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.
Let’s have a chat about people in our lives that we have no control over. Yes, that’s pretty much everyone. As parents we feel that our duties are never ending, and in many cases that’s a true statement. Where do we draw the line on things? When does it need to be removed from our plate? I’ll share more of my own life and struggles and let you all decide from there.
I was in a previous marriage that came with two children. I have no biological children of my own, but I felt that I had good wisdom and life experiences that I could pass onto kids. The sharing of a bloodline really meant nothing to me, they’re kids and kids need love and attention. That was something I was willing to do.
I hit the ground running with one closing in on tween years and the other still very much in diapers. I learned quickly that my life was no longer my own and I’d have to make adjustments in all areas in order to be the best father possible. I found it challenging, but rewarding at the same time. Kids after awhile start to act, or sound like you. Mimic your facial expressions, or say silly sayings that you probably repeated while working around the house. Perhaps even singing the songs that were popular in your home. Music was a regular thing in my house, and still is to this day. So, I’m not surprised that my Son is still a music and movie enthusiast. We shared lots of times watching shows, or movies together, and having discussions about them. We didn’t always agree on whether or not it was a good movie, but it was the time spent that mattered. Music was much the same. Different kinds of heavy metal are still something that he holds onto. He plays guitar, and very well. He does this in his free time and continues to teach himself by listening to songs.
My daughter was very much a girly girl. She liked her pink and purple colors. Found amusement in programs such as Dora the explorer (Swiper no swiping) If you watched the cartoon, you understand…lol! Rugrats were a big hit and Barney. Dear Lord that program made me half crazy! Anyway, she enjoyed listening to music as well. Sang all of the time, talked and sang to her “posse” of stuffed animals. It was all good stuff. I was a very hands on Dad and wanted good things for both of these kids. Worked hard to provide them with a good home, food to eat, safety and security. All things that I desired for myself as a child. If they did something wrong, I wanted to explain what it was they did wrong and why I was not happy. I didn’t believe in screaming at them. I know that I hate when someone yells at me I tend to wall up and hear absolutely nothing. If I was going to get through to them, I had to take a different approach.
With age brought all of the usual issues. Nothing earth shattering, kids stuff. Sneaking food late night, playing games in their bedroom until all hours, you know, things we’d do ourselves. The turn of events came when I parted ways with their Mother. There was a lot of not understanding why things were changing and why their parents would be living in separate homes. I was concerned that they’d take ownership of the problem and blame themselves. I had long conversations with them before the split and it continued afterwards. I never spoke poorly about their mother in front of them as I felt it would just cause more damage. She was still mom, even with the feelings that I harbored towards her. It was not their fault.
As luck would have it, the kids spent a good portion of their time with me in my home. That felt right and I enjoyed having them there. I’d grown accustom to them being in my life and wanted to continue to guide them through their lives. I was very protective of them, and when they were away, I worried about what might happen to them. I didn’t feel that the environment they were being exposed to was proper or healthy. It ate at me on a daily basis, but I had to remember something I was told. “You cannot control what happens outside of your home.” A wise woman told me that once, and I’ve held onto it. Another knowledge nugget is this, the three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Use them in a sentence such as I didn’t cause this problem. I can’t cure this problem. I can’t control this problem. Powerful when you sit back and take that in. I had no control of anything outside of my door. I’d learn that that comes even closer, and will include inside my own home.
My son and I reached a point where I felt he needed to find direction. To decide what he needed to do with himself. By this time I had remarried and he was living in our home, working part time jobs and playing video games…lol! I felt that he isolated too much and should share time, space and energy with the group more often. I also am a big believer that if you live under the roof provided, you partake in work around the house. Do things without having to be told. Small stuff, but important, at least in my eyes. We had a parting of ways once he was over 18 and I asked that if he didn’t want to follow my rules, that he find somewhere else to stay. Was that harsh? Some might think so, but again, the person that I am and what I’ve gone through, I felt it was necessary. If there’s always a safety net waiting for a child, they’ll never step up and learn on their own. You’ll just become a codependent and they’ll learn nothing. I will tell you that after some time apart, my son is part of my life again. We speak about life more now as adults and work through whatever is going on in either of our worlds. He’s taken that leap, and stands on his own two feet now. Was it hard for me to do this? Absolutely! Don’t think for a minute that it didn’t hurt inside, but if I’d left him to just keep going along as he was, I don’t think he would be the man he is today. He works hard, pays his rent, loves his dogs, plays his guitar and listens to his music. He’s capable of living on his own. I could not be more proud.
My daughter had a harder time. She was constantly seeking the attention and approval of her mother. Something that would never come. It was heartbreaking to see her chase after smoke in the air, but I had no words that would make her feel better. As a teen she became more destructive, both to herself and others. Poor life choices started to stack up. We talked about all of this and decided to get her to a counselor to try to work through all of her feelings. It felt like progress was being made, but the demons were always there for her. The ever patient, harmful demons called to her and made her into someone that I wouldn’t know. The cute little girl that I’d shared so much with reached a point that I had to take a step back.
The counselor that I’d been taking her to recognized so many things in me. That’s where the bridge began. I picked up going to the very counselor that I’d been taking my daughter to in order to figure life out. It started with all of the guilt I was feeling about the kids. How could this have happened? What had I done wrong? How could I fix it? I had to learn then that the actions of others was something that was beyond my control. My children were not off limits to this rule. They were actually the ones that I needed to hold these rules in place for the most. They were the closest to me, dear to my heart and I loved them both! The three C’s come back into play here. (Cause, Cure & Control) The demons that my daughter has were not something that I caused. I did my best and offered numerous years of counseling, love and support, so I couldn’t Cure her. Her life choices are her life choices, so I have no control over them. By the time they reach adulthood, those choice can have severe consequences.
There are many that didn’t understand how I could “just walk away”, or “how can you do that to your child?” From the outside looking in, it’s easy to make calls like that, cast judgment on someone for being so “heartless.” My heart is full and has been for these kids from the minute they came into my life. There are some that would have you believe that because you don’t share bloodline, you don’t really understand what it feels like to be a parent. Yes, people have said that, out loud to me. Biological mothers and fathers all over the planet can be some of the worst humans around, so I’d say that I’ve done a pretty damn good job as a “Step-Parent”.
Life is messy sometimes, we all know this. If you follow this blog, you know first hand just how messy my life has been, and how I’ve managed to hold on all these years. Not everything works out the way I’d like it to, and that is the case with my daughter to this day. We’ve parted ways and don’t speak at all. I did everything in my power to help, or assist her in her life. Each time I was met with resistance, and just lack of common decency. The line has to be drawn in the sand. She was told that if she wanted me to be a part of her life, it would have to be on my terms this time. Think about that. It’s powerful. I took my power back and still let her know that I was willing to be in her life. Manipulation is a tool, and a weapon. I see it wheeled all too often in relationships around me. What is it in a person that makes them think, or feel that you yourself owes them something? In this particular case, I did what I was to do. I raised children with everything I had. All the tools that had been passed on, or learned. I supported any adventures they wanted to pursue, but made clear that their choices, their burdens were not mine to carry. There are some things in life that are just too heavy, and that’s one of them.
If you have someone in your life that challenges your dedication to them. Perhaps questions your decisions you make about your relationship with them. Stop and use those three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Ask yourself how that fits into the situation. I believe in stepping back when someone feels that I’m not giving enough. Relationships, all of them require work from everyone involved. There has to be effort made by all parties in order to find common ground. If one party is unwilling or challenges this, perhaps it’s time to step away. You have permission to do so. Sometimes the focus has to be on yourself. In the end, focusing on yourself will help you to see things in a much clearer way. The weight caused by guilt will be lifted and you’ll find balance.
If you ask me today if I’m alright with how I raised my children, I’d tell you that I’ve loved them with everything I am. That is something that has never changed. Regardless of how things have turned out, I have made all my decisions with love.
Employer vs Employee. We’ll do a deep dive and examine things.
Work. Most of us go to work each day with either a sense of purpose or as a means to an end. What drives you inside? Is it your own desire, or is it because your employer places expectation on you? Do you feel valued at work? All questions that I’m sure we’ve pondered at some point. Let’s look into it through the eyes of Zombie.
I’ll reflect back to my upbringing and tell you that I had a Father who was very motivated. He believed in working as hard as possible each and every day. He would regularly tell me how I needed to act at work, that I should make myself as valuable to the employer as possible, and do as you’re told. My Father hopped around when it came to jobs. I think he was always restless as well, but wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Even though he’d always told me to be very dedicated to my employer, he didn’t seem to live by that mantra. He was easily upset by bosses and didn’t like having someone telling him what to do. He had great skills in the automotive industries, so finding other work seemed to happen fairly easily. He never made a lot, but he had work.
After moving about to different dealerships, he decided that it was time to break out on his own, and opened his own body shop. He had the gift of gab and knew many in the industry. This helped to get his start-up moving and then it started to take off. I’d love to tell you that everything went great from there, but while he was a great body man and mechanic, he was terrible at business. Lacked in the accounting area and it would become his downfall. Once he ended his business, things were tough. We struggled quite a bit as a family. He made do with small jobs that he would do in the garage at home. He had a hard time finding work at an established place because of back taxes that he still owed from the failed business. A couple of places took a chance on him, but it fell short quickly when the state and federal government came around wanting to take his pay and harass the business. These were really rough years in my childhood and I still suffer from events through those years.
The big turn around came when he was hired at Jeep Corporation as a supervisor. They were amazed at his knowledge and he quickly became a favorite around the plant. This was the steadiest employment that I remember him having in his life. He enjoyed what he was doing and felt he’d found his purpose. He still struggled with bosses telling him what to do, but decided to keep his head down and toe the line for the sake of his family.
As I’ve stated in numerous other blogs, I’ve been a study of humans for most of my life. I watched quietly and learned from others. I paid attention to everything my Father was saying about working hard and being valuable. He just wasn’t aware that I’d started doing this as part of the underworld. Hard work and paying attention to details does make you valuable. I’ll stay away from that part for now.
When I started working in the “regular” world. I kept my mouth shut and paid attention, worked my hardest to become as valuable as possible. I started to find that even though I was doing all the right things, it didn’t necessarily translate into good things from my employers. While they enjoyed seeing me arrive every day and working my hardest, the reward that came with it was minuscule. Not all bosses enjoyed someone who was good at their job. Numerous bosses through the years would take notice and look for ways to hold me back, or sabotage me in some fashion out of jealousy or concern that I might be coming for their job. Things just weren’t adding up, why wasn’t I able to break through? I was doing everything that I’d been taught. It just didn’t make sense.
In one of my jobs, I’d worked on a night shift, and had quickly moved through the ranks. I’d moved into a management position and was thinking that I’d finally be making headway to a better life. I dedicated myself and many hours to making the department and the company better. Never stepped away from long hours, or call backs after going home for the night. I just knew that if I kept it up, my value would skyrocket and I’d be noticed. In reality, I was taken advantage of. I’d eventually be moved to another department and given the opportunity to either take a pay cut and stay, or end my career. The company was making “moves” and was in a transition, so they needed everyone to be a “team” player and take whatever they offered. The next department was just hell on earth. The hours were 7 p.m. until 4 a.m. and we never got out on time. I already had issues with sleeping, so the change didn’t do my body, or life any favors. The work was tedious, and the people in the department were pretty terrible. I did my best to suck it up but knew that I wasn’t going anywhere and needed to make a change. I talked with my boss to see if I could get back to the pay level that I’d been at prior and he didn’t even slow down when blurting out “NO!” He then added to it, “you should be grateful that you even have a job, this is the best you’ll ever do in your life.” There you have it, there’s the payoff for years of hard work and service. This is the best I’ll ever do? Once those words rolled out of his mouth, I became determined to find other work, and quickly. It was time for change.
I found work at my current employer quickly. I just needed to wait for paperwork and drug testing to be cleared. Once that happened and the offer was made, I was ready to share the news with my boss. This may be cringe worthy to some people but it was one of the defining moments in my work life. I walked into work that night, did my normal job, which was starting to get picked at because I’d asked for the raise. At the end of my shift I went to the H.R. department and asked if I could be paid out for all of the leave that I’d acquired, if I left tonight? They said absolutely and asked if I’d be leaving then. I told them to get the paperwork ready and I’d be right back. I went into my boss’s office and gave him the news that I was leaving. He kind of snickered and leaned back in his chair. At that point, I threw my badge on his desk and told him to fuck himself! I then added that no one would ever tell me what my value is, or that this is the best I’d ever do. I then told him I was going up to H.R. because they had paperwork waiting for me to sign and he should maybe reconsider the next time he decides to take a shit on someone. That was the best, most confident walk I’ve ever had in my life. I strutted like a peacock on full display for the world to see. I learned then that my value is decided by me, not my employer, not by a boss, but me. I put the world on notice that night and changed within.
I’ve spent many years at my current job. I still believe in working hard and doing my best, but it’s more of a self serving thing. I do it because it’s what I want to do, not because I’m being manipulated by others. I know my value and if someone wants me to do the extra, they need to step up and treat me accordingly. It’s not being cocky or arrogant. It’s knowing that as an employee, you can make or break the place that you work at. You trade your life for a paycheck. That’s reality. We’re paid to give up time, to further the cause of a company. Yes, it provides for our life outside of work, but that’s the trade and it should be done fairly. Understand that I appreciate my job and what’s it’s done for my family, but I’m also aware that I’ve given blood, sweat and tears to further their cause. Fairness, that’s what it comes down to.
As a supervisor/manager now, I hold all of these things sacred and I treat my employees accordingly. I know that they all have value and lives, so I let them know that they’re appreciated. Even when they’re in a position that requires them to stay over, and they don’t want to, but have to. I thank them. It’s a simple gesture, but it means something. It means that I take notice of them, and that I appreciate them. That’s not something that I’ve experienced much in my life. I want my workers to know that I’d never ask them to do something that I wouldn’t be willing to do myself. I’m also willing to stand by their side and do the hard work with them, not above. This is the way it should be done in all companies. This is how I want to feel when I arrive to work, that I matter, that I’m important and what I do there is valued. Big bonuses would be great, but I’d take a “thank you” any day of the week…with sincerity.
It comes down to balance and respect. We know that we all need to work in order to provide, but that doesn’t need to be held over our heads. That’s not how you motivate humans…at least not this human. I’m motivated by people who are willing to get into the trenches with me and do the hard work. I’m motivated by a work force that has empathy for one another, understanding that we are all in this game of life together. Balance. Respect. Think it through. What motivates you at work? What is it that you need to maintain your desire to keep showing up? Is it just for the paycheck, or is there satisfaction gained in what you do?
I’m proud of who I’ve become. I’ve found the balance that I speak of. I’ve kept the many things that my Father has taught me and added a bit of my own flavor to it. While I’m coming closer to the end of my career, I still get up and put in a full days work. I owe my employer that. We’ve agreed to exchange money for time, and for the moment, I’m alright with it.
Thanks for taking the time to read through, and I hope that this gives you something to think on.
These very words run through my head on a regular basis. When I’m thinking about relationships in my life, whether it’s with family, friends, co-workers or my spouse. These people have become part of your world. Some by choice, others are just stuck with you. Navigating someone that struggles with their emotions can be tricky, and I’m sure at times, painful. The best piece of advice that I can give to those around me is to try to remember; “it’s not you, it’s me.”
Relationships throughout my life have been both influential, and cumbersome. Sprinkle in with that moments of happiness and love. I take the development of a relationship seriously. This is mostly because of my inability to trust. Trust, itself is not something that I take lightly, it has to be earned in my world. I don’t just hand it over without taking the time to look you over and through you. It may sound harsh, but it’s a reality that I had to maintain for survival. If you give trust, you’re handing over power to another. That power can then be exploited, and used for harm. Harm that can be both mental and physical. As a survivor, I’ve always been cautious and remain so to this day.
When I talk about trust and relationships, a flurry of emotions start to pulse within my body. I become immediately hardened. When someone wants to enter my “circle of trust”, what is it that they bring to it? “What’s the angle?” I’m sure while you’re reading this you’re thinking, wow, just be friends with someone, it can’t be that hard. I beg to differ. If you struggle with mental illness, if you’ve seen people do and say horrible things, or you’ve witnessed what can happen when the wrong person is let in, you’d get it. We’ll call it damage control, or threat assessment.
Let me tell you about when I first met my wife Karla. We chatted on the computer for awhile before we actually met in person. Even then, I met up with her at a park, somewhere I felt safe, comfortable. In fact, it’s the very same park that I turned my life around in. When I was at my lowest point and had no direction, I went to this park to walk and that turned into some 39 years of running, as well as a purpose to keep going. Karla and I met there for a run and got caught in a rain storm. We finished the run, both soaked from head to toe. It was an amazing moment and I felt something then for her, but I remained guarded. We continued dating for some time and even then, I would sit at a distance from her, in my own home! I was reluctant to get close to her even though she seemed wonderful. We talk and joke some about all of this now, but she can also tell you that it’s not been an easy road with me. We married and started our life together, I was thrilled that I’d met someone that seemed so good, so different from others. A part of my wall stayed in place even then. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Years have gone by and once finally seeking counseling, I was able to sit down and tell Karla everything about my past. Who I was, what I know, what I’ve seen. I was terrified to do this, but with the help of my counselor, I’d gained enough strength to finally truly bring Karla into my “circle of trust.” I’d already played out everything in my head a thousand times. How I’d tell her everything and she’d withdraw and run away. Surprisingly, that never happened. She sat and listened intently to everything. Perhaps even shared tears with me. She never walked away, she didn’t judge, and I was shocked. Her words were “this is not who you are now, you are not that same person and have grown into an amazing man.”
Her words stay with me daily. I need that reinforcement in my brain so that I don’t slide backwards. Because as I stated at the beginning, it’s not you/her, it’s me. Karla was not the one with all of the insecurities, it’s me. She’s not the one that has caused harm to me, those people are gone now. Yet I struggle. The good days far outnumber the bad, but I know now that I can get through the bad days. They won’t keep piling up to become an infinitely high wall.
To tell this now feels right. I want people to know that you can be yourself and maneuver around someone that has been broken, or still remains so. I would only ask that you be patient, don’t judge and actively listen when the person wants to talk. I’m a prime example of someone that usually doesn’t want to talk, although I’ve gotten better. My co-workers can all share stories of what it’s like to be around me when things aren’t right in my world. I close up, stay away and don’t feel the need to talk much at all. This can bring about feelings in them that they’ve done something wrong. That perhaps they weren’t doing some task that has made me angry, or not performed as I would expect them to. When really, it’s just me. It’s just me hanging on at that moment to some kind of sanity. Holding onto the belief that I can feel good again, that my day will improve.
“It’s not you, it’s me” is a powerful message I’m sending to the world. I can care for others, I can love like anyone else, but I have been hurt, and broken. I tell this because if you’re like me and feel at times that you’re sitting on the edge, holding people back, get the help that can make things right again. Please don’t take it out on those around you. It can only become more damaging to everyone involved. Think of it like a child that is a witness to violence or hostility. While some think that some kids are too young to understand these events, it does stay with them. My illness cannot be the cause of someone else’s downfall. I don’t want myself or anyone else that struggles to have to carry the burden of harming. Seek the help and turn the page.
In my closing I want to say that for the first time in my life I’ve been able to say aloud that I struggle with mental illness. Taking ownership of that was important. I’ve come to realize that it’s my health and is no different than getting the flu. There are treatments and there is hope! Getting others to understand that is important to me now. For those that suffer themselves, and for those that love us. Breaking barriers and stigmas, one blog entry at a time.
I never thought of myself as much of a writer. This all came about by chance, and some motivation provided by my cousin Marilyn who had already been doing her own blogging. I fell into the world of blogging by deciding one year to raise money for Mobile Meals of Toledo.
My wife had been a long time volunteer who delivered meals to folks who were in need of regular healthy meals but struggled to get this done on their own. I went along with my wife a few times to assist and quickly understood why she was doing this and that this was an amazing organization! They’re great people working on a very tight budget, trying to make sure the most vulnerable would be fed, regardless of income. This touched my soul as I remember as a child what it felt like to be hungry, and longed for regular home cooked meals. I decided I had to do something. I had to find a way to bring attention to Mobile Meals and assist in getting them more funds to keep doing their great work, but what? What could I do?
Being a long time road runner, I decided to challenge myself to run 30 races in a single year. Why 30? Well, it was to celebrate my 30th year of running. I wanted to take something that had saved me personally and turn it into a year long charity event! All the proceeds, donations from everything that I did would be given directly to Mobile Meals of Toledo. So, we got with the folks at Mobile Meals and I pitched my idea. They were all in! I needed to broaden my social medial footprint and perhaps start a blog. The blogging seemed kind of odd to me and I was never very good at talking about myself. Things needed to change so that I could make this a success.
2015 was the year that I took on this challenge and found myself having one of the best running years of my life! The reason it was so great? Because the running was not all about me. It was for others. I felt all of the people that were in need and it just made me run more, faster, happier! I began to sit in front of the computer and try to describe all the details of my races, how I was feeling, how far I had run, where I had traveled to, everything. Each blog entry seemed to get a little easier. I felt at home at the keyboard. I found that I suddenly enjoyed being a story teller and sharing these details began to inspire others. Some would show up at the races and cheer for me, while others would read my blogs and begin their own fitness journey. Positive strives were beginning to happen on all fronts. This was amazing!
My love for running was just easy for me to talk about. It was my home and my comfort zone. I love to tell people about running in different races, the sights that I’d seen along the way, the people cheering, the sounds and smells. It was just a year that I’ll never forget. I will tell you that I did finish all 30 races that I set out to run that year. Some of my best times ever also came during that stretch. Most importantly, I was able to raise thousands of dollars for Mobile Meals of Toledo and that was the greatest part of it all.
I stayed with the blogging after the that year faded. I began looking for other ways to help groups with my running. After awhile, the body started to be uncooperative and I wasn’t sure that I could keep putting myself through so many races. Interest in charities started to fade out a little as well. So, rather than fade away into obscurity, I chose to just stop for awhile and take a break. The call of my blog would remain this constant voice, beckoning me to sit down and do something again.
I truly love to write now. The subjects nowadays have been both positive/uplifting, and dark. I write about my mental health, and the struggles I’ve encountered throughout my life. I also have more plans to write about my vision or feelings of the world as a whole. Life as seen through the eyes of Zombie. For anyone that’s not aware, I’m Zombie. The name I’ve carried now for many a year. Earned by lack of sleep due to odd working hours, night terrors, reoccurring dreams, and fear of what might happen if I close my eyes. These hazel eyes have seen much and now it’s time to share how they view everything.
The idea of writing a book has crossed my mind and I’ve started throwing some things on here, saved for another day. I write mostly by my mood, what I’m feeling, or just something that catches one of my senses. I can hear something, perhaps Spring time birds, or smell a food. The sound of music is always the closest to my soul and can bring about so much. That’s actually what sat me down here tonight, music.
At this point in my life I feel like I have so much to say and not enough time to say it all. I’m unsure why I feel like this, but I’m driven, and inspired. I pour my feelings out onto this keyboard in hopes that it touches someone, anyone. I write for myself, but also for others. Maybe my feelings of never being heard throughout my life are what make me sit here. I feel as though I actually have an audience that hears me. Feels some of the things that I feel and for a moment, we connect.
Writing has become therapy. It helps to unload some of the heavy weight that I’ve carried for far too long. It seems to smooth out the rough edges, and helps me to breathe. I’ve wondered before why this didn’t come about earlier, why now. I feel that it’s my time now, it’s just that simple. I wasn’t in the right space to open up and put things down on paper, or computer screen. I’d locked so much away that now seems to be shaking loose. I’m compelled to write. Compelled to say the things that just maybe make someone smile, or even cry. I tell my sister often that when I sit here and type my blogs, if I cry at the end, I know it’s good. True story.
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I’ll keep writing until I feel that all the dark corners are cleared out. I’ll keep writing until I feel that my heart is full. I will keep writing because I’m compelled to do so. I want you all to share this journey with me. There is oh so much more to come! So, sit back, grab your phone, or get in front of your computer, and get ready to view life through the eyes of Zombie.
If you’ve been reading and following my journey lately, you may feel as though I’m sliding downward, or things are out of control. Let me reassure you that I’m a work in progress and yes, there will be tough days, but not all days are bad.
Understand that mental health is an ebb and flow kind of thing. You can ride the highs of great events, time spent with loved ones and just being alive. There’s also the challenges of stress brought about by work, family life, relationships, or brought about by triggers. (In general, when a person is “triggered,” they’re being provoked by a stimulus that awakens or worsens the symptoms of a traumatic event or mental health condition.) I felt the need to add that so that everyone understands when I say triggered, you have some kind of baseline definition. Triggered events are the toughest for me. I don’t know what can bring them on. Sometimes I have no idea why something is upsetting me so much. When this happens, and I have a moment of feeling lost, alone or worst of all rage, I reach out and ask for guidance. While I’m lucky enough to have someone in my “corner” that is a trained professional. There are other avenues that I’d highly recommend to others. Al Anon is a wonderful organization and they hold meetings on a regular basis pretty much in all communities. They’re free and even if you don’t have issues related to alcohol, you’ll find good information in those rooms. This too can help you from feeling all alone.
“Healing begins at the end of resistance and the beginning of surrender.” I found this today on social media and wow did it grab me! When we take the initiative to lower our guard and stop resisting, to surrender, we can find peace. I’ve experienced this on so many levels, that I really felt this quote. Sometimes it’s the simplest sayings, memes, quotes that can make the biggest difference in your mood. It can boost you up and make you feel “normal” again.
The power of writing, reading and music. These things are truly my safeguards. Being able to sit in front of the computer and just pound away on my keyboard is so therapeutic. I’ve found that my brain works in such a way that I need the keyboard to be able to keep up with my thoughts. Yes, I’m a skilled typist. (Thank you Waite High School). I can throw things down and purge them from my brain, good, bad or indifferent. I also recommend writing or journaling things. You can keep them all to yourself, share with others, or write them out and then burn them. I know of many that find that as a way of closure. Reading self help books and poetry can do wonders. Add some great music to any of the above and just wow! I’m currently sitting in front of the computer and listening to scores from movies, one of my most favorite types of music. I bet you’d never guess that!
I want my post to always be thought provoking and hopefully not to much for people to handle. I don’t want to hurt anyone. My time for doing that is behind me now, it’s time for a new chapter in my life. One of forgiveness and healing. I find tears start just by saying this out loud. It takes me right back to a moment sitting with my counselor and her asking me “Robert, when are you going to forgive yourself?” I exploded into tears when she asked me because that was a question I’ve never been able to answer. I’ve held myself accountable for so many things for so long, it just became a part of me. I never thought that I was worthy of being forgiven. Like I said, I’m a work in progress.
I hope that you have a better understanding of humans by reading through my blogs. As a studier of humans in general, I seek to point out things that are both good and rewarding. As I stated at the start and with my title, Not all days are bad. I’ll add to that, not all people are bad. There is a path forward, just seek it. I’ve always been jealous of my wife’s ability to see things from a different perspective. I can be in the throws of rage and she’ll say something that sparks a different thought, which carries into a different reaction, and slows me back down. I don’t think that I thank her enough for talking me off so many ledges over the years. It takes a special kind of person to handle me. Thank you Karla Jean.
In closing; I just want to say that today is a better day. I’ll keep writing, reading and listening to my music. I’ll keep seeing my counselor until we both feel that I’m back on the right track and able to go it alone. When I say alone, I don’t really mean it. I know that there are those out there that will always have my back and my best interest in mind. While I remain slightly broken, I’m good today, and sometimes that’s good enough.
As always, thanks for reading, I’m honored that you all take the time.
I went on walkabout today through some of my usual areas, added a few new ones along the way to keep my brain entertained. My sister by my side and a beautiful day on tap, it looked to be great! We chat about all aspects of our lives along with some of the nuggets we caught on the news. Being that I’d gone to see my counselor the other day, we kind of go over what was discussed and of course any “homework” that I may have to complete.
If I’ve not mentioned this before, going to see someone and talking through things also means that you need to do “the work.” You can’t just stroll into an office, sit on a couch and tell all your tails, and then expect for them to pull out the magic wand and make everything wonderful. It’s just not like that. While I have sat down on a very comfortable couch and unloaded all kinds of “stuff”, I’m challenged. It’s a good thing. The idea of seeing someone is to retrain your brain to stop thinking the same way. To alter the route of your internal GPS! In my case, it also means that you need to find out the reasons for behaviors, or things that cause you mental pain. I’ve learned, it’s not always what I’ve thought was the cause. There are many layers and some take time to bring to the surface.
I want to take this moment and just say that I do these blogs #1 because I’m finding that putting it out here seems to be a form of cleansing. Some might think that it’s “too much information”, or they feel it’s not appropriate to discuss. Yes, I’ve run into that kind of feedback for things I’ve shared. I also do this hoping that it reaches someone else. Maybe someone that’s gone through similar life stories, or perhaps even worse. I’ve certainly heard my share of horror stories from others that in a way, has helped me to. Sharing of painful events with others makes you feel less alone. At one point in my life I thought it best to keep everything to myself and never discuss my life. Someone would judge me and that would of course make my rage even worse. We have a problem in the country with casting people aside just because they’re hurt or broken, and it’s not right.
Secrets and Silence. This is truly something that comes to mind when I think of how I was raised. We weren’t meant to speak our minds or share our feelings, that’s dirty. Secrets were meant to be kept among only a select few. “Why would you want to put your dirty laundry out there for all to know?” I’m betting there’s a few of you right now that have heard that phrase, or one much the same. Some of the most awful things can happen and yet, we’re meant to never speak a word.
In my “past life” I was trained to be a watcher, to not speak, but to listen. I would see things that would disgust me, yet I was to keep it a secret. Never tell, never snitch, or pay the price. I tend to dance around this part of my life still. I’m working on bringing all of it out and sharing it with more than just my closest pack. There are parts of my life that I’m not proud of, but I survived. It took years to finally discuss openly with family members some of the things that went on in my world. Secrets run deep and they change you. It’s as though it’s a form of rot that just builds up inside of your body. Talking about it, while painful, is the way to cleanse the rot. To purge the system.
I’m learning that my story is unfortunately not rare. That others walking about have much worse things still left unkept inside of them. It’s as though I can almost hear the pain when they talk, or feel what they’re feeling when they too dance around the truth. Silence and Secrets is everywhere, and it needs to change. The hurt that people hold takes away from their true self. The inner beauty that was meant to be shared from the start. It’s as if the soul is gone and their eyes show the emptiness that’s been left behind. I wish that I wasn’t able to see or hear these things. I wish others would look for ways to find themselves again. We can’t turn back time, we can’t make all of the bad people that have floated in and out of our lives disappear. We can however claim our soul back! Don’t let the demons win here.
I’ve started this topic, this particular subject on so many occasions and could never finish. I’ve walked away from this computer so many times, unable to really put down what I felt, what I see, how I feel. It’s raw, it’s real, and there’s no shame in feeling the way I do. This I know. I’m again hoping that right now someone reads through this and says I do feel this way and I don’t want to hold onto the Silence and Secrets any longer. I want to have my light, and my soul again. It’s not crazy, none of us are crazy. We’re just damaged and that to is alright. To say that “it’s o.k. to not be o.k.” should be understood in society and embraced. It doesn’t make you bad, it just means that you hurt right now. I’d like to dig deeper into where everything went wrong on mental health. Perhaps I’ll touch on that in another blog.
I’ll close this out by saying thank you for all that read these. I love it when people want to discuss things I write about, or share their insight. Conversation is a good thing and getting to know people like myself that are damaged, you’ll find we still have value. I have the saying on my latest Road I.D. that I wear on my Garmin every day. It says “Broken crayons still color.” I love that. I may be broken but I still have so much to offer. If you’re willing to let go of the Silence, or finally share the Secrets, I promise you there will be relief. You may be broken, but you can still color, and color you will!
Thank you again for being a part of the Zombie File.
My sister and I went on walkabout today. I couldn’t resist, beautiful blue skies, mild temps, it was a must. We headed out on one of my favorite routes that goes through the side of town we grew up in. It’s rough and depressed, but it’s still a part of me. People ask me all the time, “why do you still walk through there?” The answer is, I really don’t know. It’s still a part of me, I guess. I don’t fear for my safety or feel out of place. I’ve walked or driven those streets a million times and know them all very well. I can get around without ever having to look at a street sign. This has been a discussion with my counselor as well. There are so many bad memories there, why do I still go? Numerous discussions have been had about the subject, and I’m still searching for an answer that I can give, at least one that makes sense.
Once we reached an area that we spent a portion of our childhood in, I said “let’s go down this street and take a look at our old house.” It’s the home that we probably spent the most years in, but it kind of represents all the different houses we lived in. If anything, I had feelings of sadness seeing the house. It hasn’t changed a lot from the time we lived in it. Has a certain feeling of darkness. Not that all memories there were bad, but different. We moved around enough that nothing ever really felt like home. It seemed as though once we started to make “normal”, it was time to move on to the next spot. Something I didn’t understand as a child. Some homes seemed alright, so why were we moving again? I wouldn’t understand the answer to that question until I became an adult. Money and finances were not my parents’ strong suit. During these times they looked for homes that were considered buying “on land contract.” The intent was to stay, it just didn’t work out.
Walking past this particular house got us talking more about people that we knew in the neighborhood. I delivered papers on this street and knew pretty much everyone back then. Homes that my friends grew up in and areas we ran around in. It was always a little on the edge, but the look of it now really makes you sad. Numerous houses now gone, torn down, others in serious disrepair and looking almost unlivable. This expanded our conversation to include “what the hell happened to society?” How did we ever get to this? My brain would then go to, how are the kids on this street growing up now? I know the damage that came with my upbringing. What level of hurt would they have and pass on to others? Very deep and unsettling thoughts.
We continued on and worked our way through the area. Then headed towards the river. As you’d go, you could see a house here, and a house there that looked as though they were still trying to hold on. Like islands in a land of insanity. Small walled up fortresses standing their ground against the darkness. Do you think these people fear the night? Do they wonder if/when the tide will finally flood over them and take their island down into blackness? I know, they’re dark thoughts, but it’s real. Every block we go through has this same look. What can be done to stop the spread of this virus? How can we get it back to “normal” again? Questions that we can all ponder. I’ve always hoped that one day this side of town would find it’s way through and become full of life again.
More discussions. My Sis and I thought, if only people would communicate again. Maybe that’s part of the problem. Step away from social media and engage in realism. Maybe step outside of your small island and attempt to make things better with a neighbor. Pick things up, help others learn to be self-sufficient. Teach! Teach people to take pride in anything and everything they have. Conversations are the way. We need to be beacons of hope, rather than spreading sorrow. I’ve seen enough sorrow to last a lifetime, and then some. “We need to bring our own light to the darkness.” I like that. There’s an old saying “it takes a village.” I say this a lot at work. I treat my office in just this way. We work together with a goal of succeeding. If this is carried into these neighborhoods, and taught to those that want to live better, that want to raise their children in an environment that’ll breed happiness, and comfort, it should be done. What’s the alternative? I think we’re seeing it on full display all across this country. Neighborhoods and communities are dying.
If you’re a fan of Harry Potter or The Hobbit series. You’ll probably be able to envision the darkness that I see at times. The blackness spreading and consuming everything in its path. While I see these things, I also know that I have it within myself to make better. Ask yourself what you can do that can make a positive change in the world. Then ask, how can I spread this positive mindset to others? We can turn the tide. We can push back the wave of blackness and make things right. I choose light over darkness. I choose right over wrong, good over evil. I choose to be Harry Potter or Bilbo Baggins! We need to be the heroes of our story and help others to do the same.
“We need to bring our own light to the darkness.” Bring your light. Shine as long as you can and with everything you have. I refuse to give up. Perhaps that’s part of the answer as to why I still walk through my old neighborhoods. I’m trying to bring the light into the darkness.
As always, thanks for reading. I’ll get back with you all soon. I have much more to say on this topic and so many others.
You are enough. Your voice matters. This is something that I need to remind myself on a daily basis. I’ve found myself in kind of an old familiar place of late. Numerous events in my life brought about feelings of old, and along with those feelings, the desire to handle events in a darker fashion. The world that I grew up in was just that way. There is a certain “comfort” to maintaining a way of doing things. Routines are comfortable for most of us. The problem with this particular routine is that it’s not healthy, nor is it good for my future.
Lately it’s been the “Perfect Storm” for me. A combination of work stresses, dealings with contractors, and the arrival of an unwelcome person outside of my core “family” members all seemed to show up at the same time. I’ve worked long and hard to handle all of these kinds of situations, but suddenly found myself drowning in self-doubt, anxiety, and worst of all, hostility. Hostility in my mind turns to violence. That has been my comfort zone for a good part of my life. No, this is not a thing that I’m proud of, it’s just a fact and a part of who I am. If someone wronged me, they were handled. It seemed clean and quiet. I had no feelings for the other person(s) involved. It was business.
At this point in my life, I’ve grown much and, again, work hard to see things from a different perspective. I surround myself with more positive people, remind myself of everything that is good in my life and do the best I can to be a good human. Everything seemed to be going along almost as if I was on cruise control. Work life, home life – I was good. Then the beginning of the storm came.
Work stress. We all have it. Some things seem simple enough and I truly believe in going in, doing my job and leaving. I want nothing more. I do however believe that if you show up at work, you work. This standard is for everyone involved from the very top to the last person on the list. When that doesn’t happen, it doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll leave that there.
Contractors. We recently had a large company send out a team to mark up everyone’s yards in our neighborhood so that they could prepare to put new wires underground. The lead up to it was less than coordinated. One day we had like 30 trucks just converge on our streets and guys going all over spray painting everyone’s grass and throwing flags down. Most of the workers were reluctant to give information as to what they were setting up for, so it made everyone in the neighborhood a touch edgy. It turns out they were the first part of several groups that would come into the area to begin a project of burying cables underground. Once the spray painting was completed, the next group arrived with shovels and machinery. Now I was getting nervous. By the second day, there was a group in my backyard digging 3 holes that were up to their shoulders deep. O.K., now I’m ready to flip out! I asked the guys digging what was going on and none of them spoke English. I’m pretty handy with my Google translator, but didn’t have my phone on me and to be honest, I was too worked up to even think of it. I finally found what appeared to be a supervisor. I began asking questions as to why they were digging up my yard and why I wasn’t advised. This conversation went south in a hurry. He was dismissive, rude and mildly confrontational. (Here comes the old me!) In a quiet voice, I explained that no one steps foot onto my property without some form of invitation, period. I won’t go into everything that was said, (legal reasons) but when I was through, he never came close to my home again. I contacted the city after this episode and was told it was AT&T putting new cables in and they had easement rights. The layout of my neighborhood was sent to me and basically my entire backyard is an easement! This is where the feelings of being voided out, looked past, ignored, all of it come rushing to the surface. I was on fire, an out of control fire! It became so bad that I couldn’t talk, and if I did it was to mutter a few incoherent words or cussing. I needed help and fast!
On the same day that this was all happening, my wife shared that a “relative” was coming into town. This particular individual sets off pretty much every sensor that I have. He reeks of people I’ve seen and dealt with for the better part of my life, and I wasn’t ready for this. Not now, not with everything happening.
I have a very protective nature towards people in my circle. I look at them as though they’re an extension of myself. If I feel that someone in this circle is at risk, I want to eliminate the risk, quickly and quietly. This “relative” was definitely on my radar and, in my mind, viewed as a threat. I had several discussions with other family members and stated my concerns and asked that we all band together to maintain a frontline of protection for those I felt could be harmed. By this time I was just reeling. I’d reached a point that I was in full shut down for fear I was going to lose control. I had to reach out and ask for help. I needed to get things back under control and find out how this happened to me.
I was able to get in to see my counselor and it was decided that the overwhelming number of “triggers” hit me at the same time. “The Perfect Storm”. The bigger question was where did all of this anger come from? What is it within me that was causing so much damage? That is the big question, for which at the time of this writing, I don’t have an answer. More digging into my stored memories/events will surely bring about the reasons for this happening. I’m always a little nervous looking back on things. There are some memories that you don’t want to revisit. Painful things that have formed me into who I am. I just keep telling myself that I’m worth it, I want feel good again.
“You are enough, your voice matters”. It’s important to me to hold this. It’s important to all of us to feel like we’re enough and that our voice matters. Often times we can be dismissed by even the closest people to us. Maybe not intentionally, but it can happen. If you carry things or harbor darkness, it can turn into something even uglier, quickly. Trust me on this.
My counselor knows me well and how to deal with me when I’m hypervigilant. The most calming thing that she said was, “Robert, look at me, you are going to be alright”. I believe her because she’s helped me get there before. I am enough and my voice matters.
I stated before that not all of my blog postings would be warm and fuzzy. Life is messy, and some of us out there carry things that at times are just too heavy. It’s alright to say that. It’s alright to reach out to someone and say “I need help. I can’t do this by myself”. Isolation, while it may seem like a good response for these kind of events, is totally the wrong answer. I’ll quote a good friend here, “Stay out of your head, it’s a bad neighborhood.” True story. Some neighborhoods are so bad we need to be guided through them, and that too is alright.
If you suffer from any kind of trauma, or have “unkept” items rolling around inside of you. Do me a favor, reach out, ask for help. Seek the assistance from someone that has the knowledge and wisdom to guide you through that bad neighborhood. It will work out better in the end. I know, I’ve been to that dark edge and it’s not a good place to be. Remember, You are enough, your voice matters.
The zombie file 