Put the Bags Down

There is always someone coming around to claim some new cure. And we listen too. We hope. We think and we wonder. We talk to one another about things like, “Say? What would it be like if we could just push a button and have all of this craziness just go away?”
Just the push of a button and everything that hurt would be healed. No pain. No procedure. No process or recovery. Just relief. Could you imagine?

With just the push of a button, every moment of heartache, every memory, every recollection of discomfort or connection to our social illness; everything that chains us to the ideas of degradation, and every idea of personal awkwardness would simply vanish. Just a click and it’s all gone. 

Would you push it if you could?

See, I know people that would. In a sense, I know people that try but for some reason, they seem to keep pushing the wrong button — only to make things worse.
I’ve seen people push the plunger to shove aside the moments and flush out the illness, which keeps them sick. I have watched people continuously bang their head upon the same walls and wonder why they bleed. I have found myself in the same repetitions, which did nothing more than keep me frightened and on guard. I’ve dug my own grave more times than I can count.

I have opened up. In fact, I bear my chest to the sky as humbly as I can. I have the inner voice. I have battles within myself. I have to expose this because there are times when the thought machine becomes magnetic. One thought attracts another and next, my thoughts lead to a string of self-defeating ideas. By the way, no wonder why people look for a little help.

People ask about the need to vanish or find yourself somewhere else. People wonder why anyone would live a certain way. How could someone do this to themselves?
But I don’t wonder.
I’ve seen enough to know what it feels like to be too deep in my thoughts. I know exactly what it looks like to stare in the mirror and be absolutely unsure of what I see. Is this me? Is this real life? Or maybe is this some kind of crazy joke and man, I’m only the last one to know —

There is always someone looking to push a new idea. There’s always someone looking to make a trade and offer a piece of their illness. There is always someone with a suggestion, to which it seems like, “No way. They just don’t get it.”

Just a push of a button and everything would be clean. Washed away.
Every doubt. Every inaccurate worry or irrational concern. Vanished.
All the anxiety would be gone. No more overthinking. No more overcompensating. The emergency committees in your head would finally adjourn. And at last, we could rest without the unwanted concepts of anxious rejection. And as for rejection, what is this anyway?
If we think about this, rejection is not even real. And we know it’s not real but for some reason, the mind predicts the worst; in which case, all we can do is wait for the other shoe to drop.

Ah, but just the push of a button. Just a click and all of this would go away. Imagine?
No more worrying. No more habitual routines, just to keep your sanity. And yet meanwhile, what we fail to realize is it’s the same habitual routines that keep us crazy. 

I swear, the world is a crazy place. There’s always something happening. There’s always someone coming around to offer some new promise. There’s always the idea, which to me is like “Man, it would be nice to put down the baggage for a while.”
You know?
Besides, how long have we been carrying all of this around?
It seems like lifetimes, no? 
Well, for me it’s been lifetimes.

I have my share of scars. I have bags upon bags of baggage, which I have carried around for an exceptionally long time. And yeah, I don’t mind being honest about this.
I mean, after all, if I can’t be honest here with you then where can I be honest. Who can I be honest with? Besides, why pretend to be anything other than me?
I am flawed. I am scared. I am hurting. I am hopeful and hunting and searching for a new platform. I want to find my place in the circle. I want to know where I belong, which is here, right where I am (with you).

I spent too much time trying to impress others. I spent too many years trying to portray myself as someone other than me. I tried to act like nothing was wrong. I protected myself behind masks and different personalities but the result was often tragic. The anxiety machine and the deep-rooted fears were tough to hide from. I used to say, “I tried to wear a halo but my horns kept knocking it off.”
Do you even get what I mean when I say this?
I wanted to be something. I wanted to live, think and feel a certain way but there was something between me and these visions. There was this barrier, which was invisible. No one else could see this prison I was in. Including me. 

I tell you this, I have been confined in dark places. I have been in bad places. I have been around bad people. I have seen bad things but of all I have seen, the hardest place to be was exposed to the light. I have been in the light of good people and felt out of place or unfit. I believed as if I was somehow misshaped or defective. At least the darkness made sense to me. But again, just the push of a button and all of this is gone. Maybe the light was impure. Maybe the light was defective or infectious but hey, at least I could see.

I don’t listen much when people offer their opinions on suicide or drug addiction. I don’t judge or diagnose when people can’t pull themselves out of a bottle or a lifestyle. That’s not my place nor is it my position in this world to judge anyone. 

I’m just looking for a healthier button. I just want to find my way. That’s all, I swear. I was telling someone the other day about my quest to find myself.
I’m still looking by the way.
I explained that I am out of bed by 4:00 every morning. I write over a thousand words by 5:00am. I push buttons on the keys at my keyboard as I type. I do this because in answer to the question; if there was a button, would I push it? My answer is yes.
I push several of them each morning before I leave my home. I put my differences to rest. I allow the committees in my head to adjourn for the moment. I let myself go and scream (if I have to).

I’m no guru. I’m far from a know-it-all.
No, I’m just a man. Plain and simple. I’m human and for now, I just want to be good. I want to be a little better each day and keep out of arm’s reach from the demons I have, which would love to pull me back
(and watch me suffer).

Someone is always coming around to claim a new cure but in fairness, I’m not sure there is such a thing. I don’t believe in a one-size-fits-all brand of recovery.
I don’t believe in missharing. I don’t believe in lying about the things that exist in our head. Instead, I am a fan in openly addressing them and calling them out. In fact, I would rather be honest about my thoughts and feelings than pretend to be good and end up miserable. 

Note to self:
Do not be afraid to be you. Stay away from that inner critic because this just comes from a place of judgement. You don’t need to be there. Let today be sufficient for itself. Tomorrow has its own hang-ups. Get up, dress up and show up. Most people fail here. And you, by all means, you’ve managed to do this without fail. You do this everyday, regardless of the weights you carry. 

So, put them bags down son.
Don’t worry.

It won’t hurt.

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