Los Angeles, I Am Yours/California Stars

“Los Angeles, I Am Yours/California Stars”

In the fall of 2010, a feeling that had been quietly rising within me for some time finally became too much to ignore. In a brief moment of courage and/or insanity, I decided to walk away from a prospering career, amazing friends, a loving family, and life in the only state I had ever known. My reasons for making such a decision were numerous, but I ultimately made the decision to answer some profound questions about myself. I needed to know who I was and who I wanted to be. I needed to discover some truth and test my limits. I needed to build a life lived on my own terms. At the age of 27, I no longer thought I could discover those things in Oklahoma. In my mind, only self-reliance could deliver me to some sense of truth. Six years later and at the age of 33, I have come to the sense and acknowledgment that I was correct. The greatest test of my short life has delivered the most fantastic results. Now, with someone standing by my side, we find ourselves needing this kind of test once again. 

Living in Seattle and working in Kent, I discovered new friends, work, organizations, and adventures.

My Pacific Northwest friends have become my family. Not a day passes me by without thinking about those I loved who are still back in Oklahoma. Every day, I miss out on weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, and family gatherings. In the last six years, the telephone and social media have become a window into a world I no longer get to experience on a regular basis. In an effort to fill this void, I made new friends. The people who I have met here couldn’t have been kinder or more welcoming. They’ve welcomed me into their homes, invited me to eat at their table, cried with me, laughed, and helped me celebrate. They were friends and family when my friends and family couldn't be here. The love they gave me is immeasurable. My solemn hope is that I have been half of what they have been for me.

My work at Kent Youth and Family Services has been the most important of my life. In six years, we’ve raised nearly $1.3 million from 2,000 donors and impacted the lives of nearly 1,000 youth and families. Those are numbers, stories, families, and faces that will stay with me wherever I go. The impact I have had on them pales in comparison to the impact they have had on me. Beyond the actual work, I must thank my fellow employees, especially my boss, Mike Heinisch. For six years now, I haven’t been directed. Rather, I have been mentored, encouraged, and challenged. I was made to feel like an equal and a valuable part of the KYFS family. For those lessons, I will be eternally grateful. To my KYFS family, you have been there since day one. You have offered a shoulder to cry on, countless words of advice, and appreciation. Again, it is my solemn hope that I was able to give half of what you have given me.

The organizations I found myself a part of have had a profound impact on me. As I publish this, I find myself as the President of the Rotary Club of Kent, Chapter Adviser for the Beta Beta Chapter of Pi Kappa Alpha at the University of Washington, and a board member of the South King Council of Human Services, as well as Theatre Battery. When I moved to Seattle, I made a conscious effort to give back to my community. I wanted to use my time and talents to make a difference. In my mind, my work at a nonprofit wasn’t enough. I needed to practice what I preached. These organizations have provided that opportunity. They have groomed me, shaped me, believed in me, and prepared me to be a better leader. Beyond the experiences, they have given me some of my best friends in the world. Honestly, leaving them is the hardest part of this decision. I can’t help but feel as if I am abandoning them and leaving at a critical moment in time. Despite how I feel, I find solace in the knowledge that all of them existed before me and all will stand long after I am gone. My solemn hope here is that I made a difference in their lives because I know they have transformed mine for the better.

My adventures in Seattle were without compare. The majesty of the Olympics and Cascades will inspire me for the rest of my life. I will never ever forget hiking amongst their trees, streams, and mountains. They changed me for the better. My activities outside of work here included hiking, photography, reading, writing, cinema, and much more. Here, I found new passions and opportunities. Each one of these experiences made me fall in love and discover new things about myself. Being in love with who I am wasn’t necessarily a feeling I always possessed back in Oklahoma. In Washington, I found like-minded people, I came out, and discovered Buddhism. I advanced my education and gained a Master’s degree. I’ll never be able to repay what this state and its people gave me. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Finally, I fell in love in Washington. Without a shadow of a doubt, I want to spend the rest of my life with Brandon Reaves. He is the first thought that enters my mind in the morning and the last thing as I fall asleep. I would do anything to make him happy. I would move to Los Angeles for him. When he said he needed something new, a new life, new schools, new friends, new chapters and to start over, I could relate. Those same feelings led me to Seattle. I firmly believe we all deserve a chance to begin anew, test ourselves, and discover hidden potential. Within Brandon, I see someone who can one day be a fantastic executive chef. He can own restaurants and contribute massively to the culinary world. In fact, when I think of his potential, it takes all that I have to contain my joy and pride.

So, when Brandon hinted at needing a change of venue, it set off a year’s worth of conversations. We’ve discussed family, friends, work, and commitments. We’ve discussed the process of moving and starting over. We’ve discussed how to keep our relationship strong and thriving. We’ve discussed my needs, as well as his. We’ve discussed it from every angle conceivable. Then I remembered some advice my mother once gave me. She once told me that we are given certain opportunities in our romantic relationships when we will be asked to support our partners no matter what. They may need to move. They may need a new job. They may need to go back to school. They may need to start over. They may not be able to put what they need in words but we are tasked with supporting and saying yes if we possibly can. Remembering my challenges before moving, I have decided to say yes. Los Angeles, I am yours; the California dreams will be attempted by me. 

Leaving the aforementioned behind isn’t easy nor is it a decision we make lightly. But I would do everything in my power to put a smile on my partner’s face. His happiness is mine. I also know Seattle and its people have given me everything I need to do this again. While it is impossible to say goodbye without some sense of loss, I will do so knowing all that has been given and all yet to be received. All I can say now is thank you from the bottom of my heart. Every person I have met here will always be with me. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Be good to each other, 

-Nathan 

Write Me Down

Write me down, he said. He was accidentally poetic, as he so often is, but this time I pointed it out. I walk around most of my nights and days in poetry, and it felt good not to be alone. He wants to be a writer, not realizing that much of our conversations—written and otherwise—is some of his most brilliant work.

Write me down, he said. But I don’t know if I’m brave enough to actually say to him what I want and need to. He’s at least half of my bravery. We met at my absolute worst and still he chose to keep me. He saw the real me, a horrible mess, pretending to be my best, and still sat in a small town front yard and talked football and we had a couple beers. We still haven’t stopped talking. Others take credit for us—whatever that means—and I suppose we just let them. I know he’s the reward for everything bad I survived. He’s the answer to the question why.

Write me down, he said. I’ve wanted to ask him not to leave countless times. I’ve wanted to stay every single time I HAVE left. I rarely touch him because I know once I start I probably won’t stop. He is the definition of friendship. The definition of respect. Of fun. Of composure. Of humor. Of bravery. He is the definition of love.

Write me down, he said. This is the scariest and maybe most exciting time in both of our lives. I’ve learned to let go, but I kept him. Our relationship has changed over the past seven years, and although it’s scary to think I might lose him one day, I learned it’s possible to trust another person again. Not in a single day, but in a thousand days and a million ways. I guess I gave him little tests early on, which was unfair and immature and had nothing to with him. But I stopped quickly because he never once failed. We both have no idea where exactly we’re going or how we’ll get there, but if my life doesn’t end up with me sitting on a front porch with him or taking a random vacation, then I have not lived right.

Write me down, he said. I don’t know how. Words have power. Sometimes I say too many; in his case I say too few. Things changed a few years ago, but not in a bad way. I miss it sometimes, but I proved to myself that no matter what, he’s my best friend. He’s my Person. For everything that means and adds to my life, I can adjust. I’ll lose sleep and secretly cry, but I can adjust.

Write me down, he said. He’s a North Star. Not just for me, but in a chaos-filled life like mine and his—although most don’t know about his—we all need one. He is why I love compasses. Directions don’t change. So while he overanalyzes and stresses out and thinks I don’t know the occasional internal meltdowns and aching loneliness he feels, I’m just praying and hoping the Universe reminds him that I’m a short drive away, and there’s nothing music and a drive or a nap can’t temporarily fix for us.

Write me down, he said. Maybe it’s the Miranda Lambert playing. Maybe it’s because he’s leaving soon and I’m beside myself trying to figure out—selfishly—how I’m going to function on a daily basis. He has filled nearly every need I didn’t know I had. I have never been prouder to know a man, never been more comfortable or felt safer in anyone’s presence. I’ve never understood myself more than I do through his eyes and questions. For a woman who has lived this life I’ve been given, that’s the most important kind of feeling, and it’s not one anyone else has been able to provide. Words have power, and so does he. Thankfully he uses his for good.

Write me down, he said. If I could only say one sentence about him it would be this: the best, most loving word I know is Ace.          

-s. jensen 

Returning to the Scene of the Crime

I suppose many people have waited for me to write this story. Except it isn’t a story—it’s a piece of my life. My December. And it’s not only mine. It belongs to a mother, a brother, nephews, a church family, to friends, to students, and a real family. I’ve kept it mine alone because I’m private, yes, but also to protect their grief and their healing. I understand we all heal at different paces, and I’ve been stuck in anger, and never once felt denial. Because I was there. I still refuse to reveal details, so if that’s what you’re looking for, it simply isn’t here. If he wanted details revealed, that would’ve happened. He was the absolute best writer I’ve known.

This is my time to be selfish. I’ll leave the others alone.

I still hold my breath when I see the lights hanging down the buildings down Automobile Alley. I wonder how anyone can not know east from west, because that’s how the ambulance got there a little bit faster. I no longer jump when a car backfires. I have only smelled gunpowder once since a December several years ago and I can’t comprehend how it’s perfume to some. I don’t judge you for that, and I hope for the same consideration.

I respect and uphold the Constitution, including the Second Amendment. But if we can’t have a reasonable conversation about guns and safety and America, should you own one? A man I respect as much as anyone else owns an AK. I don’t. I’ve never even shot a BB gun. I don’t because I know I could shoot a person trying to harm someone I love, including Thunder Dogg. Including me.

I don’t own one because I watched a man die by gunshot wound as I begged for him to hold on for just a few more minutes, and I wish that horror on no one. Those images never leave.

So as the world hears Joy to the World and Jingle Bells and O Holy Night, please look around to see those holding back tears. We can’t all fake it for a whole two months. Sometimes we need to be held and to simply hear What Child Is This.

Because it’s us.

s. jensen

12/20/16

Kids

I’m sorry I’m leaving you. But you have to know a few things before I go. Maybe I’ve watched too many inspirational movies and read too many books to think you might come across this one day. Or maybe I’m being selfish and thinking of two teachers who continue to change my life, simply by staying in it. I didn’t expect to like teaching kids your age. I thought you were too young. The most fun moments were when I watched you truly be young.  You might forget every fact about the Revolutionary War, that’s fine. Look it up. But know a few things as you start 6th grade.

I’m not leaving you. I don’t have the skills to teach math. I just don’t. I’m working on that, and I beg you to speak up if you’re lost in any class, especially that one. I won’t just follow a teacher’s manual and then leave you to your own devices if you’re confused. I can’t.  Math is cool. Reading is cool. Me pretending to know something I don’t is not.

You are at a good school, and you can make it better. People will tell you who you are, and it’s polite to listen and decide who to trust. Show everyone who you are. Just as I had days when I wasn’t the best version of myself, you will too. But I saw the best of each of you at some point. El Chapo and Steph Curry and Rihanna and even Lionel Messi are no one to try to be. You’re already here. Do something with it.

Choose your people and keep them. If they turn out to be wrong for you, to be less than kind, loyal, and respectful, waste no time in moving on. Life is not meant to do alone—not in 5th grade or 6th or high school or for grown-ups.  There are more good people waiting to walk beside you as you figure things out. Walk away from the ones who don’t fit or can’t love you hard enough.

You taught me how to ask for help as much as anyone else ever did. I needed to be necessary. No amount of compliments and love from my huge support system could fix what was broken in me. You, with your backpacks and writing notebooks and even your fighting tears gave me direction. Our soccer field may have not had nets or lines, but you brought me out of a darker world into a new one out there. You gave me light no one else could.

For being distractions, investigators, listeners, learners, supporters, and protectors, I will always remember how it felt to be called Ms. Jensen the first year. Please try not to worry too much about the presidential election. You’re 11, and you understand the Bill of Rights. There is no wall unless you let there be.  Kanye ‘s right about one thing-- no one man has all that power. We’re all going to be okay.

Peace,

Ms. Jense

To Memorialize

All around this world, people are grieving. They grieve for the loss of family members, friends or maybe people they have never met, yet have watched from afar. They grieve for what might have been and the potential unrealized. They grieve, because to do so is human. This is not a post about how to grieve. I would never be so presumptuous about such an internal process. We all process loss differently. For me, I’ve always taken a logical approach. “He battled depression.” “He went to war with drugs.” “She couldn’t reconcile religion and sexual identity.” Others take an emotional approach. Both of us are looking for meaning in a pile of things that are often unknowable. This too is human. This too is part of the process.

No, this is a post about honoring the dead. This is a post about memorializing their memory. When we do, it should never be about drawing attention to ourselves, unless we can do some good. Case in point, this November, I will celebrate my 32nd birthday. On November 3rd, it will be the one year anniversary of my brother’s passing. I fully intend to give up my birthday to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I will use my brother’s story in an effort to inspire others and draw attention to a cause far too many of us are afraid to talk about. I feel that is my obligation. I feel like that is something I could do to honor Lucas’ memory, because if I knew him well, he wouldn’t want anyone to experience the pain he felt.

Now, I will begin the process of raising money to hopefully do some good. My goal is not to participate in the endless feedback loop of likes, shares and retweets. I am not making this my mission to get “attaboys” or even sympathy. I am doing this, because I have a powerful story; one that could be used to do some good. I am doing this, because I am great at my job. I can raise money with the best of them. Putting these two things together, I think we can change and possibly save some lives. Again, it isn’t about the recognition. It is about using these talents of mine to honor my brother.

This is how I can memorialize his memory, because his death will always be with me. But, I just don’t want to remember his death. We, as Americans, spend way too much time thinking about death. We consume ourselves with that marker on headstones. I often wonder if we remember what consumed the dash in between. We build giant memorials and cover vast plots of land to honor death. I understand this mindset. I have visited those memorials. I have walked among those headstones. As I did and do, I feel sadness not for death, but for the lives we lost. When someone is taken from us, we lose their potential. I can continue that potential we lost on November 3rd by raising some money. It is the least I can do.

As I do, I will be building a memorial to honor life. I encourage you to do the same. Have you lost someone to cancer or gun violence? Did your wife fall on the battlefield? Was your son addicted to drugs? If so, build memorials to honor their lives. Run a race for cancer research. Advocate for smarter gun control. Get involved in returning soldier support groups. Donate to community based nonprofits who provide substance abuse counseling. As you do, you will honor the potential that has been lost and begin the process of working toward the ideal of ensuring that no more potential is prematurely taken from us.

I firmly believe, this life and all of its highs and lows should be celebrated. I also believe in the cliché that it is always darkest before the dawn. If we are able to weather the storm, our ability to unleash creativity and goodness on the world is almost unfathomable. To do so, more often than not, we have to build and sustain some empathy. As we do, we honor those lives taken too early, but we also possess the very true and real ability to change the world. Nothing is more powerful than someone who gives a damn, because they’ve been through hell.

Thanks for entering my world,

-Nathan 

Heartbreak Lessons

Life is about finding wins. These moments are an amalgamation of goals realized and dreams coming to fruition. We place these future markers in the sand with the expectation if we follow the right steps, work really hard, and are good to people, these things we hope for will be realized. But, what happens when our best-laid plans go awry? What happens when we don’t get the job? Our offer on a house is rejected? That special someone says no? How we deal with this disappointment says as much about us as how we deal with the victories. I believe, we, as human beings, need our hearts broken from time to time. While I wish with my heart of hearts these moments were fleeting and didn’t come at you with successive force, there is still value in having to find other ways to win.

These moments in time force us to put the pieces back together. Analyzing our lives is important. While not getting this or that job has been disappointing for me, stepping back with fresh eyes I have realized a lot about myself. I do need more experience hiring and firing people. I need more experience leading teams. I need to spend some more time researching ways to get involved with the issues I care about. These lessons were hard to learn and their repetition is tiring, but the pieces picked up helped me find new leadership roles with my work and within the groups where I volunteer. I’ve started seeking out opportunities to sit on hiring committees. My focus has been sharpened, because of the disappointment. I keep fighting. Why? Because these things that are close to my heart, I believe in them with every fiber of my being.

These moments also reveal our humanity. We aren’t perfect. There is no such thing as a perfect leader. We each have gaps and areas needing some attention. When we fail or come up short, we are provided with the opportunity to rally the troops, draw friends and family close and assess what to do next. I would be nothing without my support group. I think that is worth repeating. I would be nothing without my support group. While I struggle with confidence, anxiety, and internal/external frustrations, I know I am who I am, because someone out there loves me. We as humans should feel that love not only when things are going well, but also when times get tough.

Vulnerability is a powerful state. From time to time, we need to let our guard down and allow ourselves to be surrounded by those who love us. We have to let people in. We shouldn’t be afraid to seek guidance. This has been one of the hardest lessons of my life to learn. My independent spirit and this desire to not pass my burden onto others keep me from sharing. More often than not, when I pull back the curtain, I find the people in my life have a lot of wisdom to offer. When your heart breaks, you have been presented with a gift in disguise; an opportunity to soak up some wisdom.

Not every heartbreak in our lives equates to a tragedy, but these are perfect moments offering change. By ignoring this chance, we ignore the possibility to change, grow and learn. These possibilities should be the silver lining in our moment of weakness. We may not yet possess the tools to change, but the ground is fertile. We just need to be open to the experience, analyze the disappointment and surround ourselves with people who lift us up. When we do, we can become something new and better; that is the lesson here.

Thanks for entering my world,

-Nathan 

A Year of Curious Living

This is about more than resolutions I will never keep. This is about dedicating myself to an idea. Boldly questioning and taking advantage of new opportunities, are now guiding principles in a mission statement summing up the best of who I would love to be. My 2015 won't be consumed with weight, debt or how much I volunteer. While all of those aims are worthwhile, I want my year to be defined by curious living. 

But, what does this mean? It is about being unafraid and far from hesitant of the moment. Every day, new opportunities arise. A year of curious living is about recognizing those moments and seizing them. This is not about becoming a "Yes Man." Not everything that falls in my lap is worth my time. Rather, this is about living a life with my eyes wide open. 

To live this way, I have to take some big risks. I might move. I might travel. I might make that trip across the bar. To do these things, I have to respect the voice in my head that screams embarrassment. In 2015, I want to summon more bravery than ever before. 

And when I do, I will decide to be happy. No matter the outcome. 2014 was such a depressing year. It was filled with so many depressing moments, but it also possessed moments where I could have chosen my attitude. In this coming year, the choice is mine and I choose to be happy. 

Finally, this whole experiment is about being a little selfish. If the previous year provided any lessons, the biggest one had to be; my days are numbered and I am promised nothing. So, while I will continue to live by the creed of this life not being my own, I am also choosing to focus on my well being. My relationships, my health and mental well being are all going to be front and center. 

I have no way of knowing if this grand experiment will work, but it feels right. It feels like a natural progression. The hardest part will be changing my mindset and putting these things into practice. I am hoping you can help with that. 

Thanks for entering my world, 

-Nathan 

Person of the Year

I don’t know that it’s possible to choose one person of the year for last year. I’m here because of the people who love and keep me, and to single one out seems impossible. All serve such a unique and irreplaceable purpose. But today, I can’t help but think of how especially unique—even strangely so—one person is to me now, and how much he matters to so many. He was the person of so many years for me and maybe he couldn’t believe it then, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I call him the Artist Formerly Known As My Husband. It just came out that way one day, and unless I’m using his name, I shorten it to The Artist. I do this probably because it’s a music reference [although neither of us is much of a Prince fan] and because I don’t like the term “ex-husband”, although that’s technically what he is to me. To reduce all the good years of laughing and jokes and Friday night music dates to the clipped “my ex” felt, and still feels, cold.

So The Artist. He’s my Person of 2014. He’s my person of that year, even though I saw him very little those twelve months, and I think we’re both okay with that. We have to be. He’s got my vote even though we didn’t live together at all, and he’s no longer the first person I call when I need something. [But I do still call. I CAN still call. And so can he.]

I know that although I’ve been described as wise since I was very young, I know more about myself and about life now than I have at any other point. I didn’t show shit before. And one thing I know without a doubt is that there are times in this life that simply getting through it is an act of massive courage. I don’t know if that’s true for him right now. But I know that last year was a boxing match of epic proportions for us both, and we never once took it out on each other. There wasn’t a total knockout, and we both came out the other side. We’re scarred and sad and terrified but still backing each other up the entire match. It takes patience and respect and strength to end a marriage with the same amount—although a different kind—of love you went into it with. That doesn’t happen if both people aren’t fighting for grace.

It’s unlike me to be this public about such private matters, and I doubt I speak on it again. But those who love me have been kind enough to show the respect I’ve demanded, and for that I thank you. Please know it’s deserved. You’re not doing me a favor, you’re simply nodding your head or shaking hands with someone who knows how to say goodbye, how to be a gentleman, and who knew when to walk away and when to show the hell back up. May we all pay respect to people like that every time we meet.

Peace and love,

Stephanie

What Might Have Been

The people who matter enter our lives arriving by chance, fate, divine intervention, providence or whatever makes you the most comfortable. Over the course of my life, I have fallen for people with whom I knew there was no future. They were either too far away, in a relationship or retreating as I pursued. This trend has followed me for most of my adult life. 

Now, as I grow older and find myself longing for some sort of relationship, I can't help, but wonder about what might have been. I see the rings, families beginning, joy of children and I cannot help, but be selfish. 

I want those things. I don't want to be locked in the past. I don't want the feeling of my glory days passing me by. I don't want to wonder about what might have been. I want to be so present people can't help and see that I am future focused. 

Thanks for entering my world, 

-Nathan