The Weed

Say what you need to say: A Mother's Day Tribute of Mourning

2013-05-12T02:47:00.000-07:00

Today is Mother's Day. It is also, coincidentally, my 33rd birthday. So it is the celebration of motherhood, and it is also the celebration of the day my mother became a mother.

I think I'm finally ready to post about this now.

A recent photo of my parents

My mom was a beautiful, intelligent woman.

Soft-spoken and tender, she spent the years before my birth as an elementary school teacher. She taught proficiently, and she nurtured and loved her students well. I was reading her journals from those years the other day (I'm transcribing them) and was brought to tears when she told a story about when she saw her student--a little girl--with a large bleeding gash on her forehead. She said that she ran to the girl and swooped her into her arms, and that as she walked her to the office she never knew if in the next step her legs would buckle, and I knew that feeling. The feeling of hurting, and having her, as a young woman, run to me and swoop me into her arms. It felt so familiar. So familiar, and so distant.

She was the perfect mother for me.

She had the sweetest faith I've ever known. So often I would walk in on her praying at her bedside that in my youthful egocentrism, I would get annoyed that I couldn't ask her what I needed to ask. (Often, it was if I had permission to play Nintendo.) It wasn't until years later that I contemplated the possibility that in those moments of outpouring she might have been--and was probably often--praying for me. And that those prayers had kept me safe at times in my life when I was headstrong and reckless.

I attribute much of what I am today as a human being to that woman, and to her prayers.

My mom is dying.

In her late forties, my mom started having trouble when she went to the grocery store. She would hold two items of similar price and be completely unable to determine which was the better deal. Paralyzed, she would stand there as the minutes passed, silently weeping. Eventually she would either leave without buying anything, or call home and seek guidance.

We all thought this was a symptom of her longstanding anxiety. We thought she was getting too panicked at the cost, and hyper-focusing on making the "right" choice. My dad took her to the doctor and they got her on some new anti-anxiety meds.

These didn't help much.

A few years later, when she was 51, Lolly and I got pregnant with Anna. My mom was overjoyed. Lolly and I had been married for four years, and my mom had patiently waited for a grandchild. She never pressured us at all, but you could hear the anticipation in her voice. When we told them we were pregnant she cried out in joy. "How wonderful!" she said. "I'm so, so excited!" And she began right away to buy outfits and books and toys. When she found out it was a girl, she would send cards addressed to the "Queen of our Hearts." It's so strange to look at those cards now--written in her handwriting. Handwriting that will never write another word again.

When Anna was born, she was a tiny little thing. Five pounds. My mom came down to help, and she laughed and cooed as we put tiny little Anna into her miniature clothes, only slightly bigger than doll clothes. My mom was so helpful and cheerful, cleaning for us, giving us breaks, watching as Lolly and I took our first steps into the world of parenting. She stepped in often to let us sleep and stayed up with our precious daughter in the night.

It was during this visit that we had the first glimpse into what was happening to my sweet mom.

It was Lolly who first noticed it. First uttered the dreaded word.

It was seven years ago at around this time (Anna was born in May) that my mom came to help us. Lolly and my mom were in one of the bedrooms folding clothes and my mom saw some fuzzy pink Bunny slippers that someone had given us at a baby shower. "Oh!" she giggled. "These are the cutest shoes I've ever seen! I love them! Where did you get these?" Lolly told her that we'd been given the slippers at a baby shower. She told my mom who had given them to us--a mutual friend we all knew. And my mom commented on what a nice gift it was, and how nice it was of those friends to think of something so cute.

Later that day, in the same room, my mom caught sight of the bunny slippers. "Oh! Well aren't these the cutest shoes I've ever seen?" She was giggling again, in delight. "They're so cute! Where did you get these?"

Lolly kindly explained it to her again. Who hasn't had a moment where they forget a detail or a conversation? But deep down Lolly knew something was wrong because of that conversation, and other small things she'd noticed over the course of the week. She pulled me aside that evening and said "Josh, something's wrong with your mom. She's reminding me of my Grandma Shea before she died. I know it sounds weird, but it's almost like she has Alzheimer's."

I had just done a presentation on Alzheimer's for a prerequisite class to for grad school. I'd just read all the statistics, and looked at all the symptoms. However, it was too hard to believe, so I tried to just dismiss it. "That's impossible," I said. "She's too young. Your Grandma was in her 80's. My mom barely turned 50. It would have to be early onset, and that's genetic... there's no history of it in her family."

Looking back, that moment reminds me of the times Lolly and I are driving in the car and she senses something wrong--some mechanical malfunction--and says "Josh, something's wrong with the car." Then I insist, adamantly, that there's nothing wrong with the car and that she's just paranoid because I really, really, really don't want there to be something wrong, only to then have the car break down 60 seconds later.

My mom's symptoms were mild. She functioned nearly perfectly the rest of her time there. It was easy to just push that incident aside and assume it was nothing. To assume we were just being paranoid. To sink back into denial and let things be--pretend nothing was wrong so that for a few more moments at least we could enjoy things while we didn't know the truth: that something was wrong and that my mom, though so young, was already dying, already being taken from us, piece by piece.

It was not long before the 60 seconds of denial elapsed and the car broke down...

The symptoms worsened. Lost items. Missed words. Repeated stories. It all happened more often and with more intensity, and as the next couple of years passed, the problem began to be undeniable.

I think Lolly and I accepted the truth before everyone else. There was one terrible night--the night before I began my clinical practicum for my Master's degree (2008)--that Lolly and I stayed up for three or four hours weeping into the night, mourning what this meant. "She has it," I said. "She has Alzheimer's. Shellie Weed is dying of Alzheimer's" We watched the hours pass as we talked. We had both known this great woman our whole lives. We cried. We cried for the fact that our children wouldn't know her for who she was. We cried for the pieces of her that were already gone, that had already been taken, as well as for the pieces that were sure to go. As the reality of it all continued to set in we wept at the memories--my mom as Lolly's Mia Maid advisor; how excited she had been for Anna and then for Viva; what a wonderful mother she was; what a wonderful person she was. At four in the morning, we finally fell asleep in each others' arms.

My dad was still hoping, still banking on, what the doctors had told him--that the anti-anxiety medication they had put her on causes symptoms of dementia, and that once off them, she would probably return to normal. They stopped the medication and then waited. Months and months passed. Nothing changed.

Finally during a trip down to see them for Thanksgiving, my dad and I had a sobering talk. I had already had my late-night powwow with Lolly and had come terms, begrudgingly, with the fact that this was happening. There was a part of me that wanted my dad to just accept it, too. I wanted to be abrupt. To say "She has it, Dad. Just face it." But you can't just say that kind of thing to a man who is losing his soul mate. Instead the conversation was much more subtle.

"How has mom been doing?" I asked as we stood ringing up some last-minute Thanksgiving groceries at a grocery store.

"Not very good."

"Still having the memory trouble just as bad?"

"Yeah. Probably worse, actually. The other day she couldn't even work the remote control."

"So...how long ago did she stop taking the meds?" I said the words softly, like an afterthought.

He paused as his brain did the math. "She stopped them at the beginning of August...which means it's been about four months now." We stood there in silence for a moment, holding our grocery bags filled with pumpkin filling and ice cream. We both teared up. "I think it's time to start acting on the idea that this is Alzheimer's," he said, his voice choking.

"Yeah. Probably so," I said. There was dread in our words. A dread of watching this actually happen. A dread of knowing for sure, of hearing a neurologist say the words "she has this disease."

By the time the call came, months later, I was more adjusted in my grief. I took the phone call, the revelations of the diagnosis, well.

This is my mom at my sister's wedding. It's one of the last pictures where she still looks like "herself" taken near the time of diagnosis.

But soon after, I discovered that grieving someone that is dying of early onset Alzheimer's is a strange thing.

They haven't died, you see. But they are also no longer themselves. As several more years have passed, it has become clear to me that watching a young person die of Alzheimer's is one of the most excruciating types of loss.

The grief is vicious. You are grieving the loss of someone you know. That person is gone--dead, disappeared never to return--but then you go home and there that person is in the flesh. I can hug my mom. I can hear her voice. I can tell her I love her. I can hear her laughter. And... she will never ever be herself again. She is... absent.

It's loss and possession at once. It's being able to say goodbye and never being able to say goodbye at once. It's needing to grieve and having no death to grieve at once.

It's torturous.

There are so many strange, horrible things. I mention them because part of mourning is being honest about the painful things:

--For a time, I thought I was doing so well for myself--being so mature and realistic. I remember one morning as I ran on the treadmill thinking practical thoughts like "she'll be better off if the disease takes her quickly" and "my dad will suffer too greatly if this drags on over decades--it might be better if she died" and then, like a punch to the face I realized that I had just wished for the death of my mom. I started bawling. I wasn't talking about some conceptual circumstance. I was saying I hoped she died sooner rather than later. My mom.

--There is an embarrassing impulse--the impulse to avoid her. I would never have expected this, but it's real. I've talked about it with some of my siblings. I make myself stay in contact, but a part of me doesn't want to see her. Doesn't want talk to her. Because every repeated story, every mangled sentence, is further proof of her demise. Each visit is filled, minute by minute, with signals that say "the woman you love is gone, and her body is dying. You can't pretend this isn't happening." Knowing she's so vulnerable and then having my brain not want to see her is horrible.

--She can't stand to be with my kids. She wants to, but their laughter and noise make her say uncharacteristic things like "can't somebody shut those kids up?" We can't stay with them anymore.This is devastating. Most of her grandchildren will never really know her. Some may never meet her at all.

Other things I have had trouble with:

--I have a hard time when people tell me about their grandparents who have died of Alzheimer's. I know they mean well (and if I know you and you have done this, I have no recollection of it specifically and I'm grateful for your sympathy--I really am). In such conversations, I genuinely appreciate people's stories for the most part, but a part of me in the back of my mind wants to abruptly explain "It's not the same! She is too young! She's 57! Her mother is still alive! This is a different kind of loss! It's EARLY ONSET! And she's my mom!!!" And then I realize how irrational that is, and feel bad.

--The changes are so different than I expected. In my mind, there was a strict order to things: she would start to repeat things more and more frequently, and then she would forget who we all were, and then she would forget who she was and where she was, and then she would lose motor function. How much more excruciating to watch her lose her motor function--the ability to use the bathroom, the ability to put on a seat belt, the ability to write--while she still remembers who we all are and who she is and what is happening to her! Like a person fallen down a deep well, a kernel of her real self remains, watching her own deterioration. It's so horrifying. I didn't think it was supposed to happen this way.

--I hate watching my dad suffer through all of this. He is doing an amazing job, and his pain is more than I can even imagine.

Laced in the pain and trauma are sweet moments. I treasure those.

Occasionally, there are conversations where the real her comes through, if but for a moment.

I'll close with one of these treasured moments.

At one point I wrote a friend of mine who had lost her father to the same disease. I asked if she had any advice for me. At first she said "The best [thing] you can do is remember how they were when they were themselves, and tell those stories, over and over. Make THAT the part of their life that sticks, not the crazy things that happen at the end . . . You never technically get to say goodbye. Its not like you can do it when they're lucid one day over a cup of coffee." But then, not long after sent this, she wrote again in a panic and said:

After I wrote that email I was like DAMMIT ALL!! I SHOULDVE SAID GOODBYE WHILE HE WAS LUCID OVER A CUP OF COFFEE!!

Of course you can do that! It probably feels somewhat like when you say goodbye to a friend you ran into on a walk and then you're both parked in the same place and then you have that awkward together-but-already-said-goodbye walk back.

So to amend my previous email, in the immortal words of John stamos, only not john stamos, the other john who's a singer who I can't think of right now bc I'm so tired, "say what you need to say."
One evening when I was visiting my parents my mom and I were chatting. She was repeating the same stories and the same phrases and forgetting basic words, and the sun was setting and it was getting dark, and we were alone I realized now was the time.

I started crying and I got down on my knees in front of her and held her hands and I said "Mom, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you how much I love you, and how much you have meant to me. I want you to know that you were the best mom I could have ever asked for, and you were so perfect for me, and that you saved me with your prayers--you saved my life. Thank you Mommy. Thank you for all you have done for me, and for being the perfect mom for me. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I want you to know how much I will miss you, and how much I already miss you." I was bawling, and speaking quickly, and she was crying too, and then she had a flash of lucidity. Her mind focused and she hugged me said "I know, Josh. I know. I love you! It's okay Joshy, you don't need to be sad. It's okay. I'll be fine. You're such a good boy, and you've done such good things with your life. Don't worry about me. I'm so proud of you! I know.. I know..."

In a perfect display of motherly altruism, she, the one riddled with disease, hugged and comforted me as I said goodbye.

She will never remember we had that conversation. And I will remember it until the day I die.

And now it is I--following her pattern--who finds himself kneeling at the foot of my own bed, pouring out my soul in prayer for her. It's my turn. It's my turn to ask God to take care of her while she suffers, and to take care of my dad. To ask Him to bless them and be with them as they are in agony, and to thank Him. To thank Him for the sweet memories of my youth, and to thank him for sending me to that wonderful, wonderful woman.

In closing, the advice my friend gave me is my advice to all of you. You never know what will happen. You don't know how much time you have with your mom. Perhaps you and your mom have struggled. Perhaps you live far, far away and don't get to see her often. Perhaps your mom is still young, and the thought of death seems distant and vague--nearly impossible. Don't wait. Don't hesitate. This Mother's day, take the chance to look your mom lovingly in the eyes and speak. Say what you need to say! Ask for forgiveness and grant forgiveness. Speak of love and share your memories. Tell her the things you've always meant to tell her but haven't. Say it all and lay it bare. Take that chance while you have it, and if you have it again next year, do it again. You won't regret it. Not for one minute.

Just say what you need to say.

Happy Mother's day.

I love you, Mom.

Top 10 thoughts I have while I'm on a diet.

2013-04-23T23:44:00.000-07:00

Top 10 thoughts I have while I'm on a diet:

10. On day two, looking in the mirror: "Wait, that can't be my body! I'm a skinny person now!"

9. "I don't care what anybody says. Fruit is not a 'delicious dessert.'"

8. "Does a Snicker's count as a protein bar?"

7. "I didn't lose weight this week. Must be muscle weight."

6. "Tofu tastes like plastic if plastic were made of boring and cheese curd."

5. "Eating half-mangled food off my kids' plates means it doesn't have any calories."

4. "I would snap my left pinky bone with a nut-cracker for a bowl of Haagen Dazs."

3. "Mmmmm! Water is nature's soft drink!"

2. "Wow, I ran two miles. That means I get a snack! *eats 4,000 calories in one sitting*"

And finally,

1. "Whew. Those were the hardest four days of my life."

Favorite Childhood Memory + Childhood pics!

2013-04-22T23:30:00.000-07:00

All right, I have a FFAQ backlog. BTW in my brain, I pronounce FFAQ as "f-fack" so FFAQ backlog rhymes in my head. Fascinating tidbit, I know.

The question that won last FFAQ (by a landslide) is probably the hardest question that I've had to yet answer. It's not difficult because it's a challenging question. Instead, it's been hard for me to answer because the answer is so broad that I have no idea how to narrow it down! But it's also been a really fun change of pace.

Here's the question, posed by Maud:

I want an answer to a not-so-serious, not-about-your-sexuality question!

What is your all time favorite childhood memory?

Hmmm. My all-time favorite childhood memory?

Well, let's see. I had a pretty good childhood, as well as a very boring childhood. I was very obedient and not really adventurous, so I'm not sure I know how to narrow this question down. I've seriously been thinking about this question for days and I just can't seem to isolate on single memory that is my all-time favorite and most of what I do think of is pretty dull. But, like any other question for FFAQ, I want to give a full answer, so I guess I'll talk about some random good childhood memories so you can kind of get an idea of what my childhood was like. Sorry if it's boring!

*I loved being at my Grandma Weed's house when I was five because there were snails in the yard, and my brother Chris and I would spend hours and hours playing with them, feeling their slimy bodies, watching them creep. I vividly remember trying to scrub the slime off of my hands before dinner.

*When I was ten, my sister Jenni and I had this thing where I would sing Michael Jackson songs while she danced out in the back yard. For some reason we thought this was incredibly fun.

*Disneyland. Of course. We went every year until I was ten. Going on the Matterhorn for the first time was a revelation. I was also always deeply fascinated by the tombstones in front of the haunted mansion--so intrigued by antiquity and death. Just like a writer should be.

*By far our favorite thing in life was when our cousins, Adam and Travis and Asia Moore, came to visit us in the summer. They lived in Antioch California, and we anticipated their visit with quivering excitement every year. We loved being with them. It was really sad, though, because a lot of years they would either not want to come because of social anxiety or not stay very long because their parents would make them leave earlier than expected, and we were often left feeling abandoned and deeply disappointed. BUT, whenever they did come and stay we had such a freaking good time. We'd play chase through the entire house and yard, complete with special passwords and alliances and teams and stuff. It was such a blast. And every year, at the end, they'd say "I didn't really want to come at first, but this was awesome. We'll remember how much we loved this next year." And by the next year, they'd always have forgotten.

*Going out to my Grandpa Mousley's shop in his garage in Morgan Hill, CA where he made violins as a hobby. It was so fascinating to watch him work.

*Okay, so this is going to comprise most of the joy of my childhood: when I was seven, my Grandma Weed saved enough from her close-to-minimum wage salary to buy us a Nintendo Entertainment System for Christmas. That thing changed our lives. We loved it. We spent hours and hours logging time on the classics: Mario Bros, Zelda, Dr. Mario, Contra, Final Fantasy, etc. It was probably the thing we Weed kids--most especially my brother Chris and I--loved most in life, and we were always focused on it. We'd ask permission to play the second we got home, and our happiness or devastation hinged on being allowed to grab a game, blow into the cartridge, plug in a controller, and press "power." I have tons of fun memories playing that thing with my siblings and friends. That little box brought me a lot of joy.

*One of my favorite things ever was going to pet stores. I was fascinated by all the animals--mostly the reptiles. Over the course of my child I owned: hermit crabs, lizards, frogs, and a dog named Peaches. Good ol' Peaches. I got her for Christmas when I was in first grade. She died on my mission. She was a good dog. I still miss her.

All right. So, so, so sorry if this was boring. I hope that answered the question well enough, though. Thanks for asking a question that didn't have to do with sexual orientation! It was really refreshing, and was way fun to reminisce.

In closing, here are some pics from my childhood:

Jenni holding Peaches. Or as she liked to call her: Cheechus.

Yeah, I'm rocking a blond bowl cut and a blue bow tie. It's nbd.

My facial expression in this one makes me laugh every time I see it. Plus, SKINNY TIE!

Jenni, Chris, Josh, Maquel

I feel like country music should be the background music to this one, for some reason.

All right guys. There you have it. Josh Weed as a child.

Over & out.

Aprons, to the rescue!

2013-04-21T23:45:00.000-07:00

*sigh*

Today's been a long day.

First of all, thank you thank you thank you so much for the many, many, many messages of support that Lolly received over the course of today. She was incredibly touched by so many of the amazing words you all shared. Thank you for helping her feel better.

Unfortunately, mixed in that bag was another comment that was not very nice at all. I was in Portland, so I didn't get home until about an hour ago, and when I did Lolly came downstairs and said she'd been crying for hours. She's not an especially sensitive person like the last couple of days might make her sound--it's just that we were apart from each other, and online vulnerability is so hard. It's hard when someone you know passes harsh judgment. We have moved the conversation with that person over to private channels, and everything will be okay. But overall, Lolly and I have ended this weekend apart feeling very raw. And also very blessed. And also so, so, so incredibly supported by so many amazing people, who said things that we will cherish forever.

Thank you for that.

Along those lines, I am posting tonight about someone else who needs support. I believe that this blog has become a community, and I feel that when a member of our community is down on her luck, we should rally around and support her.

Now, I'm not at liberty to say what is going on, but our friend Bjorge Queen is going through a hard time. We've become friends, she and I, over the last ten months and to distract herself from the difficulties she is currently facing, she made and then sent me these:

Yes, this is the cutest apron you have ever seen.

The girls LOVED them. They literally squealed with delight, and love to cook in them.

She did not ask me to endorse them, and she did not make me pay for them. She took time to think of others during a period of difficulty. She did something truly nice for my girls.

So of course I told her I would take a picture of my girls in them and then send you guys over to her shop to maybe brighten her day. Here it is!!! So, if you can spare a moment, head over there and take a look and see if you can help BQ find a footing, and perhaps have something positive to look forward to tomorrow. And if you can't afford something, but still want to help a Weeder out, I'm sure BQ would love some comments of support. I know how much we all need an encouraging word from time to time, as this weekend was evidence of for us. Let's all give BQ some love...

Thanks Weeders. You are the greatest people. I mean it.

A comment that made Lolly cry. And not in a good way.

2013-04-20T23:30:00.000-07:00

Well, we got a comment today that made Lolly cry.

That hasn't happened for a while. It used to happen last summer when people came to this blog and judged us for our life choice to get married, often calling us insulting things. People said horrible things about her and about us as parents, and about me. I was rarely bothered. The only time I was really bothered is when a comment would make Lolly cry.

It happened again today.

I may be a gay man, but before that I am a man married to a woman I love, and when someone makes that woman cry, my masculine instinct to protect her to comes out in full force. So, you'll forgive me for being blunt as I defend my wife.

Here is the comment which was posted on yesterday's post about our choice to participate in a Vh1 docu-series (and there seem to be more comments like this following, so I figure, let's nip this in the bud.)

You doing this is way over the line... What will your girls think when they grow up :(. I'd be super embarrassed if I was a kid abd my parents were on a show like this. your daughters will be embarrassed someday, i myself an embarrassed for you both. Walking the gray is one step from denying. I am do sad to see you guys participating in a smut TV show. People have it right ... Was the money worth participating in smut?

Let me tell you, anonymous, why this comment is so upsetting:

1. Readers of The Weed should know by now that we, over the course of the last 10 months, have been invited by numerous producers and media spokespeople to participate in many programs. You also know, I hope, that we take each and every opportunity presented to us seriously, and make it a deep matter of prayer and fasting. Some we have chosen to do. Others we have turned down flat, without reservation, because we knew we weren't supposed to do it (though we often didn't know why). Why on earth would you assume we didn't do that in this case?

2. As an extension of #1: We know, without question, that not only was it okay to go forward, but that we were supposed to go forward with this opportunity. You can certainly have your opinions about our life but I guarantee you have very limited information regarding our decision-making process and the spiritual guidance surrounding this particular event, as well as any other event you see us do. This is a blog to you, but to us it is our life. Be cautious as you judge and harshly criticize someone's life based on such limited information as a minute long clip and a very sparse blog post.

3. The sheer audacity of assuming we made this choice based on money is like a slap in the face. Not that it's any of your business, but we have turned down incredibly lucrative opportunities--far more lucrative than this one--without hesitation because we knew it wasn't right. You just accused Lolly Weed of potentially harming her daughters for money. As her husband, I strongly denounce your accusation.

4. I would just like to point out something you might not have thought of. Now, I don't know the reasons why we felt like we should go forward with this thing; all I know is that we felt it. But I do know that this was a unique opportunity for us to share our love and our faith with an audience that might not normally get to see such a thing. That image of our family on a couch with our children in the clip? That's us having a Family Home Evening. On TV. I am not allowed to reveal spoilers, but rest assured that we lived our life as normally as we possibly could while being filmed. I can think of no better venue to share our faith in Christ and love of family than on a channel aimed at the youth demographic of our country like Vh1.

5. Say what you want of me--I've been ruthlessly bullied my entire life, so sadly I'm used to it by now--but I want to be clear that there will not come a day where our daughters will look back on the events of this year and be embarrassed of their mother. Their mother is a shining example of bravery and purity. She is one of the best people on this planet. Lolly Weed is golden. Her daughters will look on her actions over the last year with amazement at her bravery and gratitude for her willingness to do whatever the Lord asked of her, even when it was really, really hard.

And this comment? Is part of what makes this stuff really really hard.

The bottom line is we just exposed ourselves, yet again, to harsh criticism because we feel prompted to be brave. I can't tell you how anxiety-provoking it is to know that our lives will be shown on TV in such an intimate way. It is excruciating. I'm sure when the show airs, we'll receive an onslaught of hateful rhetoric. Hopefully there will come a day when being courageous in this way is no longer required of us. Until that time, we need all the help--all the buoying up--we can get.

And on that note, we did just get another anonymous comment that touched us:

Josh, it bothers me that so many people are tearing you apart for your choice. Geez there have to be days where you feel like you really can't win no matter what you do. Live your life in light as you always do. I have no doubt that you didn't go on this show without thought and prayer. You can't please everyone. As long as you and Lolly and your family are happy and God is happy, it's all good. I am just amazed by all of the harshness. This is your life and yours alone. No one else can judge. We do such a disservice to others when we judge. It keeps up from loving.

I couldn't agree more. Thanks for your kind words.

Hey guess what! I can finally talk about this now.

2013-04-19T15:28:00.000-07:00

Hey guess what!

I can finally talk about this now.

So, back in February we had a bunch of strangers come to our house off and on for four days, and they brought a lot of pets. And when I say "pets" I actually mean "big huge cameras." And they used those big hug cameras to record Lolly and me and the kids for one episode of a Docu-series on Vh1 called "So I married a..."

I would like you to fill in the blank for which title best encapsulates Lolly and my story.

So I married a....

a. Axe murderer.

b. Really, really attractive albino.

c. Man with ADD.

d. Gay Mormon.

e. All of the above.

f. c and d

g. a, c and d

Did you just test anxiety?

Well, I'm not going to tell you the answer. Instead, I'm going to show you the promo for the show and allow you to figure it out for yourselves. Are you ready?

I'm Married To A...

So, yeah. There's that.

Also, I just took a train to Portland to visit my parentals. I do like me some Portland. Such a quirky fun city. But do you know what I have never ever tried?

Voodoo doughnuts.

Blasphemy, right? If I do end up going there (for anyone who has been), what kind of donut is a must eat? (PS, I don't like bacon.)

Ope, just got a text from my dad saying that he's running late and I'm stuck at the train station for a while longer. So, time for a selfie!!!!

Train stations make me happy!

Especially when they look really cool and old and big like Portland's.

(I also prefer them when they don't contain terrorists. For the record.)

All right, friends. Peace.

10 ways not to suck at blogging (hint: it involves posting more)

2013-04-18T00:26:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday. And this post is phoned in. Other than that, I'm totally on my game.

10. Post more.

9. Then post more posts.

8. Occasionally take a break for a day but then

7. POST!!

6. Have I mentioned you need to post?

5. Because you do. If you don't have much to say... POST.

4. If you don't have much time... POST ANYWAY.

3. French bread is delicious.

2. I will

1. Post daily.

This list was pretty much a poem by e.e. cummings.

I'm really sorry, Weeders. I've gotten messages and comments from many of you because of my lack of postage and I hear you. I will do better.

In fact, I will post every single day for a week. (And then hopefully beyond.)

What prize do you think I should give myself if I reach this ambitious goal????

(PS--upcoming attractions: two FFAQ answers from a while back, one about scouts and one about something totally different, plus my response to a doozy of an ill-informed comment about locker rooms. Should be fun! Unless you hate those things. Then it will be not fun.)

Oh hi!

2013-04-11T12:37:00.000-07:00

Totally not dead.

Totally working on book stuff.

Totally need to stop saying totally.

So, here's a random thing I was gonna post a long time ago:

Every night we read to the girls. Tessa loves this book about things being hard if you're little. It's a Sesame Street book. And ever since she was one year old, she has always gotten to a particular page in the book and cried out "Daddy!" as if she had just stumbled upon a picture of me.

And then she would kiss the picture. Like she was kissing her father.

Would you like to see the picture she thought was such a likeness that it filled her with glee every time she saw it?

Super-duper Snuffle-upagus. Holding a dainty flower.

Placed in contrast to Teeny Tiny Twiddlebugs.

A remarkable likeness, yes?

I'm trying to figure out how to not be insulted by being compared to a gigantic hair-covered beast with woman eyelashes holding a flower.

Haven't figured out a way yet...

That awkward moment when...

2013-04-01T20:06:00.001-07:00

So at about this time last year, Lolly and I had had several very strong impressions that we were supposed to share our story, and that it would lead to some changes for us. We had no idea what those changes would look like. We didn't even know what we would be sharing about our story at this point or where we would say it, but we knew we were supposed to prepare ourselves for something. Something that felt like it would be big.

With that in mind, we faithfully started calling people. Every Sunday, for weeks, we would call a close friend or family member that we knew needed to hear our story from our lips.

I'm sure you can see where this is going. The following speaker phone conversation between us and Lolly's brother, Scott, and his wife, Mickelle, happened a year ago today on a random Sunday:

Lolly and Josh: Hey guys. How's it going?

Scott and Mickelle: Oh, you know. We're good.

(small talk ensues for several minutes)

Lolly and Josh: Well, we're calling to tell you something. It's something kind of important, and it's probably gonna sound a little weird.

Scott and Mickelle: Okaaaaay...

Lolly and Josh: So, we've felt lately like we are going to have to share some really private information about ourselves in a more public way. We're not even sure what that means. All we know is that we are supposed to be calling the people we love and are closest to to tell them some important information about our lives. It's nothing bad. It's just... really personal.

Scott and Mickelle: All right. Out with it! What is this "big thing"?

Lolly and Josh (look at each other): Okay, here it goes. We wanted to call and let you know that Josh is gay.

Scott and Mickelle: ....

Lolly and Josh: So, yeah, Josh is same sex attracted, and it's something Lolly has known our whole marriage. So nothing has changed at all, and we're still exactly the same as you've always seen us as, we just have this extra layer that we didn't really talk about.

Scott and Mickelle:...

Lolly and Josh: So, uh, we wanted to let you know...?

Scott and Mickelle: All right, guys, enough already. Happy April Fools! Hardy har har. Gotta admit, that's a pretty good one...

Lolly and Josh: Oh, no! Is today April first? Okay. So... we didn't realize the date. And we're actually serious right now...

Scott and Mickelle: Sure, of course you are. Give it up, guys! We're already on to you. (laughter)

Lolly and Josh: No, seriously guys. We are calling select people every Sunday to share this with them and you guys are on our List of People We Love and Need to Tell in Person. It was totally random that it fell on April 1st. We are not joking.

Scott and Mickelle: Wait, so you're saying that Josh is actually gay?

Lolly and Josh: Yes. We're not messing with you. We swear. Josh is really gay. Like, really really gay. This is not a joke.

Scott and Mickelle: ...

Lolly and Josh: We're so sorry we didn't realize the date!

After confirming several more times that we were, in fact, not punking them, we ended up having a wonderful conversation with them, and they showed nothing but love and support, and have continued to do so until this day.

But yeah, that day? Was awesome. Pretty sure it should become a meme:

That awkward moment when you accidentally out yourself to some family on April 1st.

(I wanted to make this into an actual meme, but I can't right now because I'm currently being eaten by a polar bear. April Fools!)

All right guys. Punk someone you love. Or out yourself to someone if you're gay. Either one should do the trick.

My witness of the resurrection.

2013-03-31T23:30:00.000-07:00

It was 2001.

I was in a dusty town in Venezuela, sitting on small bus that would take my companion and me to an incredibly poor part of town that rested atop a plateau. The bus was crowded, filled with laborers coming home from working in the main part of Guarenas.

Guarenas wasn't a beautiful town. There was a joke in the mission about Guarenas. It went something like this: if Guarenas is the butthole of the state of Miranda, and Miranda is the butthole of Venezuela, and Venezuela is the butthole of South America, and South America is the butthole of planet earth, and planet earth is the butthole of this Universe, where exactly does that put me?

(Note: I don't actually believe that about any of those locations. It was just a joke I heard. Please don't harass me with your love of Latin America. I love it too.)

I remember feeling tired this afternoon.
The sun, as always, was blazing. I felt sweaty and hot, but I had just eaten dinner, and so I felt ready to tackle the evening of visits. To pass the time, I took my copy of Talmage's Jesus the Christ from my scripture bag and sat there, on that bus, amongst a throng of chattering Venezuelans, reading about our Savior.

I was almost done with the book. I was reading about the aftermath of the crucifixion--that great and dreadful act. Jesus was with his apostles again--which they could hardly believe. Some of them didn't believe. Famous Thomas would not believe the first hand account of the other apostles. He refused to have faith. He wanted proof before he would believe, for which he was rebuked.

And then I read something I had always known. I read of Jesus eating. Of Christ, after death--after hanging on the cross, being pierced, and being buried for three entire days--taking a piece of honeycomb and fish, putting it in his mouth, and eating it. People saw this happen.

At this moment, something totally unexpected happened to me. I knew it was true. I won't bother to attempt to describe the internal machinations that confirmed this reality in my body and soul mind--just know that it was incredibly powerful, like nothing I had ever before (or since) felt. But I knew it.

I had pleaded for a spiritual witness about Christ for many years. As a gay kid, I was always very interested in the atonement. Was Christ's sacrifice real? Was there really a balm in Gilead? Something to soothe the pain and heal wounds? I always expected that, if I were ever privileged to feel a witness of the Savior, it would be about the Great Sacrifice. I would know of the drops of blood shed for me. I would know, and feel, the confirmation that that transformative expiation had occurred, and it would be a glorious and profound moment of insight, probably while I was praying at my bedside, poised in perfect Mormonad picture positioning.

I never expected to receive a witness of the resurrection. That had always felt like some kind of foregone conclusion. "Oh, right, and then of course He came back to life and stuff..." Yet as I sat there being jostled by a bus, hearing the staccato of Caribbean Spanish all around me, feeling my own sweat in the hot sun, cramped on a small seat next to my companion, reading a tattered paperback, for some reason, this was the moment in which the Holy Ghost powerfully imprinted upon my heart and soul a witness about Jesus Christ and his reality: that He lived. Right then. In that very instant. In the flesh.

The resurrection had actually happened! And that meant that He was alive!

I said nothing to my companion about what had just happened to me. I carried it in my heart. And it has always remained with me as one of those moments--one of those key memories that even when all else feels compromised--even in those rare occasions when all else has felt tinged with doubt and skepticism, at least I know this: that one afternoon in Venezuela, God told me in my heart and my mind and my whole body with great intensity that His son died and then literally came back to life.

I know it. And I know God knows I know it. And I could not deny it.

Happy Easter, everyone.

Ten reasons I still haven't lost those last 20 pounds...

2013-03-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

Ten reasons I still haven't lost those last 20 pounds

10. I'm just big boned.

9. Yeah, like I really want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe! (Said no gay man, ever.)

8. It's been really cold out--way too cold to run. On my treadmill.

7. So... these:

Stock up now... these things don't last all year.

6. And, well, also these:

Oh, hello there.

(That apple in the background? Been there for WEEKS.)

5. Also, I'd like to cordially introduce you to:

I just ruined your life. You're welcome.

4. It's all muscle weight, guys. Lots and lots of lean muscle. On my abdomen.

3. Stress eating. Or eating when I'm sad. Or excited. Or bored. Or sad that I'm bored. Or bored with being sad. Or watching TV. Or breathing.

2. Sometimes my "free day" (Fridays) turns into "free days" which then devolves into a "free weekend." And when I say *sometimes* I actually mean *every time a week contains a Friday, followed by a Saturday then a Sunday.*

and final reason I still haven't lost those last 20 pounds?

1. Elephantitis. Probably.

FFAQ VII--Time to ask some questions.

2013-03-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

Do you like how you read a FFAQ answer yesterday, and there's a new poll today? Sometimes life gets crazy, y'all. Crazy. Our book proposal needs to be done by Monday, so we're getting that sucker done. And writing that sentence fills me with excitement and amazement and joyness.

Oh! Someone sent me some FFAQ graphics, and I'm going to use one. Hold on, let me find it...

This was made by Brianna Dickerson, who is awesome. Brianna, if you have something you want me to link to (blog, etsy shop, art gallery, photography page), let me know. (Got it: click on her name and visit Brianna's photography site.)

Thanks Brianna. You rock.

All right. You know the drill. If you have a question, ask it in the comments. The earlier you ask the better. Questions that get chosen tend to be shortish, clear and specific. Also, many questions that are chosen have been asked several weeks, so if you saw a question you liked in the past, re-ask it. If you see a question you like, say "ditto" in its comments. The question with the most "dittoes" is the one I answer next Friday, and then the next Friday we do another poll, and so on and so forth, forever and ever into perpetuity.

Oh, and someone asked last week if the questions have to be about gay stuff. Truth is, while I love talking about that, I would seriously LOVE to answer a question about other topics as well. So anything's game. Anything at all.

Bring on the questions!

(And have a good weekend, Weeders. Much love to you all.)

Is it a choice? (FFAQ VII) + pics of the girls UPDATED

2013-03-21T03:10:00.003-07:00

All right, I've totally been called out. I promised this post last Friday, and it's been days. Then reader Emily posted this last night as a comment on my last post in which I talk about pressing "refresh" a lot:

JOSH. I totally feel like YOU right nooow. I keep hitting *refresh* on your website, in the hopes that sometime, maybe soon! you'll post something new. Who knows? It could be soon. It COULD be there at the very next... *refresh*
Because let's be honest - I check your blog like, twice a day.
UPDATES, please C:
kthanksbye.

1. That was funny. And 2. I have been remiss. I will do better, Weeders. I promise.

(Which reminds me: Weeders? Does that work? I need a word for you awesome people. And "Weeders" makes me smile. Cuz it sounds like "readers." That's why it's funny. Do you understand now?)

Okay, on to.... FFAQ response!

Here's the deal. Somebody needs to do a case study. For the second week in a row, Nicole has gotten the most "dittoes" on a FFAQ question. Here's what she asks:

how do you address the debate of being born gay or it being a choice? i know with being LDS, we tend to have a different view of body vs spirit and agency and all that. do you feel that your spirit is attracted to the same sex or is it a body thing? I would love to hear your take on this issue. :)

Great question, Nicole! And great job on having yet another question chosen!

Let's start out with what the church thinks on this issue:

*crickets chirp*

Did you hear those crickets chirping? That's because the church has no official opinion about the origins of homosexuality. While there are various theories, nobody really knows.

As far as my own thoughts, there is a lot I don't know either. Let me tell you what I do know.

I know that for sure being gay was not a choice for me.

Other things:

1. I know that I had my first fantasies about men at the age of 5.

2. I know that my parents noticed effeminate behavior in me (wearing dresses and wigs, pretending to be a girl during play) as early as age 2.

3. I know that when puberty hit, I was attracted to males instead of females. Automatically. I wasn't abused, nor introduced to this in any way. It came as naturally as comes any person's sexual attractions.

4. I am attracted to men (and not to women) on all sensual levels. Sight, sound (of voice), smell, etc. That means that this is something very deeply entrenched--it's not something that can be learned.

So, yeah. I didn't choose this. I just... would never have chosen this for myself. My life is filled with choices--I choose to love my wife every day, I chose to become a therapist, I chose to eat Haagen Dasz ice cream last weekend--but being sexually attracted to men? Was not a choice. On any level.

As far as spirit/body stuff, I will admit freely that I don't have the answers.

I do have some suspicions, which I'll share, but I reserve the right to change my mind about these things if more information and/or revelation comes to light.

I get the sense, based on some of the stuff I just mentioned, that my homosexuality is very much a body thing and not a spirit thing. I do have some questions around where my personality begins and where my same sex attraction ends as I outlined in this post about resurrection. But yeah, I am of the opinion that my homosexuality is a mortal condition, not something that will be indefinitely a part of my existence. I realize other gay people feel differently on this, and I totally respect their reasons why. Those reasons simply don't resonate with me.

Anyway, I hope that answered your question. I'm sorry that the answer basically boils down to "I don't know the answer to this question..." but thanks for giving me the chance to get some of my ideas out there.

In closing, here are some profesh pics of the girls (well, except for one. You'll see what I mean...):

Tessa is freaking huge now.

Really this is my baby?

So fancy, with the yellow flower and all!

I'm buying a shotgun.

You'll note that there is no professional picture of Viva. No, we don't love her any less. But...

Yeah. This is why Viva didn't get a professional photo. Poor thing has had this rash for MONTHS. Any thoughts of what this could be? We've taken her to the doctor three times already and have tried all manner of ointments and creams and antibiotics. HELP!

We promise we'll get a photo of our little fashionista taken once the rash clears up.

All right Weeders (yes? how do we feel about this? I might do a poll on the Facebook page). Have a good one.

UPDATE:

Reader Mary MacVoy from London, Ontario took our little Viva and spruced her up a bit:

Magical! Thanks Mary!

Where I've Been aka I have some GOOD news

2013-03-15T14:48:00.001-07:00

I haven't been able to get myself to write here because there was something kinda major going on in my life and even though it didn't take much of my time, it made my reflective abilities shrivel up like an offended sea anemone. Because that's what happens when there's a major email on its way: I sit down at the computer and my brain says "and now you will press refresh on your inbox times infinity until the email you are waiting for magically materializes" even though, deep down, I know it probably won't come for several more days.

*refresh*

nothing

*refresh*

nothing

"Maybe I should write a blog post... OVERRIDE! MUST REFRESH"

*refresh*

Heart stops when inbox says "1 new message."

It is spam.

-deep breath-

*refresh*

nothing

...

ANYWAY.

Friends, I need to introduce you to someone. This is Byrd.

I unabashedly stole this photo from Byrd's Twitter feed. I hope he doesn't sue me.

He is my literary agent.

Being able to write the above five words is a dream come true you can hardly imagine.

For those who don't understand what that means, basically, acquiring a literary agent is one of the major hurdles to becoming a non-self-published author. I first queried an agent four years ago. He asked for a partial of the novel I'd written, couldn't open the attachment, and then I never heard from him again. It was kind of devastating. To have an agent now feels pretty awesome. If I were one to use the eff word, I totally would have used it between "pretty" and "awesome" right there. For emphasis.

I just made you cuss in your head, didn't I? Bwahahaha.

Yeah, I finally got the email yesterday after finishing a therapy session. It just... appeared in my inbox (as emails are wont to do) and said all these crazy things like "your book is an amazing love story" and "it is so well written" and "I would love to try to sell it for you."

And I was like WHAAAA??? Is this actually happening right now????

Because first of all, it's only halfway done.

And second of all WHAAAAA???? IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW??????

But it is actually happening right now.

So, we're going for it. We are going to allow Byrd to take our precious book--the essence of our story, everything we are as a couple, a tale about the deepest sentiments of our lives--and try to find a home for it in the publishing world.

Pray for us. Pray that it finds the right home, with the right editor. Pray that it sells.

And then do a happy dance with me because this is one of the most awesome things that has ever happened to me!!!!!

All right. Enough dancing for me. I look really awkward, and plus I have some writing to do.

I'll catch you all later. Have an amazing weekend. I know I will.

PS, I'll post my answer to last week's FFAQ tomorrow. Thank you all for your amazing questions, and for being so awesome.

FFAQ VII--Poll time!

2013-03-08T09:51:00.000-08:00

Is it seriously already Friday again?

I'm not complaining, mind you. Very glad it's Friday for several reasons, not the least of which is that it's my free day so I allow myself to eat ~~EVERYTHING EVAR NOMNOMNOMNOM~~ a little more than I do on my normal clean-eating days.

Fridays are my writing days now. I've spent the morning listening to Ann Lamott interviews (I'm obsessed with her lately) and getting ready to SPANK the memoir. Next I'll go on a run, take some crap to the dump and then write like a writing super champ.

But right now I need to put up a post for Friday's Frequently Asked Question.

If you're new here, here's how this goes down: ask a question in the comments. Any question. About anything. People will vote on the questions that accrue by placing the word "ditto" under the question they most like. Whichever question gets the most "dittoes" I will answer in a post next Friday. And so on and so forth into perpetuity. It's not the most elegant system, but it does work.

Questions that get chosen tend to be somewhat short, very direct and clearly written. The earlier in the day you ask, the more time you have to get dittoes. Last week one question won by a landslide, but most weeks there is a near-tie broken by only one or two votes, so don't despair if your question isn't the first or hasn't gotten tons of dittoes really early in the morning. Also: many of the questions I've answered so far have won only after having not gotten enough votes in previous weeks, so recycled questions are a really good idea, actually.

Hmmmm... what else? Voting closes at 12:00. I might not turn off comments, but I will simply erase them in moderation after 12:00.

Also, thank you so much for your questions. Some of my very favorite posts have been written in response to a really great, thought provoking question. Thank you so much for making this experience a conversation, and a sharing of ideas. I'm so blessed to have this dang blog, and blessed by each one of you who visits.

All right, BRING IT.

(PS, does someone want to make me a FFAQ graphic? If you make me one and I like it and use it, I'll totally pimp you out.. I may even pimp you out if I don't end up using it. Email me at joshua (don't forget the "ua") dot weed at gmail dot com.)

Top ten reasons I shouldn't be writing a Tuesday's Top Ten List right now.

2013-03-06T09:16:00.000-08:00

10. It's too early in the morning to feel clever.

9. I just finished a run and so I'm drenched in sweat.

8. I have to leave in 22 minutes. And counting.

7. I found out I passed my MFT licensing exam yesterday, so really I should be busy celebrating! (That one's a stretch, right? I needed to work that in there somewhere.)

6. I haven't eaten breakfast yet.

5. I haven't showered.

4. I'm gonna publish this list even though it's probably crappy because I'm so rushed, but I won't realize how bad it is until I reread it later tonight after it's WAY too late to do anything about it.

3. I just did a humor post. So it's probably time for something serious.

2. 16 minutes. And still counting.

And finally,

1. It's Wednesday.

Food Poisoning UPDATED

2013-03-04T21:56:00.000-08:00

*warning--this post talks about stuff that goes into toilets*

*also Lolly says I need to clarify that she approves of this post 100%*

Over the weekend Lolly got really bad food poisoning. But she's ~~insane~~ a tough cookie, so even though she was--how do I put this delicately?--bleeding into the toilet, she kept insisting that she was fine. And our doctor, whom she called, insisted the same.

Personally, I feel that when you're "lighting the toilet up with red" as the doctor described it, you have permission to claim you are on your death bed.

But not Lolly. Here was our conversation yesterday morning before church:

Josh: How are you feeling?

Lolly: Well, kinda dizzy actually. Not awesome.

Josh: Why are you getting ready for church??? Are we sure you shouldn’t be going in to the doctor?

Lolly: No, no… it’s not a big deal. I'm dizzy cuz I’ve lost a lot of blood. That’s just part of life.

Josh: Or it’s part of death.

Lolly: Right. Which is also just part of life….

Josh: I'm taking you to the hospital.

Lolly: You're taking me to church. I will be fine.

Josh: Or dead.

Lolly: Or dead. Which counts for extra points at church.

Josh: You don't need extra points! You are already like angel status because you're married to me.

Lolly: You need to find your shoes so we can go.

Josh: *sings* If you leave me now, you’ll take away the biggest part of me, oooh eeee, baaaby please go to the hospital…

Lolly: All right girls, let's get in the car for church!

There was nothing I could do to deter her. Can somebody tell me how to talk sense into this girl?

Thankfully she really does seem to be just fine now. But I fear scenarios like this in the future. Like her getting her arm chopped off in a car accident and insisting we take Anna to her violin lesson before getting her appendage re-attached, or her wanting to grab a quick bite to eat before getting pesky medical attention to repair an axe wound to the neck. I'd be like "but you're bleeding" and she'd be like "yes that's just part of life" and I'd be like "you are literally going to die if we feed the kids right now!" and she'd be like "it's okay I have baby wipes for the blood all over the seat..."

One thing's for certain. I didn't marry a prissy girl. Which gives me plenty of space to be the prissy gay husband. *limp wristed wave*

UPDATE: This isn't really an update as much as me having forgotten to link to this post about when Lolly went to Disneyland even though she was literally throwing up in the bushes. Klassy. And determined.

Challenges of Being Married to a Gay Man -- A Post By Lolly (FFAQ VI)

2013-03-02T01:52:00.002-08:00

Hey guys,

First off, I have to tell you that I had been writing this post for hours when Tessa woke up from her nap. I went upstairs to get her and while I was gone, Viva turned my computer off and I lost all of my work! I think there may be flames coming out of my ears right now! So, I will take a deep breath and write it all again. I’m telling myself it will be better the second time, right? UGH!

I feel nervous about writing this post. I think one of the reasons why I’ve been having such a hard time is because my answers will reveal a lot about myself. It reveals my biases, my insecurities and weaknesses. But, I figure, what the heck, let’s go ahead and do it.

So, the question I’m addressing is from reader Nicole (who won by a landslide!). Her question:

I would like to know some of the things Lolly struggles with as the wife of a gay man. :)

I hope you don’t mind if I rephrase this question in the following way: “What are the challenges of being married to Josh Weed because he’s gay?”

Let’s just hop right into the part of this question that I get asked the most, shall we? That is, of course, about our sex life. Josh and I have a very fulfilling sex life, but we both definitely gave something up. Our relationship didn’t start out with intense lust or passion. Nor has Josh ever been infatuated with me in the traditional sense. Now, I’m the kind of girl that always liked it when guys were infatuated with me, so the fact that my husband has never felt those feelings for me is sad at times.

The challenge, for me, is to focus on all of the amazing things we do have instead of the things we don’t have. I recently found this article written by Shannon Ethridge. I really loved her words because it completely validated the intimacy that Josh and I share.

“I suggest that sexual intensity…is simply not the same as intimacy. If it were, then prostitutes and porn stars would be the most emotionally and relationally fulfilled people on the planet. That doesn’t seem to be the case.

Does the entangling of arms and legs and the exchange of bodily fluids scratch the human itch for intimate connection? Or is sex just the closest thing we can imagine to what we’re really craving: a deeper spiritual and emotional connection, both with our Creator and with His creation?

…when we selfishly strive for orgasm through pornography, masturbation or illicit sexual encounters rather than cultivating sexual ecstasy with our marriage partner, sexual ecstasy is only “half-baked.” Love and relational intimacy are the “yeast” that allows our sexual ecstasy to rise to its highest level.

…If deep and spiritual intimacy is what humans seek, then relational or sexual intensity can never satisfy our deepest longings or heal our oldest wounds… deep wounds will be healed by sacrificial love (of which Christ is the incarnate example) and intimate relationship (both human and divine). Soul-deep intimacy is what we seek, and it’s ultimately found in the God who created human sexuality.”

That’s beautiful, isn’t it? Isn’t that really what all women want? Don’t we want soul-deep intimacy? I can honestly say I have that with Josh, so who cares if he has never looked at me the way the creeper down the street has? I just have to keep that in mind sometimes.

Another intimacy challenge I have is one that I feel most women can relate to, no matter who you’re married to. For me, a lot of the sexual process takes place inside my head. The things that I’m thinking while I load the dishwasher can have an impact on our sex that night. So, for me, I have to pay particular attention to the things that I tell myself. I’ve gotten a lot better at it over the years. For instance, I don’t say things like, “I’m not what Josh wants” or “He’s not attracted to my body” or “He’d rather have something else.”

The truth is he chose me and so I really am what he ultimately wants and loves. Am I the perfect embodiment of his sexual fantasies? Uh, no. I am so far from it. On the flipside, is he the perfect embodiment of my sexual fantasies? Uh, no. He’s not even black! (Just look up Boris Kodjoe, ladies, and you’ll see what I’m saying.) The truth is, everyone must choose their ideal lover as a packaged set of features. Rarely does someone find their soul mate housed in their sexual ideal.

I have been blessed with good self-esteem, so I really try and harness that in the bedroom. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I think I’m a beautiful person. Although I have been struggling to lose 20 pounds since I had Tessa, I can still feel sexy. What I actively do is focus on my positive thoughts and feelings, especially when we’re being intimate. Nothing will kill my enjoyment more than my own critical observation of fat rolls. Instead I might choose to wear something that makes me feel beautiful. I might focus on how my hair looks amazing that day. I might pay particular attention to his enjoyment. Or I may choose to surrender myself to him completely, trusting in his love for me. No matter what, there is no room for criticism or negativity in my head while we’re being intimate.

The last challenge that I would say I have with Josh’s sexual orientation is probably the hardest one for me. Josh is my eternal love. I want to be his everything. I want to fulfill his every desire, but I can’t. There are things he wants and things he needs that I can’t give him. That is very hard for me. We have gone through some difficult times. Times where both of our hearts have been broken and it was no one’s fault. We have had to process through some very confusing and emotional things together. These things almost always had to do with attachment issues that were very confusing and we had no one to talk to and no guidebook or standard to reference. All we had was each other. The ironic thing was, at times, our true love for each other made it that much harder, because it didn’t change the hard things that were happening. But it has allowed us to connect through intensely honest and intimate verbal communication and figure things out, even when it is hard.

In the end, we work through it all. We sometimes stay up until four in the morning trying to figure things out. Josh knows he can tell me anything and that what he shares with me will be kept safe. I know that I can always trust him. We know that we can both be very real, even if it hurts, because hiding feelings will only result in pain. We have both shared things that were very hard for us to process, but we did it with love and respect and a knowledge that we would always be there for each other. We’ve often said that we could talk our way out of any problem and I truly believe that. We will always be there for each other. And the funny thing is, sometimes the darkest most difficult moments have yielded breakthroughs that have helped us to be closer than we’ve ever been. That’s the way life works sometimes, I think.

And so, I can tell you with all my heart that, even with our challenges, Josh Weed is definitely worth it. Our love is amazing. Yes, we sacrifice for each other, but isn’t that what true love is all about? Loving someone more than you love yourself? Letting go of self-interest and being all you can be for the person you choose? In my opinion, and in our experience, it is the “sacrificial love”—that sweet acceptance of a whole person, flaws and foibles and large deficits included right along with their amazing talents and attributes, and the giving up of desired things in favor of being with the one we choose to love—that makes our relationship so beautiful and brings us closer to each other, and closer to God himself. I wouldn’t trade it--or him-- for anything.

10 ways to know you have ADD

2013-02-26T23:42:00.001-08:00

10. You open a browser window to look up a word for something you are writing. Three hours later you find yourself reading a Wikipedia article on Megan Follows after having watched every youtube interview she's ever done. (True story.)

9. You arrive late to that very important weekly meeting. Every. Single. Week. No matter what.

8. You can count on one hand the number of times you have gotten a school assignment done early.

7. You didn't finish counting the number of times before getting distracted by that really weird spot on your pinky-finger-nail and forgetting what you were doing.

6. You feel hornswoggled every time you look at a clock.

5. In your youth you traveled by bus to an orchestra concert in which you were to play a solo, and when you got there, realized you forgot to bring your violin.

4. A person hushes you in a meeting because you accidentally find yourself clicking your pen, bouncing your leg, tapping the table, or making some other unconscious disruption. You apologize. Three minutes later, the same person hushes you again. You are mortified, apologize again and stop. Before the meeting is over, you realize you started doing it again, but this time nobody pointed it out because nobody can believe it's actually happening.

3. Journal entry: March 3rd, 1988 (dictated to mom). "My lunchbox disappeared at school! I don't know what happened to it. It just went away. (This is the fourth lunchbox this year.)"

2. You couldn't finish reading this list without checking your email, updating Facebook or looking up the word hornswoggle.

And finally

FFAQ VI vote! + we're doing a fireside in Portland this weekend

2013-02-22T10:55:00.001-08:00

Oh hi!

First, here is what we're going to be up to this weekend. If you're in the Portland area, we'd absolutely love it if you came to meet us.

Here's a copy of the announcement that was distributed:

Join the Beaverton Stake Presidency for a Fireside Panel Discussion and Question/Answer Session on Same-Gender Attraction

Adults - Saturday, February 23rd, 7:00 – 8:00 pm. @ Beaverton Stake Center: All the wards have now had a joint Priesthood/Relief Society presentation on the subject of same-gender attraction. This fireside is a follow-up to those Sunday discussions and will feature a panel discussion with a question/answer session. The panel consists of a father and his son (now an adult) who experiences same-gender attraction. They will discuss the family dynamics of the son’s coming out. The son, who is now married, and his wife will discuss how they are making their marriage work. Another panel member is an active member of the church and former Elder’s Quorum president who will discuss the challenges he faces in his sojourn through life. The final member of the panel is a recent convert to the Church who has experienced same-gender attraction his whole life. He will discuss how he has been able to make the changes necessary to live the standards of the gospel.

Most all of us have been touched by someone we know who experiences same-gender attraction. This panel discussion will prove to be a very informative and timely discussion related to the Church’s stand on this issue and the practical aspects of living the gospel. Parents of youth may want to attend the adult fireside to determine if they feel it would be appropriate for their youth (ages 12 – 18) to attend the youth fireside the next night.

Youth (ages 12 – 18)– Sunday, February 24th, 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm. @ Beaverton Stake Center: If you and your parents feel it is appropriate, please join us for this fireside which will include the same presentation by the Stake President as was given to the adults, followed by the same panel discussion as listed above. Your parents are welcome to attend with you.

Can I just say? It's so incredible to be involved in this discussion in a stake. I'm so appreciative to the Beaverton Stake Presidency for allowing this fantastic opportunity. We already had a panel discussion with their stake leadership which was wonderful. These steps are an incredible way to help members become more conversant in this issue. I hope other stakes will follow suit!

Second, it's time to ask FFAQ questions!! (I was late in my FFAQ response last time and just got it up yesterday, but it's already time to vote on next Friday's. So that I can answer it the next Friday. And then have a vote the next. And thus it will continue, so on and so forth, into perpetuity. Because I'm really good at consistency, you see.)

Anyhow, if you have a question you've been itching to ask, please leave it in the comments. If you see a question that you want answered, post "ditto" as a reply. The question asked that gets the most dittoes will be what I answer next week.

Tips:

1. If you've asked a question in the past that didn't make the votes, try it again. Several of the questions so far have been asked more than once before they won.

2. The earlier you ask, the more time you have to get dittoes. Voting closes tonight at 12:00.

3. Questions that get dittoes tend to be relatively short, well written and clear.

4. Don't be afraid to post questions. Even ones that get relatively few votes have often inspired later blog posts. I do read them all (of course), and it's good for me to see what people are wondering about.

All right, we're off to Portlandia. May your weekend be merry and bright and filled with awesome.

FFAQ V Answer--Is life always ponies and butterflies and--dare I say it--unicorns?

2013-02-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

Last FFAQ resulted in a near-tie between two questions. This one edged the other (about boy scouts) out by one ditto. Here it is (posed by anonymous):

Everything that I’ve read or heard from you and Lolly about your situation has been positive. Is it all rainbows and sunshine all the time? I know that you’ve made the best decision for you and your family, but aren’t there times when it’s hard?

A parallel to my own life: I know that eating healthy is what’s right for me, but sometimes I just want ice cream, darn it. But I can occasionally indulge without hurting my loved ones and ruining my life.

Do you face frustrations with your lifestyle, and if so, how do you deal with them?

Great question, Anonymous!

First of all, let's get one thing straight (do you see what I did there?): what you're reading here is a blog. This is not, of course, a real-time reflection of our life. What you would get if you were seeing a real-time reflection of our life would be reeeeeeaaaaallly boring.

It would look something like this:

*Josh wakes up*
*Josh stays in bed for 37 minutes looking at nothing-in-particular on his phone*
"Get out of bed now," says Lolly.
*Josh stays in bed 15 more minutes playing a game on his phone*
"Do you even have work today?" asks Lolly.
*Josh rolls out of bed, takes a shower, goes downstairs and tries to find a bunch of healthy stuff for lunch*
*Josh runs up and down the stairs about 4394 times to get the various things he is trying with all his brain power not to forget (e.g. keys, driver's license, lunch, water, briefcase, computer, phone, phone charger, etc)*
*Josh leaves the house with precisely 15 seconds to spare, hoping that every single traffic light he encounters is magically green*
*Josh says a swear out loud when he hits every red light imaginable and also gets stuck behind a school bus*
*Josh arrives four minutes late to work*
*Josh swears out loud again when he realizes he forgot the key to his office*

And so forth....

Because of this lack of real-time data, often blogs get pretty hyper focused on one emotional pole. If it's a sad blog (like this used to be when it was about my ADD the first few months it existed) then the posts are often maudlin and ridiculous and really embarrassing and I have half a mind to take them down except I have ADD so I never get around to remembering to. If it's a happy blog (like it is now) then the posts often talk about happy or funny things, or at least tend to paint some difficult topics in a humorous or optimistic way. This is just how blogs and online "presence" work. You can't share everything so what you choose to share becomes an inaccurate, though earnest, representation of life.

Thus, it might appear that we are happy 100% of the time. Or that we might be trying to pretend to be.

I assure you we are not.

I assure you that Lolly and I bicker regularly.

I assure you that my three daughters spend about 75% of their lives either crying, yelling, or saying the words "so and so hit me!" or "I didn't make that mess!" (The other 25% is spent being too precocious and adorable for words, thus making the other 75% totally worth it.)

I assure you that our life is filled with all of the challenges of any life. We have stresses and illnesses and cars that break down and messes to clean and sometimes we're really grumpy. Sometimes I'm running groups all night and don't get to kiss my girls goodnight. Sometimes work gets daunting, and we get overburdened. Sometimes this new life of ours--with all its amazing opportunities--gets really, really overwhelming. Right now we're trying really hard to make sure we don't lose sight of what's important to us: God, each other, and our girls.

Today, for example, I felt horrible when I woke up. I felt bad that I hadn't posted here enough, and that I hadn't written enough in our book, and I worried that all the public stuff we did last week was a disaster and we just didn't realize it yet. I felt that I was just not measuring up. I kinda freaked out and Lolly had to soothe me because she's a miracle worker.

So yeah, sometimes we have meltdowns. It happens.

Sometimes the girls dump out an entire box of baking soda.

And then make baking soda angels.

There are definitely times when our situation is hard. But it's probably not harder than most people's lives, if that makes any sense. We're just living a life. And it's a pretty joy-filled, awesome, fun, fulfilling life at that.

As I reread the question, I think what I've said has only partially answered your query. I infer from the ice cream comparison that you're wondering if my attractions themselves are difficult.

Yes. They are. I'm not gonna lie. I decided to never have romantic or sexual interaction with the gender I am oriented towards. That can be difficult sometimes. Really, really difficult. I gave up something pretty huge to live the life I live, and I would never claim otherwise. And Lolly, likewise, sacrifices important things for our marriage as well, which would probably require its own post. (Future FFAQ???)

At the same time, I'm pretty sure any man who is being honest will tell you that there are times when he feels sexual attractions toward people that aren't his spouse, and that those feelings can, at times, be very compelling. Learning to appropriately manage those moments is what adulthood is all about in my opinion. All married men (and married people, for that matter) need to know how to process powerful attractions that arise, and then choose to focus on the one person they've chosen to love. It's possible that my situation makes those moments a little more intense than for other guys. Perhaps it doesn't. I think it might only be possible to assess on a case by case basis.

But the fact is, while I have hard moments (just like any person) I am not in turmoil. There's no seedy underbelly to my existence. The reason it sounds like rainbows and butterflies as I write and talk about our life is because we live a life that is filled with joy--squeaky clean, brilliant, family-oriented, unadulterated joy. The kind that sinks deep in your soul and sustains you and helps you go to sleep at night with a smile on your face--like napping after a large delicious meal. You can't fake that kind of joy. You just can't.

Plus, I find that when it comes to being gay, it is other stuff (besides attraction) that seems to be difficult for me. I've written a lot now about how difficult friendship has been for me, and how I've only just in recent years learned how to be at all vulnerable in that arena. Also, now that I'm out, there are other hard things. I've been blatantly discriminated against (though, admittedly, I do generally enjoy privilege that many gay people do not because I am in a hetero-normative marriage). I've had opportunities shrivel up into nothingness because I'm gay, and even because I use the word "gay" to describe myself. I've had some pretty hateful mud slung at me and at my family. None of that is fun. By no means do I intend to minimize the difficult and over-emphasize the wonderful. I think with my check-ins and various posts about my struggles, as well as my utter honesty in any interviews Lolly and I do, you hopefully get a decent representation of what our life actually looks like: a life that is cheesy, Hallmark card, Christmastime commercial happy interspersed with occasional hard moments that are also very real.

Fact is, things are really, really good for us. I love my life. I view myself as incredibly lucky. I have two jobs I love, a gorgeous woman I get to spend my life with who is my best friend and lover, three beautiful daughters, a wonderful home, a connection to God, amazing friends, and a life filled with incredible opportunities to share and grow and interact with awesome people (like you, whoever you are.)

In fact, this is part of why I do FFAQ in the first place, and why those posts tend to be my most vulnerable. I want people to know that they can ask me anything. I have nothing to hide, and I'm not afraid to talk about hard things. Here at The Weed, I try very hard to be real. Hence our tagline "All kinds of real." I see absolutely no value in sugarcoating or avoiding hard things. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and sugarcoating life is disingenuous and leads to poor mental health.

So please know that what you're getting here is as close to real-life as I can possibly muster. And if you have questions about hard things, continue to use FFAQ as an opportunity to explore complex issues. I love answering hard questions. I don't have time to answer all questions, but I will try hard to answer any question voted on with integrity and honesty. And if you ask a question one week that doesn't get chosen, do what anonymous did and try it again! You never know when it will gain critical mass.

All right, time to go make this day my biznatch.

Ten things a husband should never say to a stay at home mom as he gets home from work

2013-02-19T23:46:00.002-08:00

I'm so freaking amazing at graphic art....

Top ten things a husband should never say to a SAHM when he gets home from work

10. Is that what you wore all day?

9. You remind me so much of my mom.

8. You don't need a break. You've been home all day!

7. I have a really busy day tomorrow. Since you're not doing anything, can you run some errands for me?

6. Hey, I brought you something *hands over a bag full of dirty Tupperware from lunch*

5. Listen, I think I've come up with a system to help you keep the house cleaner during the day...

4. Man, I wish I had a job where I could wear pajamas all day and do whatever I wanted...

3. Why are the kids never this happy to see you?

2. I really hope that smell isn't dinner...

1. I've had a really long day. Can't you keep the kids quiet?

Can you think of any others?

Utah Post--Take two--VALENTINE'S DAY

2013-02-14T18:55:00.000-08:00

All right. I'm at the airport again. We're going home. We're exhausted. But we had a really, really good day.

Here's a photo.

See? Exhausted.

So, our interview today went incredibly well. We absolutely loved the experience and can't wait to share it when it is ready.

Plus, we got to eat at not one, not two, but three of our favorite Utah joints today. Right before the interview, we were grabbing lunch and we happened upon a Leatherby's. (It's an ice cream shop that has the best cheese sauce and fries and ice cream in the world) And just barely we ate at the Cafe Rio here in the airport. So, pork salad? CHECK.

But the thing that made Lolly's dreams come true.

This? Au contraire...

It was this.

That suitcase is filled with: CAKE.

And that bag? Also filled with CAKE.

That's right, even on a one-day trip to Utah, Lolly managed to get us to Schmidt's Bakery cottage so she could get her favorite cake ever. Which happens to the cake that we had at our wedding. And we ate at Leatherby's the day we found out we were pregnant with Anna. And we ate at Cafe Rio right when our post went viral. So today was this mishmash of bloggy stuff plus romantic stuff plus delicious food plus a really stressful interview that ended up going really, really well.

Have I mentioned that I love Lolly Shea Weed with all my heart? Because I do.

Happy V-day everyone.

I'm at the airport. And I'm also not dead.

2013-02-14T08:42:00.001-08:00

So, this week we've been involved in a super-duper secret project of awesomeness that I'm gonna have to tell you about later because there's a gag order and if I mention it here on the blog Higher Ups will come into my house and burn all of my electronics and maybe even raze my house to rubble.

So, yeah. As a teaser, I will say:

1. It involves cameras.
2. It is lasting various days.
3. Our house is cleaner than it has ever been.

In other news, we're here in SLC because we're going to be on the Mormon Stories podcast. This is an interview that's been a long time in coming. We were hesitant about it at first, but when we were approached again to do, we felt very clearly that we should do it. So it's happening all day.

Gotta go, we're on our way!

One of these things is not like the others

2013-02-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

Conversation between me and my two (straight) friends on our way to a movie.

JT: So, what should we see?

Me: I don't know. What about Les Mis? *laughs at his own joke*

Konrad: I've already seen it.

JT: Me too.

Me: I haven't....

Konrad (to JT): What did you think of it?

JT: I liked it pretty well. But the vocals were sub-par.

Konrad: Exactly. I saw it on Broadway and it was incredible. So I found the movie was a little lacking.

JT: Right, the music was just not up to snuff. They did a pretty decent job, but it was nothing like some of the other productions I've seen...

Konrad: I completely agree. In fact, I downloaded the soundtrack before seeing the movie. I kind of regret that now because it damaged the experience. *pulls out phone and plays a track from the movie*

Me: ?????????

JT: See, Anne Hathaway did a great job. But again, I wonder if her performance...

Me (interrupting): Guys, I'm starting to feel a little threatened here. Are you trying to make me feel insecure in my gayness? Because you just outgayed me. Both of you. Big time.

JT and Konrad: *laugh and then move on to discussing whether or not they'll be playing tackle football the next morning*

Conclusion: metrosexuality is making things incredibly confusing. And also, I think I owe it to gaydom to see a production of Les Mis at some point in my life.

A Valentine's Dance earlier that night. JT's to my right and Konrad's to his right. Note the awesome trellis with ivy on it. And Christmas lights. (Couples in order: Broadbents, Crabtrees, Tylers, Weedenheimers, Silvans)

I love this woman.

A lot.