Who is it that you feed? There’s a story told among Native Americans that an elder is explaining to his Grandson that within each of us is a constant battle between two wolves. One representing negative emotions like anger, greed, and envy. The other representing positive emotions like love, peace, and kindness. The elder explains that we ourselves must decide which one of these wolves we’re going to feed. Do we go down the road of negative, or do we choose peace? Who would you feed?
I have this very tattoo on my leg with the two wolves, and above it says, “The one I feed.” I truly understand this and it’s a struggle within myself to walk the straight and narrow. To choose to feed the wolf of kindness may sound like a given choice, or easy to do, it’s not. When faced with different events through life, I’ve felt more secure and able to survive feeding the wolf of anger and greed. It’s comfortable to do so and served me in times of despair. When you feel that this wolf is strong and can protect you, you become kind of trapped. That if you don’t feed it, your power will fall away and you’ll be left vulnerable. In times of hopelessness, I struggle even more to lean towards the light. While I want to, and even need to, it’s a struggle. The other wolf is very strong and offers so much.
When I’d first learned about this story from my counselor, it was like a light went on. Yes! I so understand this! In my world, while the name Zombie came about in a cute and simple way, it’s as though it took on a persona of its own within me. It was easier to step aside and allow Zombie to take control of things. To do anything without feeling, to walk with a sense of power and control, it felt right. Robert is the more compassionate side, the wolf of positive emotions, love, peace and kindness. While this too can serve me well, my “training” looks at these things as weakness. You could even take a moment and think of a devil and an angel sitting on your shoulders trying to advise you of how to move forward. It’s much the same.
Events in the world, or even locally can trigger the struggle to rage. I feel that I’m progressing and starting to walk in the light, then something happens and I fall again. Perhaps tripped by Zombie. He wants to take over control and make things “easier.” Handle business without fear, without hesitation, without feelings. If you feel nothing, you can’t be hurt. That’s what I’m dealing with. No one wants to suffer in any fashion. The idea of being harmed physically is not something that most would want to bring upon themselves, nor would they want to hurt mentally. Yet, here we are.
There is so much wrong in the world today. There is so much celebration of pain and deceit. I wrestle with “how did we get here” all of the time. I feel as though we’ve failed as a society. We don’t want to praise the superhero anymore. We don’t want to wait for Superman or shine the Bat light for Batman to arrive. We’d rather enjoy the Joker burning the world down for the sake of watching it burn…nothing more. I know that if someone like me that’s walked on the darker side of life feels this, others must feel it as well. I also think that some just feel that life is just too hard. Why not let the darker wolf, or Zombie run freely and unchecked? Let me tell you that you don’t want that. You need to do the hard work, do the uncomfortable things. Being complicit in horrific events can’t become the norm. There must be a stopping point, or a moment of clarity.
Again, I share these things because I know that we’re all capable of doing, or being bad. We’re wired for it. Like it or not, there’s a killer in all of us. We’re just lucky that there’s also a switch of sorts that reminds us of what is right. Zombie is still lurking and waiting, like alcohol to an alcoholic, it’s ever patient. Zombie knows when I’m at my most vulnerable and is ready to “help.” The darker wolf wants to be fed, needs to be fed. Which wolf will I feed?
I seek answers among all humans. I seek kindness, hope, and love to remain Robert. I seek the food that the lighter wolf needs to remain whole. I lean towards those that have offered me food in the past. Those that believe in the lighter side, that believe in Robert. The humans that feel that Zombie should be part of my past, and never set free to roam again. I fear that if Zombie steps in, I could be lost. There’s sadness in that and right now I’m still fighting to stay whole. I’m still going to my counselor seeking food for the lighter wolf…so there’s still hope. While I’m struggling now, I’ll keep fighting. I have those that rely on me to be Robert, to remain hopeful and feed the lighter wolf of peace, love and kindness.
If you’re now wondering who wins in the story of the two wolves fighting. the answer the elder Cherokee replied with was “The one you feed.”
Thank you as always for taking the time to read my writings.
One day at a time. It doesn’t sound like much to say that, but when you really stop and put that into action, it can be profound. I’ve found myself at the mercy of even going an hour at a time to try to get through events in my life. Asking my higher power to take the load off of my shoulders because I felt as though it might be too much. I could break at any moment.
There have been some moments in my life when I had to sit and really think things through before acting upon them. I’m structured and methodical, so I know what the “knee jerk” reactions can bring. I’ve had those moments where I’ve let the reaction take hold and it’s never ended the way it should’ve. When raising children I learned patience quickly. They rely on their everything through you. You become a god of sorts in the eyes of that child. You are their most influential person during their earliest years. First words, learning to go to the potty, riding a bike for the first time. These are all moments that a parent should hold dear and cherish. We are also a big part in their makeup socially, at least at first. Once the outside is introduced we can feel lost at times. A new behavior discovered that was never taught by you. Words spoken that have never been part of your vocabulary. If you pay attention, there are signs that growing and changing is going on.
My story is one of going into a marriage that came with children. I didn’t shy away from taking the role of “Dad”, but rather embraced all that it had to offer. My son was already at a pivotal age and I feared that reaching him would be hard. My daughter was just getting ready to turn two and I knew that would be a serious task as well. Diapers, bottles, binkies and the ever present blanky were regular items to be had. I was all in and felt positive about my role as a parent. I had life experience that I felt would assist me in guiding these two souls through a world which I felt to be tough and ugly.
Dealing with other humans in situations like this became tricky. My son’s father was an every other weekend dad. He did his part at times, but assisting in the growth and maturity of a child was sparse. My son, Josh reads my blogs, so I’m sure he remembers much of the back and forth between homes and how he felt with each trip. Having a man come into his life that he knew nothing about, and trying to find a way to bond, or trust had to be awful. Especially knowing that he’d been down that road before and with an individual who was less than human in my humble opinion. Damage from that time is still discussed at times. The person who brought about this trauma was none other than the father (cough, cough) of my second child Taylor. When I first got together with their mother, we had discussions about child support and what roles these other humans would play in the raising of the children. As I stated earlier, Josh’s father was around at times, so there was some interaction for him. Taylor’s father had taken to getting into the wind to avoid child support and threatened her mother that if she ever tried to find him, “bad things” would happen. Hmmm, this went right into my sweet spot. Someone who was supposedly well connected and non existent. I decided to call in a favor and see how hard it would be to find this person. As luck would have it, I was able to find him quickly. I had his address and all pertinent information in my hands within a week. The next step would be to contact child support and report it so that he could be arrested. He was arrested and given a court date. Let me tell you, this is where things get sick. I walked into the courthouse to find this pathetic human sitting on a bench. I shared my feelings towards him in a quiet manner, but made it clear that he was very easy to find.
Once inside the court, a discussion began about the child support owed. He was an enormous amount of money in arrears and was looking for a way out. We offered to cut the amount of the child support in half, with the stipulation that he’d sign all of his parental rights away. Not only did he agree to this quickly, but followed it by saying that “I don’t ever want to see her, and she’s better off with you.” Stop right there. He just agreed to sell his child to a stranger and never wanted to look in on her going forward. Not only was I sickened by this act, I agreed to the offer and then adopted Taylor as my own child. Any chance that she had of making it through this world, it was certainly better with me than him.
Life has a way of shifting. The life I’d envisioned was broken by an alcoholic and drug abuser. Some of these red flags showed early on, but I didn’t think at that time that it was a problem. Getting drunk was something I’d seen other people do on the regular since very early on in my life. That was nothing new. This, however was much uglier and more dangerous. Traveling with kids in the car after drinking, coming home unannounced in a drunken rage, or even getting so drunk that she passed out in our garage with her car still running…and the doors were closed. It was time to rethink this parenting and my life with an alcoholic.
Separation was simple with my ex. I’d be done with the baggage that she carried and could spend more time helping the already damaged children. Being a single father was tough. Day care costs were high and getting them wherever they needed to be was worked around my working schedule to the best of my abilities. They did spend time with their mother, but the vast majority of the time was in my home, with me. Cracks were starting to show, in both of the kids. Each seemed to develop their own ways of working through it and neither seemed very healthy. Anger and uncertainty were apparent in both of them. While I tried to make sure they both understood that regardless of the split home situation, I’d always be available to them, and that nothing that happened between their mother and I was their fault.
Josh’s rebellion was more of a keep to yourself thing around the home. It was rage when away with his friends. So many years of being through so much, it’s a wonder he didn’t just explode. This too is something that we discuss to this very day. I offer my attention whenever he wants and I’m always planting the seed of counseling. He’s not there yet, but I think with time, he’ll find his way to it. I certainly took a minute to get in to see a professional myself. Taylor was different. She seemed to miss her mother at every turn. It didn’t seem to matter how much love and attention she was getting, there was always the need for more. This became a very unhealthy thing that turned into much more over the years. I started her in counseling, hoping that something would break through and she’d find some happiness. Again, I know there are many parents who read this… Remember that we can’t control what happens when a child is outside of our doors. The environment that I have control over is inside of my home and I also found that it can slip away. Taylor got into cutting. If there was ever a nightmare scenario for a parent, this rates pretty high on the scale and knowing that a child is cutting their skin open, inside of your home is terrifying! Add to that, less than savory connections on the outside, which then turned into drugs. I was left reeling.
The people closest to me know how many years I tried to reach my daughter. At some point you have to ask yourself what more can I do? By the time she reached adulthood, she’d aligned herself with a pill seeker and female abuser. I had nothing left to give. I’d offered numerous ways out of this and never wanted her to be homeless. She’d finally broken free from him but had all kinds of bad habits and refused to follow any kind of structure within my home. She’d tried living with her mother for a bit, but found one day to be evicted from there. Her mother was kind enough to place all of her things in front of my garage door while I was at work. The spiral down hit bottom for Taylor when she found herself living in her car and flopping at different “friends” homes. She reached out to me and asked if she could come home just for the night so that she could have a good shower, some food and rest. I allowed this with no questions asked. I could feel that she was at her bottom, or so I thought.
We talked the next day and I offered her the life that she’d had before, yet she refused. She still seemed to be fighting some kind of demons that I could not help her with. The choices that we make in our lives have consequences. While someone may be of legal age, they’re not always adult enough to understand these words. Letting your child walk out the door knowing that you can’t help them, fix them or protect them is one of the most gut wrenching moments of my life. I knew in my heart that I’d given everything to make this work. I’d protected, loved and raised these kids to be strong, independent and caring. I learned in counseling that the question I kept asking was already easy to answer. My question was, “what did I do wrong?” In all reality, I’d done nothing wrong, in fact I’d gone the extra mile to try to save them. With Taylor, there was nothing more. The breaking point came years later after a couple of very rare meet ups. She’d posted herself on social media holding a picture of the man who sold her in court. The very man that said he never wanted to see her again was now being displayed by my daughter with the words how she wished she could have known him and forged a relationship. She wanted a father that would have been there to guide her. It was like having my throat cut. Things came at me at a hundred miles an hour. I’d done everything in my power for this child. Everything that I’d sacrificed to make her life better, and in the end, I became nothing but an afterthought. Her parting words to me when she aged out of being on my insurance at 26 years old were, “thanks for letting me know, now lose my number.” That’s exactly what I did.
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Things don’t always go as they should, or at least how we want them to. I’ll always hope that she finds her way and decides that things could’ve been, and still could be, different. The change in me is what is key here. After everything that I’d been through, I was finally at peace with my decisions. I’d found a way to make myself whole. I stopped asking the question of what had I done wrong, and focused more on knowing that I did everything I could. She chose to go the other direction. When you take things one day at a time, it cuts it down into something more manageable. When you have serious life pressures, they can become overwhelming. I know this because I’ve been there many times. I’ve never been one to count on the world to do, or be the right thing. I know better. I’m street tough and smart, I know where the roads lead to now. How I travel them is the question. Do I allow things to build up and eventually break me? No, I have to separate the truth from the noise.
My stories are meant to teach, and at times inspire. Some are just here so that others know that life can be tricky and we have to find a way to get through it. I’m a survivor of many things now, so I speak truth to power. I’ve been judged many times for the moves that I’ve made with my child, and I will tell you that I really don’t care what others think. If you have empathy in your heart, then you understand. Until you walk a mile in anyone’s shoes, just don’t. Don’t cast your judgment without knowing everything. I implore you. While I’m battle tested, others may not be, and you can damage them further.
For those struggling with anything like this, there’s always hope and help. Seek counseling with a trained professional, it can make all the difference. Exhaust all options before deciding you’ve had enough when it comes to the life of another. I never walked away from my children, one just chose to walk away from me, and I’m alright today.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here. I had this tattooed on my leg a few years back with a very dark fallen angel. Its how I felt at the time and actually for a good portion of my life. I’ve seen the worst in humans and continue to wonder if/when they’ll ever shake out of it. Unfortunately, I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I think I’ve seen all that I need to see during this election cycle to understand that humans are not only flawed, but ugly. The devils are here on earth.
I’ll tell you all now that I’ve never been a fan of the two party political system in this country. It has brought about this perpetual cycle of “voting for the lesser of two evils.” The pendulum swings back and forth, all the while no one at the street level sees any kind of change in their world. That is what one of the candidates tapped into. The underfed, held down and angry found some kind of champion in him. All of the outsiders found a path to him as well. The darker among us feel at home when someone rages against “everyone else” because we know that someone has to be blamed for all the wrongs in the world. This is not new to American politics, it’s been going on for many generations. Anyone who has had to migrate to our shores has been pushed around at some point. The devils always find a way to manipulate you into believing that “they” are the reason for all of your problems. “They” are the reason you never get ahead. “They” steal your jobs, take your housing and go directly after your tax dollars. Hate is easy and the devils know it.
While I’ll never understand how someone can cheer for such anger and bitterness, I understand it. The problem here is that because I come from the shadows, I too know how to manipulate and set fires simply for the joy of watching them burn. I understand the desire for power and control, but I also know where that leads. Those that choose to follow such a path are destined for failure and unhappiness. Nothing will improve with what we’re doing here, it’ll only create further division among us. While you’re cheering on someone taking control of the country, and placing blame on groups of “they”, you’ll soon find that the promises of betterment were nothing more than an empty promise made by the devils. At this point, so much will have been stripped away, we won’t recognize this country, our government or those around us.
I was promised a better life when I joined the underworld. I was promised money, power, protections, but they all came at a cost. Don’t think that this is any different. The devils are good at offering things that appeal to your needs and desires, but then fall short on the delivery. As I asked in my last blog, “what are you willing to do to survive?” You’d better think long and hard on that one because you’re about to be tested on a much larger scale. I know what I’m willing to do, and I know what I’m capable of. I’ve been fighting against devils for the better part of my life. I want so much to be able to walk in the light and not ever have to worry. I’m finding myself at a crossroads again.
My first reaction to the election news was that it was time to wall up and go back to what I know, where I’m comfortable. Trust no one and be ready at a moment’s notice to step on your throat. Yeah, I’m there. Darkness has been calling to me in this 24 hour period and offering me the things that I seek. The devils that I know are speaking to me, and the message is clear. I’ve been here before, and hoped I’d never be here again.
Those that walk among us and feel that this is the way to a better life, hope and happiness, be ready. The promises will be hollow and your soul will be left with nothing. I’m sure that some may think, “you’re blowing this way out of proportion.” I’d like to hope that that’s case, but the devils have requirements and will be looking to feed their insatiable appetite. Promises have been made on how things will move forward. Promises to others who wish to feed from the table of deceit.
What are you willing to do to survive? Sit and ponder that. Think of where you’re at in your life and what you’d like to see going forward. Ask yourself the honest questions and take a long hard look in the mirror. What is it that you see in your reflection. Is it anger, hatred, bitterness? If so, the devils are here on earth and are ready to make you an offer that you can’t refuse. Just know that once you go down that path, it’s much harder to get back. If you’re feeling some of the things that I am, I see you, I feel your pain as well. We have to make a choice as well. Do we fall in line with the devils, or do we make our own way through this darkness? Either way it’ll be a struggle, and the struggle will come with a cost.
I’ve always been the kind to speak my mind and from my heart. This is no different. I will align myself with those that I hope will guide me through darkness so that I don’t falter. I need the guidance in some areas because I know how to move about in the darkness very well. As I stated, it’s comfortable to me. I want to be the champion of the story. I don’t want to be the fallen angel that lands on this earth with all of the devils. I’m hanging on today with everything that I am. I fear for the future and for the lives of the many that could be harmed in the future. I can only promise that I’m alright today.
Survival. What are you willing to do to survive? How far have you had to go to keep yourself above ground, and secure? There are different ways of looking at the word survivor. One of the first things that comes to mind for most of us is surviving breast cancer. Lord knows there’s been entirely too much of that in all of our lives. I’m sure that without even a glitch you can think of numerous people in, or around your life that have had to go through some kind of fight in order to stay alive. In this blog, I’d like to look at other aspects of surviving. None of them are easy and most come with a price. The question becomes, what are you willing to pay?
This subject has been on my mind for some time now. I’ve had to think it through to see just how I wanted to dissect the subject of survival. Survival–“The state or fact of continuing to live or exist, typically in spite of an accident, ordeal, or difficult circumstances.” We humans come equipped with a built in mechanism that makes us fighters. We’re capable of enduring all forms of pain and still finding a way to persevere. We learn much of this early, from falling as a toddler, skinning our knees as a tween, breaking a bone as a teenager, and of course there’s the feeling of heartbreak when dealing with another human in a relationship. While it’s vital to recuperate from any physical injuries, it’s also vital to recuperate from the unseen injuries. The mental anguish that can burden us. Sometimes, for the rest of our lives. There are times when the two, physical and mental come together and cause the most serious damage. While you can heal from some things physically, the steps required to recover mentally can be taxing, and at times seem like too much. This is where survival truly kicks in. What are you willing to do to survive?
I’ve shared several of my stories on this blog, and can tell you that I’ve faced the question that I’m asking now. When you’re a kid, you look to others to guide you and show you how to manage life’s lessons. In some cases, the lines can become blurred. Not all that surround you are looking out for your best interest. Predators seek those that they feel they can manipulate in silence. This can be in the form of “grooming”, or teaching a child to learn the art of deception. Teach them to become paranoid of all that is in the world, and that only that person, or group is the true savior in their life. There are some that would befriend you and use you for the purpose of making money. As a child, you just don’t know any better, because you’ve not been on this earth long enough to sort everything out. Judgment becomes skewed and mistakes are made.
Instincts are always in you to survive. Those that would use you are always willing to see that you have a “better” life. They make sure that bills get paid, money is provided on a regular basis and protection from those that could harm you is available. When you’re hungry, cold, tired, or homeless, all of this can seem like a blessing. It’s also providing you the basic needs to survive. What is the price for all of this? The answers come with uncertainty. At the time, the price may seem low, and worth the risks that come with it. It’s not until later that discovery of the true costs sets in. How far are you willing to go to survive?
Perhaps there’s something in your past that is triggered by all of this, and that’s truly understandable. We all have our demons. We’ve all been through some kind of “shit.” If I’ve learned anything in this world, it’s that almost everyone has been through some kind of traumatic experience that has put them at the doorstep of survival. They had to find something deep inside that would allow them to pay the toll, as it were, to keep moving on the highway of life. I had to trade a portion of my childhood, along with a portion of my mental strength to keep above ground. I was made to walk in the shadows, taught to feel nothing, and work to earn my place on the planet. I traded what I feel is a portion of my soul. I’m working hard now to gain it back, and looking back at what I provided, it was a heavy cost. I’m still here though.
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When you look in the mirror each day, what is it that you see? I’ll tell you something about myself, I struggle to look at mirrors…that’s a very true statement. I still see the same scared kid at times, along with a hardened older man. I still see the survivor though. I try more now to pay attention to the survivor and let the rest slide away. You’ve heard the statement, or perhaps said it yourself a time or two. “I did what I had to do.” On the positive side of this, I’ve learned to judge less and enjoy more. I know that I’m not the only one that suffers in silence. I know that my story is not unique in this world, and that there are others far worse than mine. That’s one of the things that I still think about on my walks through my old neighborhoods. What are these kids going through now? What are they doing to survive?
So, you’ve been reading all of this and probably running things through your mind. Were you lucky enough to have made it through your life thus far without having to trade something? Are you strong, independent and happy? If so, I’m envious of you and wish you continued happiness. For those that have paid a price, and are here reading this, you’re still here and I see you. Whatever price you paid, I’m grateful that you’re still here. Walk back those demons and keep working on yourself. I told you at the start of this that we came equipped as fighters, and fight we will. There is much still to see and do. There are people out there that for whatever reason have decided that we have worth, and they ask for nothing in return. Align yourself with those people, lean into them when you struggle. The cost of survival can be high, but I’m willing to fight for it. I’ve put in the work, and will continue to. If you ask me what am I willing to do to survive? The answer is, whatever it takes because I’m a survivor
Forgiveness- The action or process of forgiving or being forgiven. God’s forgiveness-washing us white as snow. (Isaiah 1:18) God’s promise not to count our sins against us…but requires repentance on our part.
I had a powerful session today and this word kept coming up, both out loud and inside of my head. Through the years, I’ve struggled to let things go. To allow others to possibly do harm to me, and render them forgiven. My view was more of the “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” In some cases, I sought to bring harm before the other person had a chance. “I will hurt you before you can hurt me.” When I read this now, it makes me sad. Sad that I spent so many years of my life in such turmoil. That I was not capable of turning the other cheek, or just walking away. Times, they are a changing.
We’ve all been there, and I’m sure on so many levels. Pain caused by others. Whether it’s from a close family member, your best friend, co-worker, or just a random person on the street. People have a way of being mean. This then forces us to wall up, put on the armor and take no prisoners. To become an impenetrable force. A wall of blackness. If I become the monster, no one can harm me. Where does it go from there? How do we ever take that armor off, and if we do, will we be harmed again?
I’ll take a few of my own examples and we’ll see how this goes. I’ve been married twice prior to finding Karla. Each of my prior marriages ended in some form of sadness, regret, and even anger. The sadness of feeling as though you’ve wasted years of your life with someone that had no business crossing your path, and the regret that you made a mistake and chose poorly. The anger part came about more so with my second marriage. Because both of these women had substance issues, alcohol being the prime issue. I found myself hating my wife at the time, alcohol and the damage it was causing to my family. It seemed as though I was trapped, with no escape in sight. The promises of staying sober, or clean were made and broken. The tears of pain that flowed because a thief was stealing my children’s smiles. The amount of rage and desire to seek revenge were building. Even after she had moved out, I loathed her very presence. I’d reached my breaking point, and decided to visit an Al-anon group.
The rooms (as they’re referred to) are a safe haven. Filled with others that walk in the same type situations that you might. They have loved ones, friends or co-workers that have brought them to this place. Not in a physical sense, but a spiritual. Each of us had reached our bottom and needed to find a way to live. My first few visits had me thinking that I might be in the wrong place. They spoke of things like “working your program”, studying books with quick references about how to move through the day based on what you were feeling. They also spoke of forgiveness. That was something that was not at all on my radar. I didn’t want to forgive her, I wanted to forget her, and perhaps serve up some karma that I felt was taking too long on its own to get to her. A member of this group approached me after one of the meetings. She stated that she’d listened to my story and thought perhaps she could give some advice. As time went on, she became my sponsor and many of the knowledge nuggets she gave to me, I share on here. She told me after a meeting this; “there will come a day when you’ll be grateful that you had this alcoholic in your life.” What was this madness? Grateful, for her? For all that she’d done? There was no fucking way!
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As time went on, I kept to studying my books, thinking things through and accepting that people are truly flawed. That some are predisposed to being alcoholics or drug addicts. That leaves the door open to believe that some of their actions are not necessarily by choice. (Stay with me, this is where it gets hard) I’ve always felt and still struggle with the idea that someone can be sober, know that if they have a drink or do a drug, things will go all the way off the rails. It makes you feel as though they get a pass for all their bad behavior, while you’re left holding the check! Yeah, it’s safe to say that I still struggle with that one, but I’ve remained open to the idea. I think about my father and the hell on earth that he, my uncle and my grandmother went through living with a seriously abusive alcoholic. It caused my father to never drink as an adult. He did still harbor the same demons that you see in an alcoholic, even being dry. My first wife just felt that it was the way of it. She kept it hidden at home, but as time went, became sloppier about it. She too had a mother that was never sober when we’d visit. I can’t think of a single time that she didn’t reek of alcohol, and what impression that had on everyone around her. To my wife at the time, it was just “normal.” That’s just the way “mom” is.
I could go on and on with many different relationships throughout my life where things didn’t go as planned. The question to all of this still remains, how do we find forgiveness? I’ll get into one more scenario. My past has haunted me for many years now. This was part of the discussion again today at my session with my counselor. I’ve had to take the mirror to myself on numerous occasions, and didn’t care for what I was seeing. This makes my counselor question why? What is it that makes you think you’re so bad, so not worthy. Not worthy of love, compassion, forgiveness. Each of the times that my counselor has asked me “when will Robert be forgiven?” It’s brought me to tears. The idea that someone like me still has value has been hard. I know that I’m a better man, and that I’ve done much to turn my life around. I see the fruits of my labor at every turn. Yet for some reason I still harbor this ill will towards myself. Perhaps from many of life’s events, I gave up on myself.
I will tell you all now that I’m making strides, truly. The world that I lived in as a child, and teen is no longer there. I’m turning the corner and just down the way is forgiveness. I can see it now and it’s like a beacon of light. I’m tired, and no longer want to hold onto the darkness that holds me back. I want to be alright with being me. There’s nothing that any one person can say to any of us when we feel lost, hurt, betrayed that’ll make everything alright. You just need to keep moving on. “Let go and let God.” That was another saying in the rooms. Even if you don’t believe in God, it was explained to me that you can just believe in a higher power. Whatever that higher power might be, turn everything over to it. I’ve had moments that I didn’t think I could keep going. I closed my eyes and said to myself that it was all too much, please take it away…and it was gone. Forgiveness stepped in and took the load. Be it forgiving that loved one that’s wronged you, or forgiving yourself for being that crazy mixed up kid that just didn’t seem to do all the right things. Allow yourself to be the hero of the story, and never look back. I will forgive myself, today.
I have to be honest. I really don’t know how to be anything else. When I’m out doing my walks, there are days that I’m out there to kind of unload the stress of the day, or workweek. I take the time to breathe and see the beauty of the world. There is so much out there that is wonderful. Yet, on certain trips around, it’s as though I’m tuned into a different channel. I feel dread, and see the ugliness. I’ll touch on these for a moment and let’s see where it goes.
Recently, I went out on my usual walks about the city. I started out pretty much the same on both of these adventures, so I had no predetermined agenda. I wasn’t in a bad mood, or particularly stressed, but found myself going in two very different directions. On the day I felt darkness, it seemed as though there was a strange haze around the city. The weather has been pretty good, yet it just didn’t look the same. I found myself paying attention to odd things, garbage, broken down cars, burnt out houses, drug induced humans, all those things. When I start seeing this, it makes me start to wonder, how did things get this way? Why doesn’t anyone else see this? Why doesn’t anyone seem to care, about anything? It frustrates me. This then turns into, why doesn’t anyone pick things up? What is wrong with this world? I see people wandering about without a care in the world, kicking trash, breaking windows, stealing things, it just becomes overwhelming. My mind will move to how they were raised, or the lack of guidance. What kind of home did they come from? Will they ever break their cycle? Seriously, this goes on mile after mile. I’m grateful that as the miles go, I eventually find at least a small amount of peace, even after everything I’ve experienced.
I’ve always tried to explain to my wife that I don’t “choose” to be negative, or see the bad, I’m just wired differently. I find that we have a good trade off at times. She sees things like through the eyes of a child, and that gives me hope. She speaks of the good in others when I see anger and despair. When I’m angry about something, she’s a master of showing me a different view, or allowing me to see her perspective. I’m grateful for that. If left to my own, I’d probably hide myself away. When we walk together, on most of our trips, I’m able to stay on her vibe. There are still those times when I’m seeing things, evaluating threats and being ever watchful. I don’t share all of this with her for a couple of reasons. I don’t want her to be scared or fearful. I also don’t want her to look at me as though there’s something wrong with me, or that I’m being paranoid. I fear being judged by my own wife, probably more than anyone on this planet.
Now, when I’m seeing all of the positive, I still process threats and safety, but I’m very open to the beauty of the world. There is so much to see in our small city. The tiniest of details can make me smile. I love the rebuilding of the river front area and all through downtown. There’s a feeling of hope in areas that have been plagued for years with blight and filth. There’s a new spirit in areas like the farmer’s market, or the new park on the East side! I’ve watched that turn from an abandoned field to one of the crown jewels in the area. Even walking up Main street on the East side. It’s starting to see newness and change happening. Being that I come from that side of the river, I’m hopeful that it will see better days in the future.
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If you’ve ever taken a long walk with me, you’d likely never know that I’m processing threats, or watching out. I’m not vocal about it. I can only tell you that I’ll chat and enjoy your company. Just know that I’ve evaluated everything around us, and I can say with clarity that you’re safe, and protected. As for the why this all happens, I really don’t know. I feel like my brain is directing me and I don’t have a say in it. I’ve touched on this before. I feel like I’m to be a witness to whatever it is that I’m seeing. That it’s required to be acknowledged by someone. If not me, then who?
I think this is why I do so much better with someone walking along with me. It tends to bring a calmness to the runaway train within me. I’ve had discussions with my counselor on numerous occasions about “always being on.” I’ve not figured out how to shut things down or stop doing my “threat assessments.” As you can probably imagine, it can be exhausting. There are days that I just wish I could hit a button and not be going full speed in my head. While I have my different channels, there’s still a lot going on. I prefer the softer side yet I know the other still exist.
I was having a conversation with a friend the other day and we touched on our pasts. Some of the things that we went through and experienced. I knew that this person had a bit of trauma in there, yet they didn’t seem to care about it anymore. Stated that they chose to just move forward. It was at that moment that I felt myself falling internally. Why was I still struggling then? How come I can’t just see things as in my past and move on? Why do I need to analyze things so much? Once those words came out, I didn’t speak about the subject any longer. I’d heard lines like that before and it just makes me feel lesser. I don’t want to be judged. I had to remember what I always tell my wife. It’s not a choice, if it was that easy, I’d choose happiness to rain down on me for the rest of my days! I’m working very hard to set things on one channel. To see things that are beautiful rather than ugly. To bask in the sunshine rather than the dark. I’m painfully aware that I’m damaged goods. I’ve made the choice to try to correct that, but I know that it’ll take time. My case is one of many out there, so I know that I’m not alone. “This too shall pass.”
I’ll continue to take my walks and enjoy the company of whomever decides to walk along. I’ll keep working on getting things right, or at least find some kind of peace with who and what I am. I know that I’m not alone and that there is beauty in this world. That’s a start. I know that there are those that love me, and that helps to keep me whole. I also know that there are many that find things that they need themselves in my writing. That centers me. I’m humbled when people tell me that they enjoy reading my blog entries. I’m already a much better version of myself than I was years ago, so I can be fixed. Please know that I don’t choose to be this way. The choice that I made years ago was to walk away from demons and attempt to live a better life. I always joke and say that I never thought I’d make it past 30 years old, and here we are. I turned 58 last month. You all stick around and I will as well. I’ll get this thing right and find what it is that I seek.
“Everyone could use a little counseling.” Words that I often share when having discussions with friends or co-workers. Might sound cliché but it’s true. Being human means that we’re flawed, and raised by others that were also flawed themselves. It’s a strange kind of merry-go-round that we can’t seem to ever get off. The best that we can hope for, is to get a better understanding of who we are and what has hurt us. Come along with me and we’ll take a look back.
The past life. This is a reference that I’ve used in many of my blogs. During my upbringing, I crossed paths with another human that took me under wing to show me how to have a “better life.” That was the way it was billed. A better life sounded great! I was a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, raised by parents that did their best at the time to provide a decent life. We unfortunately struggled with the necessities to get by. Keeping a place to stay was the main focus, and that was troublesome at points throughout my life. Food, heat, clothing were luxuries. When things were going good for my father with work, we ate pretty good. During those times, it’s almost like we couldn’t stop eating because we were worried that we’d be without again. Hiding snacks was a thing in the home. I’d keep small bags of food hidden away in my bedroom so that when the food was not as plentiful, I’d still have something. The heat and lights would get turned off on occasion because a bill didn’t get paid, but we found ways to get by. Let me point out that I’m not trying to put my parents down, they were just not well equipped to handle many of life’s struggles. Going back through this just gives you a better picture as to why I strayed into the Lion’s den.
The human that wanted to give me a better life was a friend of my fathers. My father knew nothing of the arrangement that I’d make with this man, and I’d hoped that he’d never find out. The idea of getting ahead and making some money sounded like an ideal situation. It started out slowly. I was being taught how to see the world. I refer to this at times as being “groomed.” I was paid to sit at one of his establishments and watch everything going on. He’d occasionally walk by me and ask a question about something going on in the bar. “Do you see that guy over there, what’s he wearing?” “What brand cigarettes is the girl at the bar smoking?” Small things that would turn into bigger things. He was all about being an expert voyeur. He would tell me all the time that it was good to be quiet. Quiet breeds strength and power. At the time it made little sense, but as I aged, it meant everything. The steps that followed would be much darker, and would involve harming others. I will say this. I learned quickly that drugs in our community are by far the darkest, ugliest vice. People will say, or do anything to reach whatever high they’re seeking. These eyes have seen much and I have no way to erase it.
Dipping my toe back into these stories always makes me nervous. I feel as though there’s always someone lurking, watching, studying me and my habits. It’s because of this time in my life that I became such a light sleeper. I’ve also struggled with insomnia for many years. That, accompanied with reoccurring nightmares that would always be the same. I knew the story line by heart. It was as if I was watching it on a television or from above while it was going on. The sound of a hissing female voice in my ear telling me that they were in my house and wanted to know where all of my “stuff” was at. It gives me goose bumps just talking about it now. It was as if Medusa herself was speaking to me. I’d usually wake myself up about this time and realize that I’d been having “my dream”, but always felt very unsettled. Enough so that I’d have to get up out of bed and check all of the doors and windows in the house. If I felt bad enough, I’d go outside and do a full perimeter check of the property. Yes, it was always that bad, or at least it felt that way to me. These are the kinds of things that stay with you. The damage that comes from years of paying attention to every detail. Being the professional voyeur.
There are so many stories yet to tell and I’m doing my best to get them all out before I expire! While there are things I’d like to share, I’m not at a level of comfort to just blurt all of it out yet. Many of these things happened in my home town. They happened while going to school, being a kid, trying to fit into groups of society. Trying to be normal and yet, keeping secrets that could never be shared with even my closest of friends or family members. Sharing secrets is crossing the line, and crossing the line means you don’t go home again. I see things as black and white, life or death. There is no other way to view it in my eyes. This is damage, this is trauma and I’m working on getting that squared away.
I share my blogs with family and friends pretty regularly. One person in particular gets what I’m saying. My cousin suffers from PTSD as well. He too is a work in progress and struggles at times. He has moments of clarity and then can be triggered and has to find his way back. One of the things we talked about recently was the fact that we both struggle in much the same way, but never knew it. Our family has all kinds of history, some of which I’ve discussed in my writing. We were kept apart for much of our lives growing up. As adults, it just seemed odd to even attempt to make a relationship with people you didn’t even know or were told incorrect things about. We’ve been working on our relationship now and going over our new found similarities. Another small tidbit with this, he comes from the law enforcement field. That’s where a good part of his trauma stems from. Oddly enough, mine comes from the underworld. Cop and Criminal united in a cause. We both speak openly now about PTSD and the stigma that follows mental health. It’s something that means much to both of us. I feel at ease being around him. While we both have our insecurities, we have the understanding of what it’s like to be broken, and broken badly.
So, could we all use a counselor in our lives? Absolutely! While I’ve been going back over my stories and clearing out my brain. I’ve found that I share so much more with so many. While there’s a sadness to that, it’s also a very good thing. I want to reach people that sit in the darkness and wonder where they’re going to turn to. The ones that have been questioning whether to make a phone call to a counselor or speak to a family member about how they’re feeling. There’s a level of brokenness in all of us. There’s no room for judgment in that. If someone speaks with me now, I don’t try to tell them that my trauma is worse than theirs. It’s not my place to evaluate someone else’s feelings. If you’re hurting, that’s what matters. My cousin and I can both tell you that there were so many times that we felt alone, alienated from the world. No one should have to go through that. Self isolation is the absolute worst thing you can ever do…period! You can have your moments of silent reflection, or mediation. Isolating yourself and everything you have all into one compartment is a very bad way to walk this earth.
I’m going to keep working on myself, and I’ll keep trying to write as much of my story as I can get out. There are spots that I’ll probably leave redacted for my own health and safety. I want all of you to think of your story. If you ever want to share with me, I’ll listen. No judgment ever. If you ever feel that you want your story told and would like me to add it onto this blog, I’d be honored to do so. I can leave everything very anonymous and just tell the story as the voyeur that I am. You never know, you just might catch someone’s attention and make a difference in their life.
I was telling a co-worker the other night that I try to write in such a way that I don’t harm anyone. I’ve harmed enough in my life. I’m trying to be a better version of myself moving forward. The idea now is to tell the stories, make myself feel better, and hopefully reach others so that they too can find light in all the darkness. We’re all Beautifully Broken creatures after all.
As always, thank you for reading and following my work.
Being that we’re in the month of October, and everyone is prepping for their scary season. I thought I’d ask, what scares you? I mean what is so unsettling to you that it feels as though it grabs your soul? I have phobias for sure. I’m unsettled by tight spaces, heights, and even basements. (Thanks to my sisters) When we lived in our house on Nevada, it had a pretty good sized basement. A set of stairs that went down and stopped midway where there was a small landing and a side door to the home. The stairs then continued on into the basement. There was a main room, and then split off from that were a couple more rooms. One had the washer and dryer, there was a shower room in the corner of that and then there was another smaller room that was off of that. Of course the usual furnace, water heater and such were down there. To most, it would appear to be pretty normal stuff. The space under the stairs was always creepy to me and I didn’t care for it. My sisters knew about this, and one day decided to run up the stairs together and lock the basement door. From there they began telling me all of the creatures that were underneath the stairs that were going to come out and get me. Once I was finally let out, I screamed all the way to the living room where I attempted to get under the sofa. I was absolutely petrified. Needless to say, nightmares ensued. I’ve never been a fan of a basement to this very day! I’m in my 50’s now and still look over my shoulder when walking up the basement stairs. In the back of my mind, the kid from so many years ago is still in there and he’s still terrified. It never goes away.
When it comes to people, there are literally a handful that have scared me in my life. A couple of the darkest moments will probably soon be revealed in counseling. The last session really dug into something. Amy said that it’s the first time that I showed fear. I felt it when we were talking. It took me to a place that made me want to scream like that kid running from the basement. I wanted to dig my way underneath a sofa in the worst way and never be found. The very idea of facing your fears can be trauma in itself. Staring at something that you really don’t want to. I’ll ask you to think about that for a second. Is there an event in your life that makes you feel this way? Something that makes you feel like a kid that wants to hide underneath something in order to make the feelings stop? Hold onto that for a moment.
I’ve found while doing these blogs that there are others that have fears, and have lived through events that haunt them to this day. While I tell the story about the basement, it’s just to give you perspective. Everyone has been scared by something like that as a child. While I still have my feelings about basements, I walk up and down in mine all of the time. My biggest fear in my life is facing my own thoughts. Yep, it’s true. That’s where all of the blackest things reside. Events that I thought I put to bed years ago, loss of persons in my life, hunger, struggle, all of it’s there. Let’s go back to the words of my sponsor, “stay out of your head, it’s a bad neighborhood.” Yes, it’s a bad neighborhood. The question is, do I want to leave it as such, or do I want to try to turn it around?
Here’s a free piece of advice for anyone that suffers from darkness. It doesn’t go away on it’s own. You can’t bury it, you can’t will it away, it needs to come out from whatever basement that you’ve left it in. Once you dig it out, face it head on. Will it be scary, hell yes! I know that the next time I go to see Amy we’ll be doing just that. The reason why I will follow through with this is because I want to feel better, I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to have the darkness reside in my head and fester. If left unchecked, it only manifest into much uglier things. This I promise you.
You may have noticed on my last blog entry that I used my given name “Robert”. This is something that was also discussed with Amy. You see, Zombie it’s been decided is the darker side of Robert. While I’ve held onto the title and used it many times, and even in a fun way. It’s almost like it’s an alter ego. Zombie is who holds the secrets. The fears, the things that scare me. The eyes of Zombie have seen much and we believe that it’s time for me to step away from that. I won’t be changing my blog name, as it’s still fitting for what I do and what I write about. The Zombie File is the files of the many things that have been witnessed, both good and bad. I’ll continue to step back into those times, gently, because there are still stories that need to be told. With each blog entry I feel relief. So, I’ll just keep doing this until there’s nothing left to say.
Tonight, while I’m asking you to visit the darkness, I’m also letting you know that there’s hope. (I know Amy, here’s the sprinkles–inside joke). Ask yourself what scares you and think about visiting those spaces. I don’t want you to do it alone, but I’d ask that you work towards that. If we clear out the ugliness, then perhaps we can enjoy the darkness the way it should be. “Without darkness you can’t see stars”.
I’ll be taking my steps in a little over a week, and facing what broke me. What made tears come to my eyes, tightness to my throat, shaking of my hands. That’s the level of scared that I feel. I know that with the help of Amy, I will no longer want to run and hide under that sofa. I won’t have to be scared anymore.
I totally understand why anyone that struggles with any kind of mental illness doesn’t want to talk about it. Why they don’t want “others” to know. Once you do, once the genie is out of the bottle, you can’t put it back in. That leaves you vulnerable to judgment by those that don’t understand, or just don’t care to understand. It’s taken years to get to the point that I’m at now, but don’t think that because I blog about my issues that it makes everything o.k.
Some might think that what I write about is brave, or that it gives them a better perspective on the rest of the world outside of their own. There are some that think the topics I touch on are too taboo. They feel that what I speak about is “too much”. That perhaps I’d be better served keeping this to myself, or dialing it down. The very reason I started touching on the topic of mental health is because it does reach everyone. There are just some that refuse to believe that they might struggle themselves. That perhaps they have their own secrets.
Since I’ve started this direction of writing. I’ve had some very positive responses, and have found it’s opened a door for others to explore their own world. That is thrilling to me! I love that perhaps the pain I’ve carried can somehow be of service in the long run. Then there’s the uneasy feeling that when I’ve written something that I’m looked upon differently. A certain sympathy look, or perhaps a look of being dismissed because they know that “you’re not well”. I feel it, trust me.
One of the things that is the most bothersome to me, is when my word is questioned. Growing up with nothing made me painfully aware that the only thing that I do have is my voice. Along with my voice is my memory and the ability to recall anything. As I’ve stated before, I’ve been “trained” to pay attention to details. Why? Because details matter. This is something that I’ve lived by for the better part of my life. Recently I went through an event that challenged all of this. I felt for a minute like I was truly going crazy, that everything I knew to be right, was now wrong.
“How important is it to be right.” This question was posed to me years ago by my sponsor. My answer at that time was, it’s everything. While I may not always voice my opposition, in my brain I know what’s right. I may not challenge the person, or persons at the time, but I’ve already begun my process into evaluating the situation. I also begin to evaluate the person, or persons that are involved. This again, is something that I’ve done for so long, that it’s second nature. In different circumstances, with less savory people, evaluating improperly can cost you everything.
This all then brings trust into question. My evaluation process lets me know what level I can trust a person. If some are willing to blindly follow and never question, I look at them as a “mark”. I align myself with those that have proven to be strong, question things and seek truth. There’s an intersection between the speaking about mental health and truth. I pass through this intersection on a daily basis. I work in an environment that is painful to who and what I am. I feel alone and singled out at times. I’ve been working on making peace with that, but it’s truly a struggle. When you use your voice and know your truth, and it falls on deaf ears, or is discarded, you’re left to question your place in the world. I’m not one for folding up and walking away, so it usually brings about hostility. My anger and hostility is, and will continue to be my main focus with my counselor. I don’t want to feel this way, yet find myself falling into this comfort trap.
Here’s what I’m looking for with this blog. I want everyone to understand that I may be broken, yes, I have damage that needs care. It doesn’t make me less than. It doesn’t mean that I can’t function within society. I don’t want pity. All that I want is what everyone should want, to be heard, to be seen. The other thing is that there are those of us out there that have experienced trauma that perhaps has made us keenly aware of things that others wouldn’t bother to pay attention to. We see the things that others don’t. I was trying to explain this to a co-worker recently. I stated that it’s a curse, and a blessing at the same time. I wish that I’d never gone through the things that I did, but I can’t change that. I can however take the strengths that it has given me and use them appropriately. The positive that came from the negative. I also want to be clear that I’m not perfect, but a truth seeker.
When you’re around me, when you’re speaking with me, know that I’m very genuine. I speak truth, always. The only thing that I have to offer in this world is my voice. The question is, are you willing to hear my voice?
I’ve been in need of purging numerous things from my system. One that I truly feel doesn’t get enough attention, and really needs to is the male psyche. I’ll speak of my own personal experience with this, both of myself, and others around me over the years. The manner in which males have been raised, and many continue to be raised is failing our society. Yes, failing our society. Follow along and I’ll explain some of the deep secrets.
I’ve talked about my childhood, and the relationship that I had with my Father. I’ve also given a glimpse into life that my Father endured. I use the word endured because it’s fitting. He was raised by an “Alpha” male that was an alcoholic. He viewed the world through an angry lens, and took his own frustrations out on those around him. His wife, my Grandmother was the first target. Once children came into the picture, they also suffered his wrath. My Uncle was shown no love or affection by this man. He was so hardened towards his kids that when my Uncle joined the Army and was ready to leave for boot-camp, my Grandfather gave him a ride to the bus station, and proceeded to unload and leave him there. Not well wishes of “please be safe”, or I love you son, no tears, he was dropped off and left with not even a glance in the review mirror. That was the level of anger that this man carried.
Alcohol and rage stayed within the confines of their home. My Grandfather was not a social drinker, he kept everything under wraps. An unspoken dirty secret. One that I’m sure was going on in so many other homes as well. Beatings were a regular thing, and order was to be kept. My Father learned to hide his emotions and maintain order as did my Uncle. My Grandmother did what she could to protect the boys, but had little hope of fending off the attacks. My Father spoke to me about these things at different times throughout my life. You could feel the contempt that he had for his Father. The anger and lack of emotion had carried over into my Father. While he kept from drinking, he had many of the same traits that my Grandfather before him had. He was triggered easily and rage would ensue. There was a touch of softness there thankfully. He had made an agreement with my Mother to keep hands off of myself and my sisters. The more violent beatings that he’d encountered were not a regular thing in our home. I can say that a couple of times he became very unhinged and did some damage to me. As I’ve wrote about in other blogs, I’ve forgiven my Father for things that I, and my sisters went through. He did what he could with what he had. He too was broken and never shown how to behave with empathy, sympathy or feelings in general.
These characteristics of course fell into me. The son that would be “trained” to behave in a certain manner. My job was to never show feelings, feelings equal weakness. Weakness is not acceptable in the male dominated world. You must show that you are the “Alpha” or you’ll be eaten alive. When carrying on in what I refer to as my “past life”. The training continued and became more of a grooming by another strong and angry male. This man ran multiple “businesses” that ran below the law. I found myself in a world of darkness with nothing to grasp onto. This was a pivotal age in my life and the only thing that I understood was that feelings of love and caring are to be discarded, or stuffed away. The proper response to others was to stand tall, be silent, watch and study. Find and exploit weaknesses.
It’s safe to say that there were so many males that I encountered that were broken as well. I became such a good study that I found it easy to spot those that were hiding true feelings. Those that didn’t want to be the “Alpha”, but were doing what they could to survive. I can truly say that even in the hardest of males, there was only a small few that I was truly scared of. You can see death in a person’s eyes if you look close enough. You’ll know when they’ve seen the things that no one should ever see, or in many cases, do things that should never be done. These are the true, and darkest fallen angels. There were times in discussions with some that I found such sadness, it made me wonder what had happened to them in their life to make them this way. They were very closed off and shared very little with me. Enough that I knew, there was true darkness on the other side. The man that groomed me was one of those men.
If you’re wondering about now where this is going and what does it have to do with the male psyche. We as a society raise males to be this way, sometimes without even realizing it. How many times have you heard things like “get up, you’re fine”, “don’t cry or I’ll give you something to cry about”, “wipe those tears away, no one needs to see that”. These are some of the things that were in my early life. With each comment, tight grip and hissing of words in your face, you become more damaged. While you may be compliant, you still harbor feelings. I didn’t realize that I was allowed to be sensitive, caring, empathetic until much later in life. This is something that should be taught from the moment any child comes into this world. Building a soldier with a protective exterior does not make a man. It creates a broken soul. This needs to stop.
I see so many around now that feel the need to put on the show of what they feel is expected of them in society. We have a disconnect somewhere. I’ve also witnessed people looking at some males with disgust because they don’t want to partake in these alpha type rituals. Say perhaps you have a son that has no interest in any kind of sports. Does that make him less of a person? What if he gets picked on or bullied and doesn’t want to fight back? What then? What is it that we feel makes up a man? Do they need to grow as much facial hair as possible and drive the biggest 4-wheel drive truck? Do they have to lift the heaviest weights at the gym? These are some of the small things that go on. Why can’t it just be o.k. to just be? Whatever it is that a boy, young man, or man feels they want to do, or be should be alright, yes? We need to allow men to show feelings, to be confident in themselves regardless of what others might think.
I say all this because I want to see changes in our future. I don’t want to see more damaged people growing up angry. This anger only carries over into their families, whether it’s their girlfriends, wives, kids etc. It’s a cycle that needs to be broken. It’s taken me many years to be alright with actually crying. That is so seriously fucked up that I’ve felt that way for so long. Tears can fall from any human’s eyes, and it should be alright. If we don’t stop this madness, more will suffer.
If you know someone that suffers, that feels that no one understands, talk to them, get them some help. Let them know that it’s alright to show the softer side of a male. In fact doing so could change a relationship entirely. I grew up with all sisters, worked most of my life around women, and I can tell you that they’d prefer to spend time with someone that is confident in who they are, not how manly they act. A man that can show love, sadness, and be vulnerable.
I’m here, sharing all of this in order to find a path to those that have felt the same as myself. To reach loved ones that know a man in their life that needs to find their way. I show my pain in my writing so that others can learn from it. I don’t want anyone to ever feel as I have. To be misguided by the “Alphas”. It’s the wrong path. Truth, forgiveness and vulnerability are now part of my make up. I’m slowly changing what I was, to who I am. I’m still learning to be alright with myself and I think that if I can help others, it could maybe, just maybe help me in return.
The zombie file 