New York City made me. It was the place that I was born. It’s where I learned to be direct. It’s where I learned to be skeptical and street smart. I can usually notice a scam from a mile away, which is good because my belief in people makes me gullible at times. But, my New York sensibility checks my gullibility. Yep, I said that. I have a gullibility-common-sensibility, checks and balances system sorta like the government.
Comedy made me. Whenever I wasn’t sure of things – be it a break up or where my career was going – I’ve had this community to return to and it has almost always been comedy. I know whenever there’s trouble in life, I can go and watch a good show and there will be comedians there that I can connect with. Real humans. Authentic peeps.
South America made me. My mother is Colombian. Nearly everything she did had an eye toward her family in the “old country.” Some of that was good. She has a deep sense of family. Some of that is bad. Why always care about what people think who are thousands of miles away and don’t always get your new culture? One of the most highlighted moments of my life was when my mother shipped me to Colombia and I went to school there for half of my junior year in high school. I’ll write about it soon, but I can tell you know – it shaped me a great deal. The same can be said for my time living abroad in the UK. Different, but similar.
My exes made me. I really can’t stand most of the people I’ve dated in the past. Dated for long time periods, I mean. I’m just that way. Once it’s over, it’s over and you’re sort of dead to me. That’s because if I commit, I put my whole heart into it. But, I will say my exes made me because they taught me to have higher standards for myself. I don’t think that was their intention. It was more like – I’d go through the break up and then realize, “Why was I taking that much sh*t for that long? I didn’t deserve that.” The relationships taught me to walk away when I’m not valued and all of THAT eventually led me to Wifesy.
Wifesy made me. Wifesy made me see that you can feel safe with another human being. They can support you fully. They can believe in you totally and they can love you completely. I hope I do the same for her because I’m forever grateful for what she’s given me.
My therapist made me. I went to the same therapist for ten years. She taught me that a lot of my feelings weren’t fraudulent, but instead – “dead right.” She taught me to trust myself and in myself. (I don’t know why that gets so beaten out of some people, but it does.) She built me back up again.
It’s okay, little guy, I’ve got your back…
My parents made me. They weren’t/ aren’t perfect. But, parenting is the hardest job in the world. So, I’d like to look at the good. For example, my dad is a workhorse. He built half of our house growing up from reading books. Literally, from reading books. He built most of the furniture that we used. We have a stained glass Picasso reproduction in the living room and an ornate hand-carved liquor cabinet both made by my father. Really the stuff that he has built and thought of is endless. He’s an “idea man” and I definitely get that from him. On the other hand, my mother is the life of the party. Always quick with a story, loved by all, and a social force. I always say that my father is my backbone and my mother my heart. I think that is right. I think those things made me.
My writing is still making me. I didn’t get to write much this week because I’ve started a new gig and -man- I missed it. I felt it for the loss that it was. It just reinforces how important writing has become for me over the last couple of years. It’s an integral part of my life. A “check in/ check within” place and I really, really enjoy it. Things may shift, well, they are shifting, so I’ll have to figure out a way to carve out time for it. Regardless, I’ll definitely figure it out. It’s become too important not to.
So, Sweet Mother is dying to know…
What made you?
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Photo creds:
feature-house, crying-boy, colombia
Sweet Mother 