Since Phase Two is about action, then I suppose this entry is more about the quality of our actions. This is about the accumulation of our daily movements. This is what we do on a daily basis, which can be as simple as getting out of bed or brushing our teeth, to showing up for work or eating properly.
This is about our programs that help us live and build a better life. But also, this is about the realization that comes when something occurs and, finally, we see the benefits of all we’ve created.
This is about the moment when we turn around and see where we are now as opposed to where we used to be, which is far away if you ask me.
This is about our tenacity and our perseverance; and more, this is about the time when we look back at the person we used to be and we hardly recognize ourselves because we’ve come so far.
Our past is impactful. Absolutely.
There is no reason to deny this. If it meant nothing to us, then none of this would have been memorable. In fact, our memories are behind us now. If it wasn’t love or if it wasn’t pain or fear, and if it wasn’t meaningful or life-altering, or if the feelings we had weren’t real, or if everything we went through or lived through wasn’t what it was, then nothing would have prompted us to be where we are (or who we are) now.
I understand the products of our environment. I understand the hooks of our trained ideas and assumptions and the cultural trainings we’ve received since birth.
But either way –
We cannot negotiate our past. It’s done now. It’s over.
It’s in the books. The past is gone and neither you nor I can live there anymore.
Hence, the forward motion.
Hence, the action and the tenacity it takes to get up each day. This has to happen come rain or shine or whether we ‘feel” up to the task or not.
Either way, life is always going to move.
I promise you that a day is going to come when you see things differently.
You will see a combination of your efforts and minor successes and how this adds into a compilation of events and suddenly you can see the value in all that you’ve done
You can tell.
You know that you are not who you used to be.
You can see how much you have changed and grown, which was otherwise unnoticeable because to you (or us) or to anyone, it’s hard to notice your own growth while its taking place.
Either way, a time comes and there it is –
The results that came from the tenacity of your efforts.
You are not a victim or a volunteer.
You are no one’s puppet.
You have changed. Or better yet, you have evolved and become distant from the past version of who you used to be.
Unfortunately, I would love to say this comes quickly and easily.
But you and I both know the truth on this matter.
Besides, if I said this, then both you and I know that I was either lying or looking to sell you something.
And that’s not what I’m here for.
If life was so easy and if there were no hang ups from our past; or if there was no such thing as depression or anxiety; or if there was no such thing as the lessons from betrayal or shame, or if there were no such thing as the cruel punishment that comes with humiliation, or if we never felt the sting of abuse, or put simply, if we could “just” get over anything and everything, then there would be no need for this journal.
The list of mental health tragedies wouldn’t be what it is today. Suicide wouldn’t be an issue.
If change was so easy, there would be no need for self-help books. There would be no need for dietitians or nutritionists or work-out coaches. If transformational change was quick and easy, then there would be no coaches. I would be out of a job opportunity, which means there would be no such thing as motivational speakers. There would be no reason to harp on ourselves or beat ourselves up when (or if) we never reached our goals because, like I said, if it were easy, everyone would reach their goals. We would all be healthy and happy and fine.
But that’s not life now, is it?
That’s not reality.
No, we have our cognitive distortions and the deception of our perception.
We have cognitive snares that hook into the flesh of our ideas and creates thinking errors that tarnish our assumptions.
We have fears.
We have bouts of shame and bouts with old memories that remind us of discomfort or sadness and pain.
We have all been alive for long enough to see what tragedy looks like. We all know what loss is. We know what it feels like to let someone down and, even more, we’ve all been there to see what happens when we let ourselves down.
I agree.
Change is hard.
I agree, transformational change is hard too, especially when the movements are slow and steady.
It’s hard when you can’t see the forest from the trees.
It’s hard when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and for the time being, all you have is your routine to keep you going.
All you have is the accumulation of your efforts which may or may not seem to be sufficient or efficient enough to trigger the reward system.
But yet, I promise you this:
I promise a time will come when a light shines and you turn around. You will see the collection of your tiny successes and the momentum that has kept you moving.
Even if this is at a snail’s pace, then so what because at last, you’ve come to a moment of awareness that shows you the value of your every step.
The light comes on –
Something will trigger this.
Maybe you’ll see something or hear something, like a song from your youth. Or maybe you come across a smell that reminds you of a time that was long ago.
Either way, something will trigger this and in this moment of realization, you’ll recognize that your past is still there and still in its perspective place, which is behind you now.
Maybe you notice a trigger that used to pull and somehow, the effects are not the same or not as damaging to you. You realize that you’ve moved on or away from where you were.
You are not bothered by the same things anymore. You are not afraid of the same things either.
But yes. Is the past real?
Absolutely, it is.
Should we learn from this?
Of course we should.
Years back, I grew up in a small, somewhat normal and everyday dysfunctional town. I say this but my town was no crazier or more dysfunctional than any other place in middle-income America.
My culture was my culture and my upbringing was my upbringing.
My past is certainly my past and behold, I remember my last journey through the old town.
I remember driving through the streets where I used to walk when I was a kid. I remember the old faces and the old names. I remembered the old places and the old hang-outs. I remember the friends who died young and the friends who died recently.
I will always know the streets in my old neighborhood. Only, something’s different about them to me now. I was a stranger here.
But sure, I knew where to go and how to get there. I knew my town well because this is where I grew up. This is where I had my first beer. This is where I had my first big fall.
This is where I broke my leg. This is where I hurt myself in a basement playing Manhunt, which is the same as hide-and-seek – and I say this because this was the first time I ever thought about actually kissing a girl, who by the way, tripped me to keep from being tagged and as a result, I ended up in the E.R. getting stitches in my face.
This town was my life.
This is where I used to find places so I could hide. This is where I experienced my introduction to the five fingers of rejective thinking which, again, I mention this often but my reason is to drive this point into memory. This is where my fingers of rejective thinking originated, which are blame, shame, fault, guilt and regret. This is where I learned to doubt myself.
This is where I learned the inaccuracies about myself; and more, this is where my history began to turn inward.
This is where I learned ways to defend myself or preemptively, this is where I learned to strike first before I was struck upon. These lessons are not so different than any one else’s. We all learn ways to socially adjust. Perhaps my ways were unhelpful. But still, at some point, everyone has to learn about the rules and how to play on the playground.
And me –
I learned self-preservation here. I learned about the use of having a personal image, which was not me, per se; but more, I created an image for myself to hide behind, like a tough guy, and I’d use this as protection.
I created a persona to develop a personal character that would help keep me safe – or, even if the image was unsafe, at least I could choose to be the villain.
I could choose to be the bad guy because no one bullies the bad guy. Or, I could choose to be the outcast and thus, I can build a romanticized version of the gangster who goes down in a blaze of glory – but let’s be clear, there is no blaze and there is no glory here.
None of that was real. In fact, the only thing real about the personalities of my past is the accumulation of events which took place. I say that because this is what impacted my life in a way that seemed otherwise inescapable.
I used to live in my past and sometimes I find myself unearthing old problems. However, and fortunately, I am not who I was nor am I where I used to be.
I can see my change. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not intimidated by my old bullies or afraid of the public humiliations that once took place.
First: no one can or will ever pick on me again because as I have grown, I have learned how to be my own bodyguard.
Also, I do not have the same worries about weakness. I am not looking to buy anyone’s friendship or attention. I am not looking to win a vote or to gain friends or influence people.
I used to have little hiding places in my town. I recognized them during my last drive-thru.
I would hide there, where no one could find me. Sometimes these spots were degrading in nature or maybe they were dark. Or, perhaps the emotional content of these memories are intense. So, my connection with these hiding places are both comforting and painful and sad yet, I know why and where I used to hide.
I do not have to do that anymore.
The locations of these places were perhaps typical or at least somewhat typical for a kid in his teens, hanging out in empty parking lots or behind stores, or in fields or perhaps this could be any variation of a suburban story. However, I remember the last trip I took through my old town.
Nothing looks the same as it did back then.
No, much of my town has received a face lift.
All the bullies I knew have grown and moved away and some of them – well, oddly enough, we are very close now, like family.
My old intimidations and my old fears are just that; old, outdated, antiquated and they are otherwise, obsolete. They are gone.
So is the old me. It’s all gone.
So are the stores we used to hang out in . . .
Everything like that is gone.
I was thinking about the music from my youth. I was thinking about the songs which play on the radio from time to time. I was thinking about the burst of nostalgia that comes when I hear a song from way back when.
I can feel the memories. (Do you get that?)
The thing is, even the sad songs that lead to sad memories or the songs that lead me to bad memories cannot hurt me anymore.
Besides, I don’t even know who that person is (or was).
It certainly was not me. I had no semblance of self back then.
No, I was only searching. I was only learning. I was only on a path which inevitably took me to here, with you, which is where I am now.
If it was not real, or if it was not true, or even if our memories are shaded with lies and mistruths and even when we think about the heartaches and the letdowns; if it was not real, then none of this would have impacted me (or us).
My past is real. Absolutely, it is.
However, in my change and after turning back around to recognize how far I’ve come, I have come to the final decision that depths of my past will no longer have the right to dictate or determine the span of my future.
Nothing is as it was. Not you.
Not me.
But I know in my heart that all of this was real.
I do not know who I was. I do not know if my memories are accurate or if they have been altered or twisted because of my perception.
I do not know if, who, or how anyone else saw me or what they thought about me.
Even still, what difference would it make?
I do not know if I was the scapegoat or the lost child or the mascot or the hero in any regards.
I only know what I saw and how I thought and felt. I know about my emotional reactions and how, in all fairness, I was just a scared kid. Guess what, I still am
(sometimes. . . ).
Your bravest and most freeing moment is when you recognize who you are. This is when you give yourself the permission to be no one else.
Also, this is when you recognize what you are capable of, which is anything, within reason.
I know that boy who used to hide in the back of the stage in junior high school. I know who that kid was who used to sit on a roof and hide from the town.
I know that kid who was beaten a few times, who was kicked around, and yes, I know that kid who fell to his own self-destruction.
I know all about him.
I was there when this happened because I was the person in my skin.
Yet, I’m not that person anymore.
I’ve grown. I’ve changed.
I’ve matured and I’ve improved.
And so have you . . .
However, and since this is about action, let me also state for the record that I have pardoned myself from my past. I have forgiven myself for the thefts of services. I have absolved myself for my sins against me.
I am not mad about my uncomfortable youth or for the lies of my young adulthood, which I told to gain some kind of badge or to “be cool” at least in some capacity.
I am not mad at myself for trying too hard to be liked or accepted.
No, I have forgiven myself for this.
I am not mad about the person I was or the people I tried to impress, who seemingly rejected me anyway; yet, at last, I have come to an understanding that putting one foot in front of the other has consecutively taken me away from where I was.
That kid is gone now. I am what remains – growing stronger by allowing me this moment to reveal myself, both humbly and honestly.
If it was not love
Or
If it was not pain
Or
If it was not real
Or
If it was not impactful
Then we would not be here right now.
Just the two of us.
Yet, of course, we are here because where else would we be?
For me, my rebirth of sanity sparked the moment I decided to move on it, like a plan, or a sneak-attack on my own life.
This began when I decided to realign myself with my truths and my hopes, my dreams, and my desires, my passions and aspirations. Most importantly, my rebirth of sanity began when I decided to promote the child within me.
I had to learn how to celebrate myself.
I decided to give him (or the child within) the freedom to play without being picked on or poked at. He’s now free to laugh and to sing and dance without a care in the world. So, even if no one, everyone, or if someone else is watching, the boy in me is free to be him, in whichever way he chooses.
I know this because I am him and he is me.
If it was not my past or if it was not meaningful enough, then I don’t where you and I would be right now.
All I know is what I have lived through is real enough to lead me to being here with you.
Trust me when I say this:
there’s no place in the world that I would rather be.
This is a map of my change.
This is a chapter on my Phase Two.
More to the point, this is the accumulation of my daily actions.
So, I showed you mine . . .
Now, it’s your turn to show me yours.
The Written Addiction 