For the record, I do not like the words, “Motivational Speaker.”
I don’t like to associate myself with this because, to me, I think this is more about ego.
I don’t mind being called a speaker. I don’t mind the presentations; although no one believes me, but to be clear on this, I am absolutely petrified before I speak. I have panic attacks. I’ve had my share of vomiting fits before entering a room.
I say this to people but no one believes me. I have social and general anxiety disorder. I have a fear of public speaking. I’m afraid that I look or sound stupid or idiotic. But that being said . . .
It’s interesting.
It’s interesting to hear when someone tells you how you helped them without even knowing about it.
And yes, it’s safe to know that even the simplest things, like saying hello to someone for no other reason than to be kind can be more lifesaving than anyone could possibly imagine.
It’s interesting to find out how something about you was impactful enough to make someone think or feel or laugh or cry.
This is strange too because at the same time, people can compliment us or say nice things and yet, internally, we never see this in ourselves.
It’s crazy, right?
Trust me. I know.
I mean . . .
Here we are on Project Earth. We’re all looking for something; and whether this is an answer to our questions or the prayers we have, or, if we’re looking for something less complex or simple, we move through the world and look around to see what we can find. But at the same time, we miss so much.
We fail to see the obvious. We fail to see ourselves in the best possible way. I don’t mean this from a point of useless pride or ego which, if we think about it, ego is everything.
Right?
Of course, it is. This is the part of us that allows us to believe that our fears and insecurities are the center of the universe.
We have this internal life and an inner voice, which we talk to and argues back.
We have different ideas about who we are. We have an assumption of how people see us which is often very different from how people really see us.
We often fail to see our strengths. We fail to notice our own beauty.
We misinterpret our thoughts and opinions for facts and law, which is our own personal theft of services. This is how we rid ourselves from experiencing a new possibility. This is how we stay stuck. And how we feed the lies instead of nurturing the good in our hearts.
Speaking of the heart, I have never been comfortable with compliments. Perhaps, this has something to do with my old or sad version of “self.”
Or maybe compliments are hard to hear because it is possible to say that I’m afraid because eventually, this person might look at me a short while later and think to themselves, “Oh, never mind. I was wrong.”
Maybe I don’t like compliments because they distract me.
Or maybe this is because they contradict the internal narrative, to whom I struggle and argue with all the time.
This is the crazy part of me –
I have seen, met, loved and cared so deeply for people who failed to either see, love or care for themselves as deeply as I care for them.
I have met some of the most beautiful people in this world. However, the sad part is they never understood how amazing, beautiful or wonderful they are.
But they are wonderful
We all are
I say this because I am a people watcher.
I notice things.
I notice a change in style, which I appreciate as well as admire the daringness to dress or wear something new or different from the typical masses.
I love to see a person who is unafraid to be themselves. I admire this.
No wait. Maybe in this case, it’s safe to say that I envy this.
Sometimes I comment on this and sometimes, I stay quiet.
But –
You never know what a word can do for someone.
You never know how a moment of humility or by allowing yourself to be modest and honest can literally change someone’s perspective on life or the way things seem.
I swear to you, a smile can turn someone from dangerous to safe. A kind word can take someone from panic mode to an empowered state of mind.
Now, at the start of this entry, I began speaking to you about what I do as a speaker. The reason for this is because as I type, I find myself speaking at the same time because, to me, this is the best way for me to reach you. To me, I can hear your voice as it reads these words. To me; this connects us and makes us more than just kindred.
Understand?
Last night . . .
I stood in front of a roomful of men who came from different backgrounds and different cultures. These were people from different age groups, different opinions, beliefs, history, and while their similarities for being in this particular meeting were all for the same reason and/or closely related; everyone had their own vehicle to get them to where they were last night.
In rehab –
Everyone has their own sight and their own sense of taste and touch.
To each their own, isn’t that what people say?
Everyone goes through their own version of life. Even though we might be similar, no one is ever exactly the same.
Yet, last night’s example showed that while in spite of our differences and regardless of our backgrounds or our culture; if we are listening to understand, rather than listening to answer, and if we are able to allow ourselves to relate instead of compare – there is a great connection that can take place.
Do you know what I call this?
I call this lifesaving.
I say this because last night’s event took me to a treatment facility, somewhere out east on Long Island.
It’s not so strange for me to be in places like this. It is not so strange to explain that my methods towards recovery are different from the commonly used 12-step program and the 12 principles which are used to govern and support an otherwise simple process.
Although this method of treatment is the platform of my recovery; over the years, I have had to try and find ways to simplify my life and understand the complex matters that come with emotional disturbances.
I was asked where I learned the things I know. And, well – quite simply, it has taken me 18,575 days to get to where I am now.
That’s just a little shy of 51 years, if you wanted to do the math.
Along the way, I have had to retrace my steps. I’ve had to pack my things and move. I’ve had to find myself. I’ve had to lose myself. I’ve had to be humbled and yes, life has taught me a fair share of unfortunate lessons. But again, as I mentioned to you yesterday, life is always teaching. Like all teachers, the lessons grow louder when we don’t listen or learn the first time.
I don’t know what the color blue looks like through anyone else’s eyes. I don’t know what a cool breeze feels like across anyone else’s face.
I only know that we can agree that certain things are good.
I know that we can agree that certain things, like say, a moment of reprieve or a sense of redemption or something reassuring can change the way we think or feel – even if only for a minute.
These are the grass roots, which is where I live, which is never too tall or too high or too removed from my earthly place in life.
I am no one different nor so special that life will wait or hold a place for me.
No, life is always moving.
Rather than offer a fake or a plastic sense of cheeriness and lead a meeting with typical clichés or positive affirmations, last night I chose to offer my words with a deliberate sense of honesty.
I cannot promise that everything will be okay. I cannot say that life will be perfect just because we decided to get our shit together.
I can’t predict the future and hell, I’m not even so sure that I can accurately predict the past.
However, all I know is that I am a person in this world. I have been moving around in this so-called vessel which I call my body. I have changed my style and I have changed the way I speak.
I’ve looked around and watched others with both envy and admiration. I’ve seen their style too and in some cases, I’ve wondered if I could be more like them. In some cases, I wanted to dress like other people. I’ve wanted to dance like other people or be as strong or able or as capable to laugh or “be cool,” while standing around or hanging out on the scene.
Again, it’s funny to hear what others think or see. This is especially so when what they see is favorable because in the contrast of what we think or believe; there is someone else out there looking at us with a sense of admiration because, to them, they would like to model themselves to be a little more like us.
That’s amazing . . .
At the same time, I say this is unbelievable
I never knew how to build. I never knew how to dare or create and allow myself to be seen or heard.
I never knew that I had the ability to do any of these things because, if asked, I believed that my only ability was to wreck or destroy. I know how to inflict pain or cause turmoil.
I know how to break things. I know how to hurt people. I know how to be selfish and angry. And more than anything else, I know how to hate people, both evenly and perfectly.
However, none of this is me anymore.
But sometimes, I regress.
I knew how to lie or to deceive. I knew how to manipulate or to coerce.
I knew how to defend myself because I knew all about fear and insecurity.
I knew about self-preservation and shame. I knew how to blame people for my problems. I knew how to deflect.
I knew how to mirror the lies of other people or how to pretend like my so-called friends and their so-called loyalties yet, I knew that all of this was bullshit.
Big time!
I knew that inside, I was a scared little boy just hoping the bullies would go away.
I knew that I was petrified of the dreams that die and leave behind an ailment of despair.
I knew that I was a frightened child who was hurt by a touch from someone who should never touch a child like that.
I knew that I was hurt by love.
Better yet, I knew that the time I tried to love someone back and the time I tried to love someone honestly, I was made a fool of.
I was hurt. I was humiliated to the point where I swore that I was a fool.
I swore to myself that I would never allow anyone to come so close that they could not only expose or punish me, but they could equally destroy me with only a word.
I swore that I would never allow myself to be vulnerable or to have an exposed weakness to which someone could sneak in and once more; they could steal my heart and crush it at the same time.
This is what I knew. In fact, this was all I knew.
I know all about the emotional content and the thoughts and feelings that accompany the ideas of an impending doom.
I never looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself as a warrior. I never saw anything redeeming or beautiful.
No, I saw myself as ugly. I saw myself as someone who was war-torn and beaten, weary from battle, and always on guard because I was in fear of another attack – which would expose my weakness and leave me open for another round of humiliation.
I never looked in the mirror and saw beauty. No, it was clear for me to see my ugliness. It was easy to see my faults, no matter how small or hidden I’d try to have them to be. It was easy to see the difference between the shape of my eyes or the different shape of my ears and the somewhat, off-centeredness of my smile.
And no, maybe this is not what you would see when you looked at me; but to me, this is all I thought you’d see – my crooked features, my faults and flaws, my embarrassing and humiliating blemishes, and let’s not forget my so-called social, emotional and mental diseases – this is what I’d swear everyone saw when they looked at me.
I never assumed anyone would look at me and see strength. I never thought anyone would listen to a word I said nor thought that I am smart or helpful or worthy of something great.
This is what degraded my sanity.
Or better yet, this is what kept me crazy.
This is what kept me at arm’s length from anyone and everyone because in my best assumption for defense, I had to live, think, feel and act a certain way.
But no.
In fairness, I know that my mask was only a mask and my shield was only a shield.
I knew that, at best, I was the little boy who was beat up and picked on and too. I was that little boy who was betrayed and stained by a memory.
Or worse, I was a mark on someone’s badge of selfishness. I was someone’s victim.
I was someone’s trick and the punchline to someone’s joke.
So, if this was true to me, then I had to teach myself to respond.
I had to teach myself to be cold to the touch.
I had to train myself to accept pain and learn to embrace this as well as endure it. Yet, as I swelled with contempt and filled my lungs with rage and as I sought to avenge myself as well as protect myself, I chose to strike and become venomous.
To be clear, this is my brand of crazy.
This was my inability to see me as I am.
Or should I say this was my inability to see me as I really am, which is beautiful and deserving, because to me and in my best estimation, I was only lacking and lost to a set of ideas that tied me up in shackles and kept me a slave to myself.
See – I wasn’t supposed to be “this guy.”
No one pointed at me and said, “Do you see that guy over there? He’s going to be successful.”
No one picked me out of the group and said, “Where’ve ya been kid? We’ve been looking all over for someone like you!!”
Instead, I was picked out of a lineup.
I was picked to be locked up or taken away in handcuffs.
I was picked to be a failure; and what did I do with this? Rather than defy the predictions, I decided that if they predicted me to be a monster, then I would show them a monster. I would become someone who was more venomous and monstrous than any other monster or demon, including the devil himself.
Rather than say, “Hey, no. I have a trick to show you,” I surrendered to the predictions that anticipated my failure.
Rather than prove this wrong and silence the people who’s votes were against me, I proved them right with a vengeance.
I never realized that if I have the ability to hate this much, then I would also have the ability to love this much.
And I do love. I do care.
I do wish that I could take away the pain and depression and the anxiety of those who find themselves useless and powerless.
I wish I could make you laugh or love or forget long enough so that yesterday would no longer exist.
And yes, I agree.
People in my position can not only empathize and “feel” but at the same time, we would bleed and hurt, just to take away the pain from another person because, in our hearts, we know what it’s like to lose to our thinking – just like water loses to a drain, or like the mind loses to emotional quicksand.
I don’t really know what’s happening when I speak or do presentations. I don’t know what I’m saying or what I’m about to say next.
I laugh about this too because I have been hired to do three-hour lectures for an advanced psych course to which the professor asks, “Do you know what you’re going to say?”
And my answer is always the same –
No.
I think the one thing that I have is in spite of my craziness and regardless of my faults or flaws; I expose my weaknesses to dispel them like myths.
I show my weakness to gain strength. I cry. I show emotion.
And sometimes, I even drool and let the spit fly from my mouth while I tell a humbled or hard part of my story.
The only way I can explain this is when I am about to speak, I feel every fear and every bit of anxiety.
I let the child come out and say “Now it’s your turn to tell them anything you want to say.”
And I tell him, don’t worry. No one can hurt you. Not anymore.
Not with me around because so long as I am alive, no one will ever hurt you again.
Believe me.
I love what I do . . .
I used to have my programs in jails and homeless shelters. I would tell the guests when I had something up and coming.
Then I would see them after my presentation or after my commitment took place.
They would always laugh.
Then they’d ask, “Did you make’em cry?”
And they’d smile at me because they knew that regardless of who I see myself as, this was their way of telling me, “Hey kid, you’re beautiful too.”
I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know much about my beauty.
All I know is I’ve been working on my trick for a long time now.
And someday – I swear to you
I’m gonna pull this off –
and so long as this happens, I promise to share this with you.
The Written Addiction 