It was in April 2023 that we made the decision of leaving social media. This wasn’t a decision we took lightly. After all, we had business profiles that we used to promote our books and engage with the TTRPG and writing community. However, social media was taking a mental toll. Even though we stayed out of any discourse, it’s very hard to avoid seeing a string of negativity, threats, bigotry, and griping even with a quick look.
We left Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, YouTube, and Pinterest. We previously gave our six-month check in. Here is our one year check in on how we are doing after leaving social media.
Improved Mental Health
Leaving social media has done wonders for our mental health. We are happier and feel more positive. The problem with a lot of social media is that you read so many negative stories, or see someone ganged up on by a bunch of strangers online. Even when you take no part in it, those memories still circle around all day.
I equate it to “doom scrolling” or watching the news too often. Because 99% of the things you see or hear will not affect your life at all. And yet you are exposed to them, and it makes you feel stressed. But when you remove that source of stress, you are able to clear the room for more positive thinking.
More Time
Social media does take up a lot of time, especially if you are self-promoting. You worry about trending topics, algorithms, engaging with others, and posting consistently. When we took that away, we had so much more free time!
Now we spend that time playing board games together, reading books together, and spending time outdoors.
Should You Leave Social Media?
That is up to you. For some, social media is their entire business and livelihood. It’s how they feed their families. And that is great. But for most, it’s simply a pastime. We saw far more book sales generated from our website here and ads on Amazon over social media. It no longer became worth it to us.
We would never go back to using it. And we are very happy that one year ago, we made the leap to give it up.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 25
We adopted Gamora at the start of 2016. We’d had Danaerys about half a year at that point. She was wild and rambunctious, so we thought it would be best to get another cat for her to play with. Our only stipulation was we wanted the new cat to be between 1-3 years old.
We visited a few shelters before finding our Gamora. A family that had had some internal upheaval needed to get rid of some of their cats. They told us her name was Cleopatra, which is strange because on the official documents her name was written as Esmeralda. And they gave us a purple harness saying she was harness trained. That didn’t seem to be the case, either.
Despite the mysterious origins of Gamora, we fell in love quickly. She was playful, talkative, and a lap cap. She was great at jumping and climbing, which Dany was not.
It took a long time for them to get along. We used several different integration strategies. But ultimately, a move to a new house forced them to share territory. Now, they are good friends.
Gamora the Explorer
Gamora loves the outdoors. We try to take her out on her harness, or without her harness under supervision, whenever possible. She loves to explore and even doesn’t mind the snow for a limited period of time. Dany hates the outdoors, so it’s been something fun and special to do with Gamora by herself.
Gamora the Needy
One of Gamora’s quirks is how needy and clingy she is. She seems to have separation anxiety, even if we are just outside without her. She will climb over everything to get to us. She’s grown quite famous for climbing door screens, meowing as loud as she can in protest at the situation.
Once, when we were integrating the cats, we used a baby-style gate to separate two rooms. Gamora was by herself on one side. She hated that we were not close to her. She climbed up and down the gate, meowing constantly. Finally, she jumped a literal eight-foot vertical jump to bypass the baby gates and land on the nearby couch. We were stunned by her athleticism. And quite vexed that she was an unstoppable cat.
Gamora the Tuna Thief
Once, I believe in 2017, I was preparing dinner for Dorian on his way home. Back then, he worked a later schedule than me, so I would get the meal ready. I was making a tuna and zucchini lasagna. Gamora loved the smell of tuna, so I had to usher her out of the kitchen a few times.
I turned my back on the tuna to start the oven. When I turned back around, Gamora had consumed one of the two cans I had out. I called Dorian.
“Gamora ate the tuna. I only had my back turned for a second!”
He laughed. “I’ll pick up takeout on my way home.”
Gamora the Escape Artist
The most infamous story of Gamora was when we were living in Colorado Springs. We had a three-story townhouse. The bottom floor was partially under the ground, as is the style in that area. Our townhouse had no air conditioning (also typical in that area of older builds) so we slept with the window cracked. The screen was there, so we weren’t worried about anything getting in or out.
At dawn, Gamora climbed off the bed and was smelling the screen. I was still halfway asleep when I heard Dorian shout.
“Gamora got out!”
“What?” I asked, frowning.
“She got outside!”
I twisted around to see she wasn’t by the window anymore. And that the screen had been pushed open. We hadn’t heard anything, meaning the screen had been broken at the edges this whole time and we’d had no idea.
Dorian pulled on his boxers and a shirt and leaped upstairs. I flung open the window and shouted for our cat. I realized then I was topless. Luckily, no one was outside. Quickly closing the curtain again, I yanked on some clothes and gave chase.
I heard Dorian shouting out on the front lawn. “Gamora! Gamora!”
As I raced into the living room, he walked back through the front door with a perplexed Gamora in his arms.
“Thank goodness!” I gasped. “Where was she?”
“Just outside the window.” He was out of breath. “She was just sitting there. I don’t think she knew what to do.”
We’ve always been so relieved that we didn’t lose her that day. Gamora is many things. She’s a talker, always meowing even when she’s in a room by herself. She’s energetic, running and jumping and sometimes tripping us with how excited she is. She is a troublemaker, always wanting to get where she should not and waiting until you turn your back to rebel. She’s also a loving cat, happier sleeping in your lap than doing anything else.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 23
A New Best Man
It was a sad set of circumstances that ended us up in Hawaii June of 2014. Dorian’s family was close with another family throughout his life. So much so that the other family’s son, Cameron, was like a brother to him. And when he was killed in December of 2013, it left a gaping wound in their lives.
Especially the life of Cameron’s older brother, who was in the Navy and stationed in Oahu. He had met a local woman and had a wedding planned. Cameron was supposed to be the best man. In honor of their friendship and family ties, the groom asked Dorian to represent Cameron’s memory and be the best man.
Dorian and I were only dating at the time, but we both planned to go. Not only to visit Hawaii, but also to show our love and support for the family.
Third Parties
We had a rough idea of where we would stay and what we would do while we were in Hawaii. But after a few months of planning Dorian’s parents, sister, and her then-boyfriend (now husband) decided they wanted to come, as well. Our trip got a bit hijacked. Dorian’s mother took charge planning everything. It was a bit frustrating, but we did have a lovely time with the whole family (even his usually bad-tempered sister) and his parents were kind enough to pay for the rental house we all stayed at.
My First Flight
This was my first time to ever be on an airplane. I get motion sick and I have ears really sensitive to air pressure changes, so I was feeling incredibly nervous. I remember getting on the connecting flight from Tulsa to Denver. The plane was tiny and I felt like I would throw up from nerves. Dorian fell asleep next to me.
It was scary at first, and the takeoff and landing hurt my ears. But overall it was an easy experience. We flew two hours to Denver, and then took a nine-hour flight to Oahu. I still remember how cool it was to see the Rocky Mountains under us (not knowing we’d end living next to them in six years), and seeing the California coast pass by under us.
Let’s put this trip into some perspective. Dorian’s family traveled a lot, though mostly to the same destinations. Colorado to go skiing. The Gulf Coast and the Florida Keys. And places like Arkansas for camping activities.
My adoptive family was travel-adverse. They hated anything that wasn’t Owasso, Oklahoma. I remember one trip to Sea World in Texas when I was little, and another accompanying my adoptive father on a work trip to Phoenix. But otherwise, the travel bug was all me, stemming from my biological family’s wanderlust.
Traveling to Hawaii was a huge deal! At the time, this was the biggest adventure of my life.
Traveling the Island
We were in Hawaii for a week. We stayed at this amazing rental house right on the beach. The owners had built that house back when no one lived there. But now it was worth a lot, so they rented it out and had their own luxurious house built right next to it. We got use of their private back porch and yard.
We visited so many places!
Pearl Harbor touring the USS Missouri Battleship
Beaches and restaurants at the North Shore
Botanical gardens to which I don’t know the name
A hiking trail by a lighthouse
The hiking trail in Diamond Head
Shopping in Honolulu
Paddleboarding and canoeing
We ate at this same restaurant for breakfast many times. Their pancakes were amazing. It was my first experience with macadamia nuts in pancakes. A love that has continued to this day.
The Diamond Head Hike
Diamond Head is a crater from a volcano. It’s really striking and beautiful. There is a park and hiking trail within. It was an arduous climb, though we were young then with plenty of energy!
One particular memory stands out. After the hike, Dorian and I were sitting in the park eating shaved ice. We saw an emergency medical helicopter fly overhead and up to the summit. We gave concerned remarks, when a local man turned to us.
“Yeah, people collapse up there a lot,” he said. “They’re not ready for all the stairs.”
We got to talking with him, and learned some fascinating things!
“It wasn’t always this busy, it wasn’t always a tourist spot,” he said. “I remember coming here as a kid and it wouldn’t be busy at all. Where are you two from?”
“We’re from Oklahoma, we’re here for a wedding.”
“I’ve been to Oklahoma! I actually moved over to the mainland and worked in a few states for some years.”
We laughed. “It’s much nicer here.”
He chuckled in response. “Yes. It would be the middle of summer in Oklahoma and I’d be working outdoors thinking to myself ‘why am I here? I could be on the beach!'”
Indeed. Why are we all anywhere when we could be on the beach? The beach is my happy place. Little wonder in 2023 we’d move to one.
The Wedding
The actual ceremony took place in a little chapel. It wasn’t big enough for everyone, so people were standing around. It was quite a charming and casual affair. However, the little chapel had no AC and it was June.
The poor bride kept fanning herself, saying, “It’s so hot! Can we hurry?”
The party afterward did have AC. We moved to a large event facility and had a great party! Hawaiin food, dancing, chatting, it was a great time! It is definitely one of my favorite weddings I’ve ever been a guest at.
Lost With No Bandaid
I’ve got one final story to wrap up our Hawaii vacation. A memory we look back on the most and laugh about. The entire family was signed up for surfing lessons. I am not a strong swimmer, but thought I’d be okay. However, after experiencing the ocean for the first time, I had doubts.
Worry gnawed at me the two-hour drive we took up to the North Shore. We parked by this fancy-looking building and Dorian’s parents went inside for us to check-in.
They came back out not looking happy.
“This is the wrong place,” his mother sighed. “This isn’t where we are supposed to have surfing lessons.”
His father looked sheepish. “I got the names confused.”
The depth of the mishap was much greater than it sounded. We were on the completely wrong side of the island. We had no chance at having our lessons.
I had another problem that needed my attention. I was wearing wet shoes and they’d rubbed the back of one heel raw. It was about to bleed, and I had no bandaid. When I asked if Dorian’s mother had one, she suggested we go into a nearby hotel and ask.
The hotel was called Turtle Bay Resort. Dorian and I walked inside. I went barefoot to prevent more pain. The lobby was absolutely gorgeous! It was all open-walled with views to the beach. We went up to one attendant.
“Hello,” I greeted politely and shyly. I worried about being turned away since we weren’t guests. “I need a waterproof bandaid. Is there one here?”
He bowed courteously. “Of course, ma’am! Please go to the shop over there, they will have what you need. Can I help you with anything else?”
Dorian and I were taken aback. He was so polite! We thanked him and got the bandaid. All the staff was so incredibly helpful and kind. I assume they were under the impression that we were guests, and that the guests that usually stay here are rich.
We’ve always said since then that one day we’d return to Turtle Bay and stay there.
Afterward
I remember returning from the trip and telling my adoptive family all about it, showing them photos.
My adoptive mother said, “I’m really glad you got to do something interesting like that one time in your life.”
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 22
Traveling has been a joint passion of ours. Everything from international adventures to local discoveries stirs our wanderlust and sense of exploration. We’ve always been big believers that you don’t have to be rich to travel. Though we have saved and spent money on some big trips (like our Caribbean cruise honeymoon), we also believe that traveling can be free or cheap depending on how you go about it. The great desire, after all, is to move and experience new things. That can either be halfway across the world, or a hidden discovery only 10 minutes away.
OKC – Broke and With a Coupon
Our first trip together was to Oklahoma City. We were young and broke. We were only able to afford a hotel with a Groupon online. We planned for only free activities. We saved up all our change and turned it into dollars at one of those machines to afford a nice dinner at a restaurant we’d heard about.
And you know what? We had a great time! We got a tour of a historic (and haunted mansion). We visited a military museum. We walked the downtown area around the botanical gardens. And we ate at a Cajun restaurant. We also kissed under the Skydance bridge at night. We’re romantic like that.
Route 66 Road Trip – Lost in the Country
We planned a day trip down part of Route 66. We set off from the statues in downtown Tulsa and out into rural Oklahoma. We visited a museum and a few other points of interest on our trip. At one point, Route 66 just jumped roads. I’m being literal. We were on it, and suddenly we weren’t. Our GPS told us to go over a few blocks to get back on Route 66. We ended up lost in a very rural town until we got back on track.
Dallas – A Loud Family Affair
Dorian’s parents enjoy NASCAR. They invited us to watch a race down in Dallas, TX. We’d never been to one. Though we didn’t watch NASCAR, it seemed like a fun opportunity to do something different. We took a long road trip south and ate at a German restaurant somewhere on route. When we got to the race itself, it was really loud and very smelly. But it was pretty cool, honestly. It was something different. We stayed at a hotel that night, getting back in at about 1am due to the crazy traffic.
Wichita – Friend Times
We have two friends that, at the time, lived up in Wichita, KS. We went to visit them for the weekend. They had a really cool apartment in a bustling part of downtown. We toured a museum, shopped at a local bookstore, and went to a comedy club. Just before that trip I fractured my foot and had to hobble around in a boot. It was in the middle of summer and blazing hot. We alleviated the heat with some ice cream made using nitrogen. It was great to see our friends and visit a new city!
Eureka Springs – Adventures in the Ozarks
We spent a weekend in Eureka Springs after a recommendation by a co-worker. It’s very touristy there, but it was a fun trip all the same. We visited a house made out of all rocks, a tiger rescue sanctuary, a statue of Jesus that sneaks up on you in the hills (I got startled!), and a very pretty church in the woods.
One of my favorite parts was a cave we got to explore where they get onyx. But a stand-out memory was riding a train up into the Ozarks. We paid extra to eat lunch on the train. The train went up to one of the highest peaks and stopped. We watched out the window while an entire cart of passengers got off. And then the train . . . went back to the city. I’m still not sure what became of those people or why they suddenly were abandoned in the mountains.
The Tallgrass Prairie Preserve – There is No Food
Pawhuska is still a very small town, but before Ree Drummond built her mercantile it was practically a ghost town. We went for one reason. To see the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve. We got a little ma and pa hotel where we called a number to find our key. Pretty much every restaurant had closed down, so we had to drive to neighboring Bartlesville for food (45 minutes away). The preserve was really beautiful, though, and we got to see many bison up close!
Misc Travels
We’ve done multiple small trips in our early years together. Too much to talk about here. We did a Color Run, went to conventions, saw dinosaurs, went on picnics, visited the Christmas Train in Christmas Village (which is no longer open, sadly), and pretty much devoured any new experience we could together.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 14
We both love cats. We grew up with a variety of pets in our households. Dogs, cats, birds, fish, baby chicks, and more. But when we first started living together and Dorian worked odd hours at the news station, we wanted a pet to keep me company at home. I had never owned a cat before despite advocating for years with my adoptive parents. Dorian had had many cats as a child. After adopting our first cat, it started a journey of rescuing one other cat to keep, as well as rescuing four others that got adopted.
The Cats We Kept
Danaerys
Dany was our first cat. In 2014 a friend on Facebook posted that his grandma found a kitten out on her farm and no other family with it. We drove to see the kitten and fell in love. After a quick stop at a pet store to get literally all the supplies to own a cat, we came back and brought her home. Dany has delighted us with her laziness, fear of heights, her enjoyment of zip ties and other trash that she deems to be toys, and a very cranky sounding meow.
Gamora
Despite her adult laziness, as a kitten Dany was quite the terror which led to her nickname Gato Loco. So we wanted to get her a friend to play with. We only had one parameter: the cat had to be between one and two years old. After looking at a few shelters, we found our Gamora in 2015. Though it took awhile for her and Dany to get along, now they are good playmates. Gamora has been a source of constant energy and zoomies, a lap cat that will seek you out as soon as you sit down, and a chatterbox.
The Cats That Got Adopted
The first cat we rescued but didn’t keep we called Prince Orange. This was in 2016, I can’t remember now where we found him. We were able to get in touch with a local no-kill shelter and offered him along with a sizeable donation for any care he needed. We were informed he was adopted to a family a week later.
I don’t have a photo of the second cat. It was another male orange, so I called him Prince Orange II. I saw him living in a sewer grate near my work. However, he was feral. With the help of a local shelter that loaned me a trap cage, I was able to capture him with food and bring him to them. Since he couldn’t go with a family, he was released onto a volunteer’s farm where he would be safer and live more comfortably.
The third was a very young cat I found wandering alone in an apartment complex by the trash bins. She was meowing and was very friendly when I came up to her. I took her home in my car. Unfortunately, the shelters were full. However, a friend of ours had recently lost their cat and were looking for a new one. They drove two hours to come get her and named her Cersei.
The final cat we helped was Prince Orange III. We found him on a country road not far from our house, looking confused. He was very loving and friendly and we brought him home. We were able to work with the same no-kill shelter to get him to a new family. This was the one we truly almost kept, because he was so incredibly sweet. He and Cersei were both in 2017.
We have always been advocates for animals and do what we can to volunteer and donate to animal organizations and shelters. One of my earliest memories of Dorian is him rescuing koi fish by hand from being stuck in a neighborhood drain that had run dry and racing them to his parents’ ponds (they are always happy to take on more animals). We love our Danaerys and Gamora and hope the other four cats we helped have long and happy lives!
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 13
In our last post we talked about the birds that nested each year in our front porch. Every spring they would build a nest and have babies. Across the summer the babies would fly off on their own adventures.
One year we had a terrible incident. Many of the birds fell out of the nest and onto the concrete. Once we noticed that they didn’t look good, we called a local wildlife rescue and tried to take the birds to them for care, but they passed away on the route. The wildlife rescue told us that sometimes when that happens, for that specific species of bird, the parents will stop taking care of them and they die. I remember just how sad I was, crying and crying over them.
So when, the next year, a single bird fell out of the nest, we knew we wouldn’t let that happen again.
We quickly put him into a box with towels and made sure he was comfortable. We sat the box in the tall bushes that were near the porch and in view of the nest. It was also a spot where we could watch him from the game room window and make sure he was alright.
We were so happy to see the parents attending to him! They visited him multiple times a day. As a couple of weeks passed, we ensured he was taken care of. When it rained, we brought the box to a chair on the covered porch to protect him. We ensured he always looked healthy. And we made certain his parents were still feeding him.
He grew up. Soon he started hopping about on the bush. Then he would fly around from branch to branch. And finally, one day he flew off on his own. I remember how happy we both were that we were able to save his life. It was a very rewarding experience.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 12
When we lived in our rural house, wildlife was aplenty. A week didn’t go by without the sight of a spider, a scorpion, or a snake. We hated it. But there was a benefit. Each year in the spring two birds would return to the nest they’d built on our vaulted front porch and raise their babies. It was fun to watch every year, and the birds never bothered us.
One spring I was in the restroom down the hall. Dorian was going to take out the trash. I heard the front door open and him shout in alarm. It was followed by the sound of intense bird screeching. The door immediately slammed shut.
What was that? I thought. Did the birds almost get inside?
I came out to find my husband by the front door. He looked at me with wide eyes.
“There is a snake on the front porch, and it almost got inside.”
“A snake?!” I was shocked. At this point, we’d only seen snakes on the neighborhood roads and not yet on our own property.
“Yes, come look!”
I looked out the window that was on our front door. A large, eight-foot black snake was halfway up the brick wall right next to our door. As we looked at it, we realized it wasn’t focused on us. It wanted the nest. The two birds were going crazy, flying around and screeching.
We banged on the door a few times, hoping to scare the snake off. To this day we’re not sure if our presence deterred it, or if it decided the nest was too high up. But a few minutes later it slithered back down and away.
We had two other encounters with snakes around the house in the time we lived there. One time another black snake (perhaps the same one as it happened not long after) was on our back porch near our patio furniture. We chased it away by spraying vinegar at it. The last time was one attempting to get into our garage while our cat was hanging out in there. That gave us a small heart attack, but her anger and us banging on the garage door scared it off.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 11
“You’ve got to see these railroad tracks,” John said. “They’re my favorite place to take photos at. It’s not far.”
His wife gave us a look. “He says it’s not far. It’s like three miles.”
Dorian and I looked at one another. It was the evening of 4th of July. We were spending the holiday with Dorian’s co-worker and rambunctious family. They lived out on multiple acres, and there were only grass fields as far as we could see.
“Sounds fun,” we agreed.
Dorian hadn’t been feeling well for a few days now. I’d ask him to see a doctor, but he didn’t want to and said he’d be fine. This was before we were married and even before we were engaged. It actually would be the next 4th of July that we’d take some Save the Date pictures at this spot with sparklers in hand.
But this year, we were up for an adventure with our friend. Jon and his brother led us away from the party and off into the sunset. We chatted as we waded through all the grass. Dorian huffed closer to me.
“I’m really not feeling so good, it’s hard to breathe,” he admitted.
“Do you want to go back?” I asked.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
It was a long walk, but we were in our early twenties then and had stamina to spare. Jon took us to the spot. The forest opened up in a gorge. A bridge crossed that gorge, topped by a railroad tracks. It was a really pretty sight. We took a lot of photos and admired the view.
“Oh look,” Jon pointed, “a coyote.”
Down below us we caught the briefest glimpse of a coyote dart into the tree line.
“Are there wolves around here?” Dorian asked.
“Oh yeah, I hear them howling at night,” Jon replied.
That made me nervous. The sun was almost completely set by now. We decided to head back in time to see the fireworks start. But we had only made it halfway before we heard the howls in the darkness.
“Those sound like wolves . . .” Dorian trailed off.
“Those are wolves,” Jon agreed “Let’s go!”
The four of us took off running. With a chorus of howls in our ears we rushed through the long grass and toward the safety of a gate we could lock behind us. As we neared it Dorian just stopped, dropping to his knees.
“I can’t run, I can’t breathe,” he panted. “Just go on.”
I grabbed him and hauled him up. “Absolutely not. Come on.”
I dragged Dorian through the gate as Jon locked it behind us. With that sense of relative safety, we went back to the party to enjoy the fireworks.
Dorian felt even worse in the days following until at last he gave in and went to urgent care.
He was diagnosed with bronchitis and put on a string of medication.
“Hmm,” he remarked thoughtfully. “I guess I really was sick.”
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 3
Dorian knew Cameron since they were both babies. Literally. There is a photo somewhere of the two of them, less than a year old, sitting in a driveway together. Their families were friends, and so they grew up as brothers.
Many days, nights, and weekends were spent together, mostly playing video games. They were both in band, and both had ADHD though Dorian didn’t know he had it at the time. They both ended up working at the same news station as young men. The two of them were inseparable, the best of friends, making each other’s lives better.
I knew Cameron from high school. He was in my grade, and we sat by each other during a few classes. We went to senior prom together as, well, something. Not really dating, but more than friends. We dated later that year, but only briefly.
Cameron is the one that introduced the two of us to each other, and for that we will always be grateful. It began with a “You should meet my best friend, Dorian, you’ll like him!” We hung out in group gatherings, and it led to us dating.
We began dating in 2013. I remember only a couple times that the two of us also spent time with Cameron and his then-girlfriend. I’m sad we didn’t spend more time together. Because in December of that year he was killed by a reckless driver on his way to college. He was 24 years old.
I still remember Dorian calling me and telling me what happened. He said, “Cameron’s dead.” My mind couldn’t process it. Dead? Just that? It should have been preceded by “injured” or “sick” or “in the hospital”. It was the longest, most confusing, most painful day.
That night I decided to go over Dorian’s family’s house to support him. My adoptive parents protested, saying they needed me here, but I knew I had to be with Dorian.
I spent a week at the house, staying in the same room with him, being his rock, helping communicate with friends and family. Everyone wanted Dorian to make big decisions on the funeral and other memorial events, but he was so emotional that the last thing he wanted was to speak to anyone.
We both attended multiple events together across the course of a couple of weeks. Dinner at Cameron’s family’s home, services, the funeral. And in the years that followed we attended court hearings for the woman that had hit him, who eventually ended up in psychiatric care.
Cameron was supposed to be the best man in his brother’s wedding in 2014. Dorian was asked to go in his stead. The wedding was in Hawaii, our first major trip together.
It’s been almost ten years now. We still get emotional about it sometimes. About what life for us would have been like if Cameron was alive. How intertwined our lives would be. When you endure abuse from friends and family, it stings much more knowing that one person who only ever treated you with kindness is no longer there to provide it.
But his memory is alive in our relationship. And we know that if not for him, there would be no us.
This is an autobiographical post. The names of people and places may be changed.
We decided to write autobiographical posts about the colorful life we have lived. There will be tales of sleeping in a campervan on the beach, of defending a bird’s nest from a snake, and of running away from wolves while sick with bronchitis. There will be tales of diagnosis with PTSD and ADHD and how it changed our lives, of meeting biological family, and of job loss. It’s a tale of overcoming challenges, of finding out who we are, of love, hope, cats, and of a marriage that’s gotten stronger through it all.
Autobiography Post 2
The Prom Introduction
It was time for senior prom. I was going with a young man from my math class named Cameron. There is not enough room here to talk about the impact he had on both of our lives, so the next post will be dedicated to his memory.
When it got closer to prom time, Cameron told me his friend that had graduated a year before would be returning for prom, going with a family friend.
“I can’t wait for you to meet him,” Cameron told me. “He’s been my best friend forever. You’ll like him.”
Prom was a chaos of music, dancing, and flashing lights. It took place in an aquarium, making for interesting scenery. I remember being on the center of the dance floor when a young man came up. He was wearing all white. Our introductions were brief, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment and chatting with our friends. I do remember one thing in particular.
“You did actually wear all white!” Cameron exclaimed.
“Yes, I did!” Dorian returned with equal enthusiasm.
Oh boy, this guy is really extroverted, I thought with a sigh from my introverted self.
The Renaissance Festival
It was only a month after prom that school was out. And for me, it was officially done. I had graduated, and in August I would be going to college. May was an exciting time, for it was when the annual Renaissance Festival came to the city for a month. As a lover of all things fantasy, I always spent way too much money there.
Cameron texted me with an invitation to go together. “You could also bring your best friend, Katy,” he had said. “And I’ll bring Dorian. You remember him? The guy you met at prom.”
I didn’t realize it then, but Cameron was crushing on Katy and wanted to date her. If I had known, I would have set them up! Cameron and I were only friends at the time, though we did date a couple years later.
It was nearly an hour drive to the Renaissance Festival, the four of us chatting in the car. I thought I was the strange one in my adoptive family, as the rest of them didn’t share the same enthusiasm I did for the festival. It was 12 years later, when I met my biological family, that I learned my grandparents regularly attended these types of festivals and often volunteered as the king and queen, making their own outfits. I knew I got it from somewhere!
As we browsed the festival, bought items, and had fun, we went to one minigame in particular. The type where you had to hit a hammer on a pedal and try to make a weight go up as high as it could. Cameron and Katy went first, both impressive in their strength. Especially Katy who is an eternal string bean.
It was my turn. I had done martial arts, so I felt somewhat confident in my strength. I swung the hammer down . . . and missed entirely.
I was embarrassed.
Dorian stepped up. He lined up, lifted the hammer, and brought it quickly down. And missed entirely.
I should have known then we’d get married.
Reaching Out
A couple of years passed, and I hadn’t seen Dorian since. Cameron and I had dated and lost touch. Katy had gotten engaged with someone later discovered to be abusive, but at the time she simply stopped talking to me. I was doing well in college, pursuing psychology. I was a senior and would soon be graduating. I wanted to get a full-time job so I could get my first apartment. The problem was, my adoptive parents kept having excuses for why I wasn’t allowed to work.
“You need to babysit your sister.” “You need to drive me to and from work.” “Why would you want to work when you could be home with me?”
I was getting restless. I wanted my own life. I was able to land an interview with a marketing agency that was looking for a good writer for an entry-level assistant position. It was a cold winter day when my adoptive father, Dee, drove me to the interview. It went well, and the next day I got a job offer. But the night before my first day of work, Dee came to me in my room.
“I don’t want you to work,” he said in his usual cold, emotionless tone. “You’re not going tomorrow.”
It was hard to keep my emotions in control when I had to call my would-be employer and tell them I couldn’t start. I barricaded myself in my room the next day (it had no lock), spending my time crying on the bed. The family ignored me, going about their day and going out to eat together.
I was young and needed an outlet. So of course, I turned to Facebook. That was very much in style back then. I posted “I’ve never been this sad before.”
I got a message in my inbox from Dorian. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I know what it’s like to be sad. I’m ready to talk if you need anything.”
We messaged for a bit, and then exchanged numbers and started to text. I told him of my pain. He told me of his. A woman he was supposed to get married to had cheated on him, and he was depressed after breaking things off months ago.
As the days passed our conversation turned from our pain to our interests. Our likes. Our hobbies. Our goals.
We decided we needed to hang out in person.
The First Hang Out
One Saturday we met for lunch at Taco Bell. This was merely the start of a problematic Taco Bell addiction we won’t get into now. We chatted and planned on heading to the local arcade since we both enjoyed video games. Our hometown was small, and most of the games didn’t even work. I gave Dorian some good-natured teasing about his velvet purple coin purse he brought game money in. I actually admired it, though. I was so used to feeling embarrassed about anything and everything. Everything about me always seemed wrong. But here he was, carrying around a princely coin purse that was bigger than his hand, unconcerned.
Normally after spending a few hours with someone, even a boyfriend, I’m ready to recharge in my room alone. But after we were done at the arcade, I found myself wanting to still hang out. We discussed, and decided to head into Tulsa and browse the stores, too broke to actually shop.
He drove me in his car. It was a flashy Camaro, which would have impressed me except back then I didn’t know the species of cars.
We spent hours more simply walking through stores and talking about our goals, our dreams, and our memories.
The First Date
We started dating only a month after we first talked on Facebook. He picked me up to go to dinner at Applebee’s, which was considered quite fancy in our small town. There was an air of nervousness to both of us. We’d dressed up. We talked.
