Matt Joseph Diaz

This week: Find what fuels you, and don't beat yourself up if what's fueling you right now is "surviving."

This week Matt talks about the new job he never expected to have, and how changing your career path isn't just perfectly normal — it shows how much you've grown as a person.

How embarrassing is this story, and is the value in it (be it entertainment, educational, or both) enough that the benefit in sharing it outweighs how mortifying it is?

This week, Matt shares what he wishes he learned in high school.

Being asked about my weight-loss “secrets” make me uncomfortable. It feels very different from people wanting to know about my story. It feels like being asked to provide a shortcut.

Taking the time to find clothes that I liked, to dye my hair, and get tattooed — for the first time I was building a place of my own.

When I lost that ability for a while, being too weak and swollen to really put the effort in, it felt like I’d lost a part of myself. It felt like I’d regressed, like I’d gotten to the finish line and was forced back into the race.

This is the trap we fall into when we discuss recovery, emotional development, mental health, or body image: believing there’s a destination.

This week, Matt kicks off our Conversation series on coming out with his own story.

If I get into a heterosexual relationship and spend the rest of my life with that person, I will still be bisexual. I will still feel that attraction to the man on the other side of the bar, even if I’m in love with my partner who happens to be a woman.

These days, I’m gentler with people than I’ve ever been. I’ve learned of the beauty and strength in each and every person regardless of where they come from or what they’ve been through — and with every interaction, I understand more why Mike saw the best in people.

In the spring of 2013, I met a woman on OKCupid. She was petite, with a kind smile and a voice so soft that it could melt all your troubles away. Her shock of red curls went down to her shoulders — and because of this, and the fact that we no longer speak, let's call her Ann.

Ann was a few years older than I, wise and mature. She also, it turned out, spent her professional life beating up strangers for their sexual satisfaction.