Life Isn't Always Fair...
Why do we go around telling people to buck up and deal with their shit just because "other people have it worse” ? Or because “big girls/boys don’t cry"?
Can we be real for a minute? Life isn’t always fair - regardless of the hands you get dealt from Mr. Joker down below. And is it so wrong that some people need a little breakdown in their life in order to find some healing stones? Look, sometimes even the best have it rough and life just fucking sucks, and for no reason other than shit just sucks. The real truth is that those times come for everyone, regardless of one’s position in life. And sometimes you really have to stop and look deep within yourself to decide what's really worth it to you - in the long run, of course. Basically, life is going to keep spinning regardless and your existence is simply what you make it. Days will pass. And they will turn into weeks and then months and years…and you get the point. What you do with those days may not seem like they matter much at the time - and what you are able to do with them might even be (or seem) limited, but the thing is…you really never know - and what you do with each minute might actually matter more than you realize in the moment. And if it doesn’t seem like it does, just find a way to make it matter more - at least for/to yourself. .
If you can’t tell already, I am kinda on this SPEAK UP about mental health kick. Call me cynical but I don’t think enough people talk about what is actually going on inside their head. And more than that, I think it is fair to say that your average person isn't walking around spilling all their deepest darkest secrets, just for Karen down the street to frown upon. I know - for a fucking fact - that it isn’t human nature for one to go around spilling all of the ugly parts inside of them. I mean, why not walk around every freaking day living your best life? I am kind of kidding when I say that for one reason…mainly because it is a two way STREET, and you know there are going to be crosshairs in the middle. See, it makes me feel better when I get all dolled up for the day. It makes my day feel “fresh” so to say and that gives me a kind of motivation. But, for a world slowing falling apart, I observe such “perfect people” when I am out in public and I wonder how many people are actually fighting demons inside that nobody else can see - all while walking the perfect walk - every fucking day. And of course, that makes me wonder why more people aren’t speaking out? And I do see things changing, don’t get me wrong, but not big changes. Not the kind of changes that co-exist across cultures and colors and borders. And it doesn’t matter what type of border we are talking about. The borders are the problems. And if they aren’t, then the red tape and 'do not cross’ lines are to blame.
Things happen to people. And sometimes those things change people on the inside - for forever. And sometimes those “changes” can affect every choice one makes thereafter. And sometimes those choices are simply a last resort escape from a death_by_suicide type ending - even if it doesn’t appear to be that on ones outer-shell (GO HULK!). Look, I’ve lived in many different kinds of places, and some of those places, others would refer to as “living on the streets". See, I stayed in a house but it wasn’t the type of house I was raised in - with basic things like heat, filtered water, a stove, or a microwave. We would have to scramble together the funds just to get a ghetto hotel room with a hot shower and a missing peep-hole…Classy, I know! And I didn’t have enough money to buy food to eat, BUT I did somehow manage to find a way to treat my fix most days, until each high would drift away - and I’d come back to the low reality that I was stuck inside. In those moments, the guilt_and_embarrassment would kick back in - revved up with a drowning vengeance, and the shame would start flowing back to the unbearable mess that I had made of my life. It became a never ending cycle of bad choices and the holes that I was digging started getting deeper and deeper with every day that passed - as you would expect when you are aimlessly digging your own grave. Let me tell you folks - the deeper down you go, the closer you get to crossing paths with that Joker you are have been betting against at the table...and it doesn’t take long before actual rock bottom is the reality you are living in.
And you guys, some roads you cannot get off of. And isn’t that worth talking about more? Isn’t preparing our children for the possibility of some realities, without scaring them straight the hard way? This is real deal talk - this is owning your demons (OLD and NEW) in the eyes of your children, in the hopes that maybe their underdeveloped brains will grasp just a portion of what you say. Within my time of healing, I have found myself driving around a lot and finding some extra laughter in the little things around me - sometimes. I have also found myself driving straight through some of the darkest days of my life, from a time when I was sure I wouldn’t mind if my last day was every day. Those days were back when I was staying in the hood - where you never knew what you were going to run into on any given corner. And homelessness is/was a real fucking thing, under every well covered bridge area. And as I was driving through this round, I found myself thinking back to the days I was living (hardly - at best) on those same streets, and it reminded me how low of a state that is…and of course, it got Ms. Wonder Woman wondering what their story was and how they landed on such shitty ground…and how I (an innocent bystander of their life) would never know...
Let’s twister this…It took me back to something I hadn’t thought about in awhile - a memory so to say. Go back with me...My parents had came to that shell of a house in their attempt to bring me back “home”- keep in mind, that “house” was under the ownership of a meth addict, so picture Hoarders Inside and Out, without basic necessities, tin foil on the windows, and mini_hut_by_room for each tweaker squatting down that evening, This was the first night that Baby Daddy #1 really hit me square in the middle of my face - full fucking power. He was high on meth and he ended up calling the cops on himself, with a warrant, which means he ended up going to jail…And I ended up dipping on a hike halfway across a not_so_safe area, at night, feeling safer than the area I had just left - which is really not saying very much. Anyways, my parents tried to come to the rescue, but instead took pictures of the outside of “my location”, which killed the whole Here 2 Rescue vibe they were hoping for. And I am not trying to hate on my parents…but can you imagine what that felt like for the owner of the home, who was fighting demons bigger than they would ever realize, yet alone live? And they were trying to help me, but in reality they became just another part of the bigger problem…it just wasn’t the problem that was breaking them...
And that’s why mental health, life, and alternative methods to healing start to get messy. If you don’t catch things at the perfect time, the end up consuming you. And once you let them/it consume you, you start to let others in where they don’t belong. And that’s when you start to make choices that might just start to affect the chances you get at life, aka the extra doors that start opening/closing - depending on each choice you make thereafter. Yet with all that, and everything everyone goes through to get where they are, they/we still drive by and pass some kind of judgement (harmless or not, kind or less than), even though you will never know their story. Doesn’t that make you think? Even just in the smallest way? That something led them to the very moment that they are living in, and they don’t even have their own place to do it in? And if they do, does it matter if they can’t do it out in a public type of way - due to the worry of being judged by others? And trust me guys, the one reason I am having some of these ”realizations” is because I ended up losing my mind out in public...
But that is the point. I sit here all night, literally ashamed of what happened. But I also drive around my hood trying to act like it doesn’t bother me in the smallest way. I mean, at the end of the day, I cannot go back in time…which means it kinda is just what it is. But maybe if more people didn’t hide who they really were like deep on the inside, more people wouldn’t feel so ashamed when they break. And maybe if people didn’t feel so ashamed when they broke, they wouldn’t feel like there was only way other way out - death…or at least a walk at life that resembles it..
Look, even if you are ever so perfect today, you still have a story to tell. You didn’t get there from nothing. And the bad represents the good you found. So find a way to change the world, with or without you in it. And find a way to speak about it...With or without borders. Find a way to love - just one thing. And make that enough. Because even the worst moments can be turned around - basically given a second chance at life in the darkest hour…before it’s too late.
That’s what your voice can do…no matter how small. So find a way to do it. And if that means doing it to yourself - THEN HELL WITH IT…talk to your fucking self until you feel the change you are wanting to see.