If That Were True – Disturbing, You Say?

Safe to say that yes. I am a lucky man. It’s also safe to say that I am a blessed man. I’m fortunate to be where I am today. At the same time, I think it is safe to say that luck is often a self-made thing.
Of course, there are people who were born into a more fortunate gene pool whose genetics are more pronounced for a better or more beautiful physique.
Let’s not forget those who were born into financial comfort or the kids who come from the billionaire’s gene pool.

These people exist and, of course, one could say they are lucky and fortunate and it would be difficult to argue they were anything else, except for all the above.
However, I’ve said this before too. There are people who live the most gifted and wild or lavish lifestyle and even they succumb to misery.
There is such a thing as miserable millionaires. I know this because I’ve worked for a few.
I’ve met more than my share who can have anything they ask for and anything that money can buy and still struggle to find their own peace.

I am not lucky to be where I am. I am not lucky to be who I am either.
This is me. I’m not lucky to have my job or lucky that I have been able to reach the levels I’ve reached in the working world.
None of this came to me because I won a prize or played the numbers and hit the lotto.

I remember being told that I was lucky to be sober.
Luck did not get me through my most challenging times.
I was told that I was lucky to have made changes in my life at a young age.
And, I agree this is a tough thing to do.
It’s not easy to live a clean life at a young age especially when our culture is focused on alcohol, drug use, and let’s not forget the inaccurate or glorified bullshit that comes with the so-called gangster culture.
Was I lucky?
Am I lucky to be alive?
Of course I am.
But who isn’t?

Am I lucky for my successes?
I’m not sure that luck had anything to do with this.
I’m not even sure that I am so successful.

Of course, fate has its hands in everything. And destiny too.
But anything I have or anything I’ve earned was not given to me. If it were given to me, I still have to work to keep what I have. I still have to maintain what I own. Nothing shines without care – not even a diamond.

Am I lucky to be away from certain people, places and things?
Am I fortunate?
Am I lucky that I have a job with a position and a leadership title?
The fact is I’ve had to work for this.

I am not lucky to be who I am. I am not lucky because I found a different path.
I am fortunate, yes.
But lucky . . .
I’m not so sure about luck.
I am fortunate that I had the wherewithal or that I opened my eyes to see things a bit more clearly. I agree. Some people never do this.
Some people never come to their own beneficial self-realization.
But I’m not sure this makes them unlucky. Unfortunate, maybe. But again, luck has nothing to do with this.

Am I lucky to have good people in my life?
Absolutely. But then again, luck does not keep people in your life.
I am fortunate, of course.
However, good people do not stay if we are not good in return.
So, once again I say that life is reciprocal. 

I’m blessed that I had the wherewithal to notice the opportunities that came my way. At the same time, anything that came my way required the efforts of my attention. Therefore, anything of mine that is worthy is not something that comes free or easy.

I was told that I was lucky to get away from the old crowd of my youth. I was told that I was lucky to “get out of that life,” or so they say. People tell me that I am lucky because so many others have failed to make it out alive.
And sure, I have a past. 
I have a history. I have a few black marks and some stains that seemed to have followed me around.

As a matter of fact, I remember when I created one of my biggest and most successful programs.
This is one of my proudest creations which, up to this date, this program is my biggest success in the wellness business.
I was well-received and honored with an overwhelming flow of positive feedback. I must add to which, of course, the saying is absolutely true. You can’t please everyone.
Not everyone will be on board and there will always be someone who thumbs their nose at you or looks to break you down.

There was a person who shared their thoughts about me in their interoffice survey. This person stated that I am unprofessional at best and that my background is “Disturbing.”
Disturbing.
Now there is a hurtful comment.

I remember reading this. I remember the person who wrote this – and this was mean.
Sure it was and this was intended to be a low-blow of a move.
For what?

The fact is I do have a history.
Name someone who doesn’t?
I do have a background.

Or maybe like the record says, I do have a checkered past. Then again, so do most people.
No one can honestly withstand the lights of their own interrogations and certainly with the exception of a rare or few, everyone has their own secrets. As The Book says, “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” and by this, The Book means to be judged by your own standards. That’s a test that most people fail.
Most people fail their own criticisms. But don’t worry . . .
they are always willing and more than comfortable to point out the flaws in others.

I admit it. I have a past. I also admit that I have a background which does not make me out to be the nice guy that I truly am.

To be clear, this is not to say that I was not a nice guy when I was younger, or bad, so-to-speak. However, there was a time when my anger got the best of me. My depression took over.
I was sad.
I was always intimidated. I was afraid of my own shadow which, of course, is one of the reasons why I carried a blade or a knife or a weapon of some sort.
By the way, weapons can give a person an advantage.
But weapons do not make a person strong. (Or tough)
I had to learn this the hard way . . .

I suppose, at best, I was only trying to pretend. I was trying to protect myself. Sure, I can see why people do things like carry a knife or a gun or a weapon of some kind.
I get it –
I was intimidated too.

I was afraid. And yes, if I am to be honest, I was most afraid when I was armed or carried a concealed weapon.
I was always afraid . . .
But for the record, there are many kinds of weapons and none of them cut as sharply as a slanderous word.
On some occasions, and without any legal admission of any kind, I know that as brave as I acted and as tough as I tried to be – I was more cowardly than a mouse.
Or worse, I was sly, like a tunnel rat.
At the same time, I was weak.
I was absolutely powerless in comparison to those who sat higher on the food chain. 

I know all about insecurities. I know all about fear. I know about living according to a personal or an ongoing intimidation that relentlessly hovers above us. I know about the hate speech from within, also known as the unfairness of an internal whisper of self-doubt and the inferior worries which do nothing else but keep us stuck.

Have I seen terrible things?
Sure, I have.
I have witnessed violence, up close and personal. I have seen hate at its worst or in its most outrageous state.
I have seen bloody things and violent things, which does nothing for me.
This does not add to my strengths or build my character.

However, we live in a world where it is unsafe to be honest. We live in a world where it is unsafe to be human.
You can’t be honest about having a challenge or a mental health crisis.
Can you?
Because if you can and if it were true that people could be honest about their thoughts, or their doubts and fears; or if it were true that people could step forward and seek help without judgment when facing hardships or a personal crisis or mental illness, then the statistics which prove that more than 50% of people who live with a mental health challenge in silence and alone would not exist.

Have I seen the absence of humanity?
Absolutely.
I have seen what people look like when removed from their own remorse. 

I have met bad or mean and cruel people.
Yes I have.
I have seen enough of them to say that this is a very cruel world at times.
People are capable of unthinkable things.
Cruel things. And sick things too.

Then again, I have also seen people get more than they bargained for. I’ve seen the so-called tough guy.
I’ve run into people who pretended to be unafraid – until the cell door closed behind them
as if to say, “”BOOM!
And next comes a sound that is unforgettable. This is the sound of a barred door as it rolls shut and clicks into place. There is an unforgettable smell here.
I have heard people in holding cells whimpering and sobbing, or crying for their mothers because as tough as they were, they knew that talk is cheap.

I have witnessed the so-called tough guy as a group of much younger men beat him into submission.
They kicked him around, just because of a fluffed-up chest.
The younger group made this man weep and beg for them to stop. Meanwhile, his abusers laughed at him as he laid on the floor, curled up, bleeding and wishing he was bigger or tougher or stronger.
Better yet, I suppose it would be safe to say this man was wishing he was able to fill the role; safe to say he wished he could be the person he pretended to be which, in fairness, it’s one thing to act tough – it’s another thing to be tough.
This can be a painful lesson.

I saw this person brag and stand tall and talk about how tough he was. And then he was beaten.
For some people, this man stood on the tracks where the train was coming through.
He was humbled quickly.
He acted like he was tough when in all fairness – he was soft, like butter.
He was weak like a wet paper bag, unable to hold anything.

Is that tough?
I don’t think so.

I have seen people after the judge delivered their sentence. I have watched as their posture turned weak or submissive – as if they were reduced to a child, or an infant, or smaller than the rest of the world and vulnerable, like prey amongst a pack of beasts or wild and hungry wolves. 

I have seen when people left the courtroom and walked back into the holding cells.
This is where the real fun begins.
This is where the beasts live and where others wait to go off to the county jail
(So they can lay down).

Is this disturbing?
Maybe.
It should be frightening.
This should be raw and unkind.
But to be clear, I have seen more crookedness in boardrooms and in the higher ends of Corporate America than in jail cells or in drug rehabs or homeless shelters. 

Does this make “me” disturbing?

I don’t think so.
I think the disturbing features of our world is that it is unsafe to be honest or human.
I think it is disturbing that more than half of the people who live with an emotional crisis will never reach out to seek help.

I am part of a plan, at least this is how I see it.
There are people in my life who came around in the later years. Or, they came to me in more recent years and I say this without any doubts –
Where have you been all of my life?

I’d like you to know something
People can promote one of two things in us –
They either promote peace
or they promote unrest.

Like you . . 
I didn’t have you when I was growing up.
You promote peace
I didn’t have people (like you) who dared and cared enough to show me that I am worthy of so much more.
I never had you (yes . . . YOU!) to show me that I am not only lovable, but I am also able and capable of anything.

Am I disturbing?
No.
I’m honest.
I see people walk around or puff their chest.
I see countless people who are fake and pretend to be bigger or stronger or unafraid.
I used to pretend all the time.
The only problem is I’m not big or strong or unafraid.
There was no peace for me this way.

I want love.
I want a walk through the park and to feed a few squirrels.
I want to dance.
I want a night beneath the moon, like someplace near Collins or on the beach where Miami is kind to me.

I want peace.
That’s all . . .
Really, I swear.

Now tell me:
Am I disturbing now?
I don’t think so.