The Biggest Mistake I’ve Made As A Man
By: John Devore
Tags: Mental Health, Self, Family, Masculinity, Self Improvement

Not letting others in is the mistake from which all other mistakes spring forth. And I have made so many mistakes in my life.

I have an arts degree so that’s a pretty big mistake. In the late ’90s, I wore a goatee. Once, I ate LSD before visiting the Air & Space Museum in Washington D.C. Not a good idea.

Another mistake I made, over and over, was confusing integrity with insecurity. I told myself I didn’t take risks because I was humble. My fear of failure can be so self-righteous. There were relationships I ended because I told myself she deserved better, never mind that was her decision to make. I can’t tell you how many times I thought “hey what a good guy I am.” Especially when I was behaving like a shitheel. There is no such thing as a ‘good guy,’ of course. There are just humans, and some of whom are more honest with themselves than others.

There was a time I probably wouldn’t have admitted to my mistakes. I was a very competitive young man which means I wasn’t always able to own up to my failures. But who am I fooling? I’m 60% fuck-up, 40% lucky to be here. Please, my child, sit at my feet so that I may impart upon you my hard-won wisdom: you can’t get far in life without a community.

That’s right. You need a family. That family can either be the one you were born with or, you know, you can choose. The people you love platonically and romantically can also be your family. My dude, your dudes can be your family. You know what else? You can have both kinds of families and you can even combine them into one mega-family!

I didn’t know what to do with my own sorrow then so I stored it in bottles of Cutty Sark, which I had to drain first

I am currently trying to build my mega-family. It is slow work. I text, I call, I RSVP to invitations. In the past, I have failed to call up friends on their birthdays. I have neglected to ask loved ones how they’re doing. I’m sorry, you know who you are, for ignoring your voice mails that one time you needed someone to help you move a couch. I have not shown up and now I try to show up. That’s simple enough but still difficult. Thankfully, I know many forgiving people.

This was a long time ago but the way I use to avoid listening to my mom after my dad died still makes me wince. That’s a big mistake. I didn’t know what to do with my own sorrow then so I stored it in bottles of Cutty Sark, which I had to drain first. I didn’t know what to do with my family’s grief, either. She’d try to talk to me and I’d just blow out the candle in my skull. I am not proud of this, but that’s that.

What I didn’t understand about empathy, then, is that I didn’t have to fix anything. My mother didn’t need me to save her. She just needed me to listen, and I couldn’t even do that. I was incapable of sitting with her in the present. I much preferred to live in an alternate reality where had no responsibility to anyone. A non-family man.

There was a time I believed the secret to happiness was never having to answer to anybody. Never picking up the phone or answering the door or writing back. No man is an island? Bullshit. I was an island. I, mean, an iceberg is an island, right? I was a dead block of ice floating in an endless ocean. And I use to wonder why I’d end up crying on my futon couch.

Anyway, pick up the walkie-talkie. You’re not fighting terrorists in a skyscraper alone.