family
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When I was little, my mom told me she was going to redecorate my room. I remember the thrill of choosing paint swatches—so deep a royal blue it felt like diving into the night sky. As the first coats went on, the room took on a hushed glow, and we pressed glow‑in‑the‑dark stars into the
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Each year, Easter meets me in a different place. This year, I needed to write through the noise—to return to what’s real, to what still rises. This is that reflection.
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As Good Friday arrives, I find myself grieving not just the crucifixion of Jesus, but the crucifixion of everything He stood for. In a world where religion is being twisted into a weapon, and hate is preached in the name of love, I wrote this letter to God. It is a cry for truth, for…
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Alexander Leon once said, “Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves; we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity to minimize humiliation and prejudice.” Those words have always resonated with me, capturing the challenges I faced growing up queer. Early on, I learned to conceal parts of my true self—my interests, my
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My father was a loving and accepting man. I watched him grow and evolve over the years—his beliefs shifting as he learned, as he listened, as life opened his eyes in new ways. He never clung to an idea simply because it was familiar. Instead, he allowed himself to question, to reconsider, to change. When
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If you’ve ever found yourself drawn into the orbit of a narcissist, you know the dizzying contradiction they embody: one minute, they’re warm, attentive, and seemingly all in; the next, they’re cold, cruel, and impossibly detached. It’s as if you’re dealing with two distinct people—a light and a dark—when in reality, it’s the same person,
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Losing your eyesight as you age is terrifying. I don’t talk about it much, but every year, my vision gets worse. And with that comes a quiet panic—one that sneaks up on me in unexpected moments. Like when I struggle to read something I know I could see just fine a few months ago, or
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I saw this quote by Charles Bukowski, and it hit me like a brick to the skull: “I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with
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Have you ever heard that we lose 21 grams at the moment of our death? Some say it’s the weight of the soul—a notion that feels both mysterious and deeply profound when it comes to remembering someone as irreplaceable as my dad. Lately, I’ve been immersed in memories of him—cherishing the warmth of his laughter,
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I was thinking the other day about something my grandfather used to say: “God didn’t put you on this earth to serve yourself. He put you here to help others.” That was one of his core beliefs, and he made sure we understood it. The older I get, the more I see just how right
Steven LaChance Blog 