I believe in the word energy. I believe this is us and that we are energy in which, exactly like Einstein said, “Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. I can only change forms.”
I believe the body is a container and the rest is us, how we live, how we think, eat, and breathe. I believe with all my heart in the energy of the soul, which is us down to the core.
We are born this way, like this, born as a vessel that stores our energy, which is always constant. I believe the mind and the body and soul is always constant; therefore our energy is constant. We are a sum of this, always, and because of this we have the personal responsibility to choose the direction in which we direct us.
Our energy is our source and our source is out root.
I truly believe this.
I also believe in the “Root” theory because the root is the most important part of the tree; regardless to the size or the thickness of the trunk; regardless to the strength of the branches the bounty of the leaves and the span if its limbs, if the roots of a tree is weak, the the tree is weak, and therefore it will topple over and fall without the ability to hold itself up.
We are no different from this. We are always the square root of our own equation; everything begins and ends with us, which means that we will topple and fall if we don’t care for our own roots.
I believe our root is our source and since our source is our energy, I believe we have to be mindful of how spend it.
I see this as crucial: to care for, to nurture, to be mindful of the energy we consume and to understand the energy we discharge when we don’t need it anymore.
Over the years, I have had to consider this theory. I’ve had to think of the energy I use and the energy I waste. I had to consider the energy I’ve invested and wasted on the wrong ideas and the bad memories that refused to let go.
These are the things that drained me. Furthermore, these are the things that weakened my roots and made it so that I lacked the balance to stand on my own two feet. This was also partially the causes of some of my worst downfalls.
Along the way, life happens to us all. No one gets away unscathed. We all feel, we all fail, and certainly we all suffer at one point in time. I am no different here.
I remember sitting with a man that had similar life experiences. Like me, this man was once in a treatment facility to. He lived with depression. He lived through suicide attempts, drug addiction, severe abuse (and I do mean, severe) as well as a secret he kept locked tightly and never dared reveal it, until one day, this man could not hold his secret anymore.
I listened to him share his story. I remember admiring his physical strength. I remember the scriptures which were tattooed on his body like, “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. I will repay.” There were markings on his body, all of which discussed the details of his scarred life.
Again,I say I admired him. I admired this man the way a younger brother would admire and seek comfort and protection from his older brother. I admired his strength and his ability to speak.
Everything about this man was admirable to me because everything I went through was lived through by him. This was survived by him. And yes, he was scarred. Yes, he was beaten certainly worse. He was broken at times and hospitalized as well. But yet, this man endured and seemed unbreakable to me. This is why I admired him.
I admired him because I wished I had his strength. I wished I had his character. I wished I had his faith, but in my mind’s eye, all I wished I had what he had because all I had was weakness.
I believed I was weak at heart. I believed I was weak in body and that I was not only beaten and broken; I was also irreparable and permanently damaged.
I chose to hold on to the wrong things that took me in the wrong direction. I chose to hold on to the deep secrets and the shame. I held the weight of my shame and the secret disgrace, which I never asked for. I never wanted to feel this way. I wanted to be like him, my friend. I wanted to believe I could stand on my own and not feel afraid. But the truth is I was afraid. These are the things that drained me, and also, these are the things that almost killed me. These are the things I lost to in an analogy that I use often. I lost to this like water loses to a drain, and funneling away, all I could do is drown in the spiral while being sucked in to the feelings of depression and shame.
I had never spoken about the experience before. I only knew I couldn’t hold this any longer. I knew that if anyone could help me be stronger it would be him, a man that lived through years of abuse.
I had no way of describing how I felt. I wasn’t even sure how to explain what had happened to me nor did I have the vocabulary to describe and define how it happened. Besides, what I was about to confess was a secret I had never told anyone.
This was a deep rooted cause of my shame, which I saw as something that somehow tainted me, poisoned me, or better yet, I saw this as something that diseased me as a human being; and while no one knew these secrets, deep down, I always felt this was a transparent part of who I was, as if it was as clear as me standing in the open. And that’s why I always tried to hid behind an image of strength. But deep down, I knew it was all an act. I knew I wasn’t strong.
I hated me and I hated this memory. I hated the feeling of contempt I had towards myself. I hated the feeling of being dirty without the ability to ever be cleaned. I felt as if I were permanently stained, which again, as far as I was concerned, this was just another thing that made me more diseased and unlike anybody else.
I was a boy, very small, and still in the stages of my innocence. I only wanted to be happy just like any other boy. I wanted to play. I wanted to have friends. I wanted people to like me. I never wanted to look different or feel differently.
I never wanted to think there was something wrong with me or believe I was stained, which again, this is exactly how I felt. I believed I was stained.
Above all things, I never wanted to know what it meant to be taken advantage of or worse, to be used and touched in such a way that no boy should ever be touched by someone else.
I had this flaw of shame, laced around my body, and tied tightly to make it so I could barely breathe. This was my secret, which I never dared to talk about and never thought I could tell anyone about. Then again, I never thought things like this happen to anyone else.
I remember being in a room and listening to my friend detail some of the abuse he endured. I recall him detailing his young thoughts, wondering, “How could someone do something like that to a little kid?”
He went through this too.
I am not sure how I broke nor can I say what words came out first. But for the first time ever, I stepped forward. I broke down and with all my heart, I truly believe I was so diseased because of this. No one would ever like me or want me because of this. But I couldn’t hold it any longer. My strength was drained. I was beaten and scarred, but worse, I was tired of holding this memory even years after it took place.
I remember crying uncontrollably. I remember my friend held me; and again, when I say I admired him, I say I admired him the way a younger brother would admire his older sibling. He held me as I wept. He was strong and I felt protected.
I felt protected and wished I were more like him. This way, I could learn how to protect myself. I never wanted to be hurt or picked on or used, abused, or touched. I never asked for this. And my friend knew that. He knew how I felt. He also knew I needed to let this go.
He knew that I had to move forward; else, this would always hold me back; else my roots would always be weak and no matter how tall I tried to stand, I would always topple and fall because I would never have the strength to stand on my own two feet. Finally, I was about to let go of a weight that held me down and kept me from moving forward.
This is why I believe in the ability of energy. I believe energy is constant, but yet, the direction of flow is a choice that belongs to us.
I always believed that everybody is running from something. Whether it is a memory or a feeling, I truly believe people are either running in one of two ways: We are either running towards something or running away from something. I ran away for too long. Finally, I made the decision to run towards something.
Running from something leaves us lost without direction. This leads us to any port in the storm. However, running towards something gives us a destination. Running towards something gave me meaning. But more importantly, running towards something gave me a direction and location, which was good for me because I had felt lost for far too long.
I had never seen myself as strong. Yet,I also never realized how much useless weight I carried with on my soul.
My energy was never destroyed. It only changed forms, which is why I chose to take it back. I chose to make this switch because although I was older, I always felt like this little kid that was too afraid to dance because I was too scared to admit that I don’t know how. And to me, this is freedom; it’s to be able to dance, to laugh, to smile, and feel free. This is what childhood is. And while yes, a piece of mine was taken away, I realized that I had grown strong enough to empower me to take my this back.
Energy can neither be created or destroyed.
So long as I care for my roots, I swear, no one will ever be able to destroy me again.