Mark - 32

It was a bright summer's day. The sky vibrant and the temperature a perfect lukewarm. The city around is bustling with energy and the only resonance of life I can track is the feeling of my heart in my throat. For what I am about to do changed who I am forever.

I am grateful to say that I grew up in what many would describe as a healthy household till the age of 12. I had two parents, a sister, a dog, living the idealized life of western suburban living. My Mom always did the best she could to keep the household functional, my Dad worked harder than I thought humanly possible and my sister and I could live out our childhood dreams.

This was all well and good until my sister faced her first tragic heartbreak. A boy of course. Like a lot of teenage girls, she overinvested in the cost of love. She stretched her heart so far that the pain of losing such love directed her into the dark world of addiction.

My family, not having been met with or remotely understanding what addiction entails, was now in the grips of a disease we had zero tools for.

The stealing began followed by threats for money owed. My home which once felt like a sanctuary transpired into hostile territory physically and emotionally. My Mom chose alcohol, my Dad work, and I escaped through video games, porn, and isolation.

As the years went on my yearning for safety never came to fruition and what developed was a numb, vigilant, fragmented version of my being. I learned the skill of mediation amidst contention. I learned how to precisely navigate people’s emotional states and say what they wanted to hear. I learned the art of empathy, nuance, and gaining perspective of others. Most disappointingly, I learned how to disassociate where I was amongst it all.

My environment being in constant fluctuation led me to believe that as long as I can make what is outside of me safe, so will I. This external orientation towards life served me very well. I moved out, got a girlfriend, created an abundant social circle, and began a career that invoked passion.

Outwardly life seemed to be on track, but lurking in the shadows was a familiar feeling of disconnect. I could be in a room plentiful of people to find the most intimate emotion being one of loneliness.

I recall across the three categories of my life that professionally, relationally, and romantically I was labeled as steady. A stable anchor.

At the time I was pleased to be that person for others, to be someone people could count on, much like I did for my family in times prior, but you can only resist the river for so long before the erosion begins.

As the pressure compounded my once safe external environment that I spent years delicately crafting started crumbling around me. It started with my friends and ended with my relationship.

A relationship that spanned nearly my entire twenties. This wasn’t the first time though. We had our disagreements and even ended our relationship once prior for nearly a year before rekindling. This time was different however.

We got a dog, purchased a home and were less than three months away before committing to each other in marriage. The stakes were high, and we both knew it.

We were at a crossroads. Not for harsh words or abuse, but for one heart wrenching truth. She loved another man - and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

That didn’t stop me from trying however. I buckled up, quieted the voices and put on my nice guy mask. I wanted to understand exactly how something like this was possible. How could our relationship have gotten here?

Recalling from my years of experience between my parents and sister I leaned into my honed skill of mediation. A familiar dissociative effect veiled over my consciousness as I witnessed my partner of eight years slowly drift away.

It started with over hearing phone calls to eventually being asked questions that no person in a committed relationship should tolerate. I did.

I became unrecognizable to myself. I despised the man I saw in the mirror and the spiral of self hatred became loud. A day didn’t pass when I wouldn’t shame myself or make it out to be that I was deserving of such pain.

This fragmented version of my being became my default mode, but I was in for a shake up. My Dad, whom I had grown apart from, was coming into town for a business trip and staying with me.

After a few hours of initial small talk my Dad turned to me with a sincere look in his eyes and said, “Mark, your Mother and I are worried about you. I don’t want to press, but how are you really doing?”

I had shared only surface level details with them up until this point without an ounce of emotion behind it, but that question. It broke me. For the first time in 16 years, I opened up to my parents’ support. The tears and pain could not be held any longer and like a skyscraper on stilts my wall came down.

I opened up about everything. My childhood, my resentments, the anger I had towards them, and most importantly the details of what was really happening in my relationship. My Dad looked at me, watery eyed and said, “Mark, I’m sorry.”

We both broke into tears followed by the most loving embracement I’ve ever shared with my Dad. He showed me what I refused to look at. Love.

He showed me that above all else you are deserving of love and nothing less. That day remains imprinted in my soul.

The impact of that was so strong that it led me to the very thing I was most terrified of.

And this brings us back to that summer’s day. For that day wasn’t like any other, I was ending my relationship. I wasn’t ending it because I hated who I was in it with, or for the pain I had allowed it to cause me. On that July summer's day, I took a leap not out of fear, but out of the newfound love I had found inside myself and for the first time I learned what it meant to take an active role in choosing one’s life. And on that day, I chose me.

Music - Mark's music choices during our photo session included Hiatus Kaiyote, Gregory Alan Isakov, Tool, Henri Texier and Sturgill Simpson.