The Misadventures of Mile High Greg

If we line up all the shitty events in my life in the order of their shitty magnitude, I would say the 2015 Breakup Incident is a distant second behind the 2020 Coronavirus Fuckery. The difference was that the 2015 Breakup Incident was essentially the "We need to talk" moment combined with me trying to reassemble myself, knowing that the worst had already happened.  The 2020 Coronavirus Fuckery is like every governor, mayor, and world leader saying "We need to talk" about twenty times a day for days and days and days and days on end followed by me trying to reassemble myself with a growing anxiety over the fact that the worst thing that could happen is still largely unknown. The thing that helped me find a place of recovery after the 2015 Breakup Incident was that I was able to find clear meaning in what had happened.  I knew after many years of false starts and doubt that I needed to finally act on my desire to leave Las Vegas.  Productivity became a coping ...

I've wanted to write something to express my feelings about the current situation.  I've started to plan out what I've wanted to say numerous times only to stop myself.  Why would anyone listen to me?  As a collective, I think we have reached a point of saturation when it comes to information and feelings.  I am starting to wonder if there is a contest for being the most coronavirus-pious and if I am somehow losing because I haven't changed my Facebook profile picture to a slogan about staying home or that I haven't shared a tutorial about how to fashion a mask from a discarded Doritos bag and a pair of broken earbuds.  (Mind you, these are both serious things, but they are at the end of my patience scheme.) I care.  I want this to end.  I'm also ungodly worn out over a situation that feels like it has no end.  I've always thought that inspirational quotes were pure bullshit, not because I believe in constant negativity, but I was always ...

It’s September 2. It’s the fourth anniversary of the “We Need to Talk” conversation with the ex-boyfriend. The fact I remember this means I probably should be berated about moving on. (This is sarcasm.)  It’s not like I put a recurring event on Google Calendar that says “Remember Shitty Ex” on this date from here to eternity.  It’s more like small details bring back the memories. It used to be a barrage of anger, now it’s more remembering the rawness of the emotions I felt.  I’ve learned through my professional work to help children that triggers that lay just under the surface are part of the nature of trauma. I’ve now recognized that my trauma is valid, despite being continually told to “move on” in ways that were both well-meaning and ways that  showed a complete lack of empathy. “Move on” became a loaded phrase to me, but I could never quite explain why. About six weeks after the break-up, my boss at the time called me to essentially chastise me for being...

The concern troll has arrived!  I recently snapped a funny picture of a brewery sign while out for a run and put it in my Instagram story.  Someone replied, "Stop joking about beer.  It causes all your body problems.  You might be amazed at what would happen if you put in just a little more effort to be healthier." I think every person with body and weight struggles has met the concern troll at least once.  “I’m worried about you. You know, if you just (exercised more/tried a little harder/ate less), your problems would all be solved.” The reality is that the intentions behind these types of comments are tone deaf at best and really cruel at worst.  This is my list of advice to the concern trolls: WHAT I EAT AND DO ISN’T YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS: It’s almost as if any fat person has to demonstrate that they are surviving on a diet of air, celery, and water to prove that they are worthy of not being judged.  Go out for a friend’s birthday or occasio...

Intention is important to the message. However, when the intention isn’t clear, the receiver of the message is going to fill in the details. Honestly, I’m not sure if I would be offended if a diet bar came with my order of XXL t-shirts. I’m often hungry after work when I get my mail, so I might be excited for a free snack. At the same time, being a larger gay man, there is a long history of trauma associated with my body and my weight. I feel as if it’s important to mention the gay male part here, as it plays a role in these past traumas, and research in body issues and eating disorders highly suggests I’m not alone. I’ve had some really horrible things said and done to me that were directly in response to my weight. It fueled my healthy desire to be a runner. It also fueled an unhealthy relationship with food and disordered eating that has taken me seeking professional help to improve. I still receive comments about my weight that are direct and nasty. Back in January, a...

This is an official and largely comprehensive list of things that cause me anxiety: 1. I somehow leave the shower or sink on and leave the house for an extended period of time, coming home to a flood, 2. One or both of my headlights are going to go out when I’m driving and the police will somehow find all the cocaine I have been transporting in my car, despite the fact I’ve never used or sold cocaine and I’m unsure of how I would obtain it even if I wanted it. 3. I am going to get bit by a rattlesnake while trail running or hiking. 4. Kaiser Permanente will refuse to cover the medical expenses from said bite and I will end up living in a dumpster. 5. If I ever become famous enough to publish these blog entries as a book, Kaiser Permanente will sue me over number 4. 6. That the cute, but likely straight guy I am checking out at the bar will catch me in the act. 7. That the cute, but likely straight guy I am checking out at the bar will catch me and turn out t...