What Do You Know (You’re Just A Kid) Intro

This introduction is being entered today, February 2, 2024, and three days after I read the news.
So, with that being said, I am inspired to write the following:

What do you know?
How many times have you heard this question? Better yet, how many times did someone tell you this when you were a kid?
What do you know? You’re just a kid . . .
How many times have you asked someone this question?
What do you know?

I am sorry. But this needs to be discussed.
But more, this needs to be discussed now and more than we think.
What do you know?
I can say that questions like this cause a great divide between us as people. And yes, I can say this causes a great divide between us as a society.

There seems to be a great divide or a huge disconnect in the way we speak to each other. And when it comes to our kids or when it comes to being a kid; or when it comes to life and the way life happens or how we live or how we figure out the way to get from one day to the next; or when it comes to a more helpful term of communication, we have to learn to bridge the gap.
We have to find a way to pull us closer instead of saying things that spread us farther apart.

I am no more of a professional at being human than you or anyone else. I am what one would call a regular, everyday person. I am another man in this world. I am a traveler.
I am like you or anyone else.
Perhaps I am far too different from you. But at the same time, we both have a core. We have at least some commonalities. Yet, I am looking and searching and trying to understand and process my way through life. I suppose no one else is so different from that.
No one has the secret key.
We all have life to live. And some struggle more than others.
Or as my friend old friend Dangerous Dan the Marathon Man used to say when he introduced me to a crowd to speak, “Some are sicker than others – and this kid was definitely one of the some.”
Either way, I want my place in the circle. I want to find my place in the sun and when at all possible, I want to find peace. I want shelter. I want comfort. I want a place where I can find some shade and a place to lay my head or somewhere to call my own.
In addition to this, I want someone to call my own as well. (Like you)
I want love. I want a spot by a palm tree whenever I go on vacation.
I want to see my City from every angle and if allowed, I’d like the chance to go back to the beginning and to start over and do it again, just to see if anything changed or stayed the same.
But that’s me.
And this isn’t “just” about me.
This is about us.

I want to build and go and be and do. In fact, these are all the common themes of what I have been writing about for the last several years.
However, I have had the fortunate moments of speaking publicly and privately. I have met with people who are in personal crisis. I have spoken in jails, homeless shelters and drug rehabilitation facilities.
I have coached people who live from “The Park Bench to Park Avenue.”

I have spoken in colleges and in high schools. I have run wellness and mental health support programs in the higher levels of a corporate structure.
I have done these things to which there is one noticeable and amazing relationship between all of these different places.
It is true that while cultures were different and while ages ranged from youth to seniors, when it came to the core and to the matters of the heart and our mental fitness, there is a relatable stage to each and every one of us.

I believe there has to be some kind of common ground. While everyone has their right to be unique as an individual and as important as this right is to us all, we also have the right to be listened to – not just heard. We have the right to come to our own conclusions and more importantly, we have the right to come to our own understanding which cannot be done for us.
No one can do the math for someone else. If they do, then the math remains undone by the person who needs to understand how to add or subtract the most.

First, I would like to clarify my intentions and qualify myself as a person with an education. However, my education might not be traditional or perhaps my credentials might not be as noteworthy or as esteemed or the same as someone with an office that is decorated with different diplomas on the walls. However, I can say that I do have some professional credentials. As a seeker, I am learning to grow into this as a profession. I am looking to further my education in the mental health field so that I can better myself as a person and not just a professional.
At the same time, I am more interested in being educated by people. I am not looking to become a person in a lab coat. I don’t want to walk around with a clipboard. I don’t need the prestige of a title or anything like that. No.
As it was explained to me – I want to build bridges.
Not walls.

I suppose the education I am looking for is one that comes from different people. I want to hear from people who live with different challenges. I want to hear about their methods of recovery or if they have none, I want to know what drags them down. What makes them tick. What makes them stop or what prevents them from reaching out for help.

I have been fortunate enough to speak with different people from different backgrounds. I have been fortunate to find different opportunities to speak with people of all ages. I have spoken with people from different countries as well. I have spoken to kids who comes from wealthy homes and to children who lived in shelters.
I have had the opportunity to meet with people who come from tough upbringings and who made it from nothing to something.
I want to e clear about this – I love the underdog.
The underdog is my biggest hero
(next to you, of course).
I have sat in rooms with kids in middle school and listened to kids in high school. I have listened to their differences and to their discomforts and yes, I think the question has come up more than once.
What do you know?

I’ve had people ask me this.
I know that there are several times when I asked this question too.
I have listened to people who tried to tell me about “my life” or my problems and either I thought, or I said this out loud, but the question was always the same . . .
“What the hell do you know?”
What would anyone know about living in my skin?”

I have heard this question from my youth to my adulthood.
What does this question do?
Does this build connection?
Does this mend fences?
Perhaps not.
In fact, my experience has shown that all this question does is separate us.
I have seen how this keeps us from the possibility of finding a common ground.

By the way, it’s okay not to know.
It’s okay not to have an answer.
In fact, when it comes to someone’s crisis or their hardships or hard times, perhaps not knowing and listening to someone is better than telling them your opinion.

I remember my Father, The Old Man.
He used to tell me, “You’re just a kid.”
He would say this all the time.
I used to respond, “Yeah, well . . . you’re old. What do you know about being a kid anymore?”

I remember when people would tell me, “You’ll understand when you get older.”
Maybe this was true. In fact, I can say this was true on many occasions. However, at the time of my greatest disconnects or when I needed a caring voice and an understanding ear, being told, “You’re just a kid” or “You’ll understand when you get older” was not helpful.
I can say that as the result of an unofficial consensus, I can attest that countless interactions can confirm that the divide between people is real.
Stigma is real and so is our projection of self.

I have spoken with parents who tell me about their children. I have heard them explain how they hear what their kids will tell them. And they explain, “I’ve been there” or “I went through the exact same thing,” to which I argue –
No you have not.
Nothing is the same exact thing. Similar . . . maybe
But –
Times are different. Cultures are different and so are fashions.
Interpretations, assumptions, intentions and instincts are not the same and even down to time or locations, it is clear that there are so many differences which prove that things are not the same.
Similar . . . maybe.
While I agree in looking for the common similarities when discussing matters of the heart and soul, or when we are speaking with someone about their thoughts or feelings; I agree that finding a common ground is important. However, it is also inaccurate to assume that you know, see or feel the exact same way as someone else.

I heard a father tell me about his son.
He told me that he went through all of the same things.
He told his son that too.
He said, “I went through the same thing when I was your age.”
I asked, “How do you know you went through the same thing?”
“I been there and I done that!”
I asked, “Did your son think this is helpful when you told him this?”

I offered this suggestion –
You haven’t been where he was. And no, you didn’t go through what he went through.
Nothing about you is exactly the same.
Of course, the father argued with me.
I asked, “What music did you listen to when you were a kid?”
“I grew up on rock and roll!” the father said proudly.
“What kind of music does he listen to?”
The father smiled and shook his head. He laughed and partly in disbelief and with a slight distaste or disapproval for his son’s choice in music, the father remarked, “He likes rap music.”
I asked, “Do you like rap music?”
“No.”

I offered the first difference.
I told him, “you have different cultures.”
I asked, “Did dress the same when you were his age?”
The father shook his head.
“Not at all.”
I asked, “So then, would it be accurate to say that you both have a different sense of fashion?”
The father was hesitant to answer because he could see my point.
No one likes to be “wrong” per se.
He was seemingly defiant. He told me,
“You don’t even know my son.”
And I didn’t.
I explained that I never said I did . . .
My point was this – we say things that are separated between helpful and unhelpful.
I asked the father, “How helpful is it when you tell him this?”
“Or, do you think this bridges the gap between you and your son?”

The father explained, “No matter what I say, if I say black, he’s gonna say white or if I say red, he’s gonna say blue!”
My next question was this, “Did anyone ever tell you this when you were a kid?”
“All the time!”
I asked, “Did anyone ever tell you, ‘what do you know?’ and how you’re just a kid?”
“Of course,” the father remarked.
“Did you like it?”
“No,” said the father.
“But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t right!”
“So, which was more important, being right or allowing your son to be heard or understood?”

We use too many cancelation statements. I have seen this and while I can’t say that I have detailed notes from my conversation to compile a provable source of quantitative data, I can say that I have had conversations about this enough to qualify this as true.
We say things and perhaps we say them with good intentions to either steer or direct someone in a better direction. Or, maybe we say things as a projection of self. Either can be true.
But again, when it comes to someone’s life or how to live, or when it comes to someone’s mental health or finding a process of internal or mutual understanding, we have to learn to bridge the gap instead of building it to make it wider.

Years back, I was chosen by a local politician to speak at a public event. This event was held in a town park where anti-bullying movements and other drug-free organizations hosted a barbecue contest.
Please be advised that I do not go to these things for the politics nor do I go here for the food and the friends. No, this is all personal to me.
Hence, I agree that this has my shade of projection as well.
The turnout was decent. Yet, since this was a town who suffered a great loss due to several opiate overdoses and recent teenage suicides, the building in this somewhat small but decent sized community should have been bursting at the seams.

I asked the crowd this.
Shouldn’t there be more people here?
Where are the other parents or homeowners of this town?
I explained this is “OUR TOWN.”
“Where is everybody?”
I received an honest and supportive roar from the crowd.
I received an understating and a serious nod of agreement from the town’s mayor.
Next – I exploded.
I asked all of the young people to come close to me and asked all of the adults to move towards the back of the room.
I explained, “THIS IS YOUR TOWN TOO!”

Then I let it go . . .
I allowed myself to show my true side.
I exposed my scared self. I let the bullied kid come out and tell his story.
I let the boy come out.
This is the kid who saw himself as too awkward to play or too uncomfortable to have fun.
I let him show his face.
And the boy who used to stutter in class when he would read out loud – I let him out too.
I let the boy who was lost, the boy who was told, “what do you know? You’re just a kid,” come forward.
I let the kid who was humiliated by bullies come out.
I let the kid who was embarrassed by classmates and teachers come out.
I let the so-called sad junkie come out.
I let the scars shine.
I let my broken heart be seen.
But this was not about me.
No, this was only to empower an option that people can, will and do change.
And that yes, recovery is possible (of any kind)
And yes – no one has the right to dictate or determine our lives.
That’s our job.

I have been spending the last decade of my life trying to find a way to simplify all the various complications that people experience in life. I have been looking to build a commonality between us, despite any and all of our differences.

I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.
I remember a parent approached me with a sneer of contempt and disapproval.
“You made some of the kids cry!”
I said, “Good! Maybe I hit something.”
“Besides, I would rather cry here with these kids and let them know that they are amazing and capable then their parents have to cry over their dead bodies in the hospital!”

Telling a kid, don’t worry or “you’ll understand later,” or pretending like the elephant in the room isn’t real or that it doesn’t exist is not helpful by any means.
So, while I cannot say this will solve all the challenges that we have with communication nor can I say this will help everyone agree or come to a mutual understanding – still, I am offering this journal up to the universe. I am hoping to help find a way to bridge the gap between people.
I want to see parents find that broken connection and repair it with their kids.
And I want kids to know one thing –
You are far more valuable than you think and far more brilliant and knowing than you believe!

I am putting this out there for the forces or the higher powers to do with this as they choose. Should this find someone at a time when they need it most, or should something I say help at least one person, or maybe even two, then fine.
Let’s do it. Let’s see what happens.

This is my new project.
This is my next item up for accomplishment.

• To fill the gap and build a bridge between us.
• To help some kid who swears that no one understands.
• To help a parent.
• To help a friend.
• To help myself (and you as well).
• To build a better level of social awareness.
• To help provide a platform where people learn to listen to (and not just hear) what’s been said.
• And maybe, if at all possible, to save a life of someone who swears they are either misunderstood, unwanted, unloved, unimportant – and lastly, I want to thank the bravery of a father who I saw on television stood in front of the news camera to talk about his 14-year-old daughter’s suicide. She was bullied.

I saw this father.
He stood in front of the news camera to talk about his 14-year-old daughter’s suicide. She was bullied.
I was bullied too.
So, this part is to her.

Dear A.K.
I’m sorry.
I wish I knew you.
I wish I could have told you a few things.
But I can’t now.
Maybe – if you’re out there and if you can hear me, wherever you are and if you’re open to this, then please, maybe you can help me.
Guide this because I think there are other kids (like us) who could use a caring voice or an understanding ear. I think there are kids out there (like us) who could use something other than the misleading cruelties that we see around us which take away our beauty or leave us hurt
(or confused).

And to you, Mr. K.

Dear Sir,

Please accept this with all of my heart and with all of my humility and support.
While I cannot say this will hit all the marks and that everyone will agree or that this relates in part or in total to you or your child’s situation – I can say that this journal was inspired by you.

So again, with all of my heart, and as a grown man who was “that kid” who almost went the same way as your child, I thank you for standing up when no one else has the bravery to do so.
  
We have to build, not condemn or destroy.
We have to bridge the gap and mend our levels of communication.
This one is for you –

Adriana