what I have. Sure, I have put in a fair amount of work but I cut corners with a wink and smile much more than I have cared to admit before today. The moment I understood that, I instantly hated myself for how much I have abused it.

I realized I wanted to rewire myself a bit to keep my nose the grindstone a little more than I do to procrastinate. I have had many incredible people as mentors but this year I am turning to a much more classic example; mother nature. I have often had a fascination with the outdoors; camping, hiking, hunting and fishing. However, I have not prioritized these activities enough.

Few of the qualities I mentioned before that I have leveraged in my time are worth a damn in the woods. They do not accelerate the learning curve of the angler, they will not bring game from the field to your table any more efficient than without them, a rough hiking day with a goal of 10+ miles does not recognize charm, only grit. Lastly, allow me to wax poetic in a truly dramatic and over-romanticized fashion; a silver tongue may kindle a fire in a woman's heart but it will fail to nurture a fire in a cold, wet-soaked environment. Only experience and perseverance can accomplish that.

I say all of this to point out that if you happen to wonder why a single, soon-to-be 40 year old man has a sudden upswing in outdoor activities it is not because I am in some existential funk nor a mid-life crisis. I am simply forcing myself into environments to develop a better way to deal with adversity. Also, I chastise society and children today for the over consumption of electronic media (and have been guilty of it myself) so it can't hurt to put the TV remote down and pick a back pack up.

As the weather breaks, I will look forward to not only the lessons learned in the remainder of this year but also to the friendship bonds that will strengthen and the positive residual affect of creating wonderful memories with good people. I will see you in the woods!