I suppose my reason for this entry today is because I don’t like what I see. I don’t like to hear the news about some kid who went missing or who found themselves alone or misunderstood. I don’t say this as if I am more special or understand anyone at some kind of ultimate level. I am not a guru nor do I claim to or want to be.
No, I’m simply a person who would like to see changes in the way we think. I’d like to see us update the way we treat each other. Moreover, I am a person who would like to see a new dynamic when it comes to the way we approach one another.
I am someone who believes that we need to improve our systems when it comes to the way we deal with our mental health or emotional challenges.
I have seen and heard enough and yes, I have been privy to act as a witness or to see what happens when someone goes ignored or unheard. Sadly, I have been there in hospital rooms when parents had to say goodbye to their child after an overdose or a death by their own hand.
I want this to stop. And I know . . .
I get it. This is more than just an uphill battle.
This is more than us against them and more than a drug or alcohol problem.
I question the statement which declares that it takes a village to raise a child because, to me, I have to ask, where are the villagers?
I have been to town halls and community events and spoken in front of a lightly-filled room and to parents who lost their child or don’t like what they see in their community.
I have listened to people as they pointed fingers and appointed their blame on the police or the school system. Then, in the end, I have listened to parents who swore, “not my child” or “not in my backyard,” and regretfully too late, they wished they had listened differently or paid attention somehow – or saw what was coming so they could stop the momentum, and save their kid’s life.
I am not someone who believes that I know better or that my way is right and other ways are wrong.
I do not consider myself as a person who came along to have built a better mousetrap.
No.
I do not believe in one-size-fits-all treatments and more so, I believe in the personal right to be treated as an individual. I believe that each person should be treated as their own unique self. Perhaps if we work with people on an individual level, rather than throwing some kind of blanket statement, take two and call me in the morning, or rather than use a one-size-fits-all mindset, perhaps we can save more lives and open the eyes of an emotional blindness that has been killing our kids for decades.
I offer this as a person who cannot say what happiness looks like to you or to anyone else.
I offer this because I am someone who had to fight and struggle to find this out for myself.
What does that mean?
This means that I don’t know what works for other people. However, I did learn what works for me, which has been helpful to others.
I don’t know what it’s like when it comes to say, dieting in someone else’s body, nor can I assume what it’s like to overcome to someone else.
Or when finding our way out of the pits of despair – and I mean this, especially when it comes to depression or depressive thinking, suicidal ideation, or anxiety, anticipatory anxiety, trauma, or post-traumatic stress disorders or, of course, the list could go on, but I say this again, I know what these things mean to me. But not to anyone else.
I know anxiety on a first name basis.
I know depression as well – we have lunch together, nearly every day.
I don’t know what someone else went through in their life. Even if they told me, I only understand this from the angle of my own interpretation.
I can’t say or know or understand what trauma looks like through another person’s eyes, nor do I understand the history behind another person’s trauma.
I don’t know what someone’s trauma bond is or how someone else may bond with their perpetrator or, if otherwise, and speaking from an emotional perspective, I don’t know what kills people, causes them to run away, or what it is that pushes someone and allows them to keep going for just another day.
However, I do understand that no one is the same. I understand that interpretation is something that occurs on an individual level.
We are all unique in our own way. And that’s perfect.
We are all our own person. Yes, this is both obvious and true. While there are similarities between us, there are also differences between us all.
But this is fine. No, really.
It is. . .
The sooner we allow this and accept that we are not the same, the better we can learn how to communicate with each other.
It is unfair to hear about someone who is young and never had the chance to live their life, and due to some outside circumstance or as a result of some unfortunate issue, whether this is the degrading idea that there is something wrong with them for being as they are – or who they are – and whether this is due to some kind of social construct or the different levels of popularity which led them to believe that they will forever be an outcast or some kind of burden; it is sad and unfortunate to learn about another young person who lost their life to an avoidable death or to a death which came to them by their own hand.
This hurts me.
Literally.
This hurts me.
I am tired of hearing the news about another young person who overdosed. I am tired of learning about another story of a child who found themselves to be so unworthy and seemingly picked on or brutalized by the so-called “cool kids” or rejected by the other kids in the crowd that they saw no other way to redeem themselves, so in the end, they decided to end this by taking their own life.
It hurts me. Yes.
This literally hurts me to hear about another youth who had their childhood stolen or that they never had a chance to find themselves or to learn about what they love or to learn about their passions because they either found themselves in an unwinnable situation, or their personal challenges seemed too heavy and misunderstood to be supported.
The worst of all bullies are the bullies in the mind. Yet, I hear parents tell their children how, “You’re just a kid. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
I can appreciate the comment and I can understand the direction of this; however, when you’re in pain or when your mind is in crisis-mode, or when you are hurting and thinking about ending it all because you can’t take another step – in fairness, the idea of an entire life ahead of me was not all too enticing for me. No, this was more of an intimidation because, again, I swore that I was going to be depressed and sad forever. While intellectually, I understand that forever is a very long time, emotionally, the term forever meant that I was always going to be this sad or desperate –
forever.
Instead, and while I know the difference between the glass being half-full or half-empty, I would like to offer an observation: tell this to a kid who is at the end of their rope – or tell this to a kid when they’re hurting. Tell someone who is brokenhearted or finds themselves stuck in the battles with shame, blame, guilt, fault or regret.
See what happens. Better yet, ask them what they think or how they feel.
Ask them how they think or feel.
Do this without projection of your thoughts or opinions.
Let them tell you . . .
I do not, cannot, and will never minimize someone’s stress or challenges. Even if they seem small or insignificant or unimportant and downright inaccurate, the truth is a person is in crisis when they believe they’re in crisis.
Telling someone they’re not is not always going to be helpful.
No . . .
This is a time for listening. Not directing.
This is a time for understanding. This is a great time to learn a skill called motivational interviewing.
Should the conversation arise and should a child find themselves comfortable enough to trust you or speak with you and sit down with this conversation — then understand the focus of this talk is not about YOU.
This is not about how YOU see things nor is this about what YOU went through or how YOU have been there too or done that.
No – and to be clear, this can be misinterpreted. Rather than the intended means, which is to bring comfort or to simplify the problem, this can be seen as something that will minimize what someone else is going through.
My offer is this:
Learn how to listen because (and I mean this with all my heart) the life you save could be a child of your own.
I understand why parents look to direct or redirect their children. And I get it – no parent wants to see their child suffer or hurt or be so challenged that they can’t move or breathe.
No parent wants to see their child be caught in the webs of depression nor does any parent want to hear their child scream or panic because of an anxiety attack – and certainly and above all else, no parent wants to receive that phone call or that knock on their door to advise them how their child was hurt, overdosed, or how their child tried to kill themselves or how their kid is in the hospital or worse, no one wants to hear the words, “We regret to inform you.”
Of course we want to protect our children.
Every parent wants to save their kids from the pains and the stresses of life, but life is unavoidable. I’m sorry to say this but life does not come with bubble-wrapped edges. We all fall. We all get our share of scrapes, cuts, scratches, and bumps or bruises.
There is no protecting anyone from life. However, there is the ability of harm reduction. There is an outlet. While this will not save every kid from ever falling or being hurt or worse – at least we can remove the excuse from the child who believes that no one cares or that no one understands or that no one will listen to them.
I remember seeing kids in the cancer ward. This was both a great and terrible day for me.
I was there to support a young 13 year-old with stage four, Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
I was there for her first treatment and as fate would have it, I was blessed to be included and invited to witness her last treatment when she was CANCER FREE!
I was waiting out in the playroom where the kids were allowed to dress up or play any games they chose.
And me . . .
I played with them.
I ran around. I made them laugh.
I gave them my all and when it was time for me to leave, I entered the elevator and when the doors closed and one of the nurses who stood beside me told me “You did a great thing,” I cried harder than ever before.
No kid deserves this.
No kid should lose their childhood.
And aside from depression and the bullies in our mind, there are no bullies worse than cancer.
I swear to this.
In fact: Fuck you, cancer!
I am a small man, weak and humble.
I am nothing more than a tiny grain of sand which makes up the hourglass of time yet I had the opportunity and the blessed privilege to see the best of the world.
I was gifted to know that no – the best in this world are not seated in boardrooms or in big offices with nice windows or a special parking spot or people who sit behind a door in an office with their names on their desk.
No –
The best we have in this world are the kids –
All of them. Each and every one of them.
I learned more from children than I did in any classrooms.
I learned more about how valuable life is and how precious we are. This is not because of some eye-opening moment in the hospital or because I witnessed a time of endearment where I saw two elderly people, like a couple on a park bench, who lived their entire life together and in love. While I found both sights to be inspirational and while I saw the elderly couple, still in love, and noted them down as beautiful and how I hope for that to be me someday; the point is that I see our children. I see our community. I see their future and want them to live well and to grow old too.
And you . . .
Yes you, the young girl who was bullied and then found this posted on social media.
I’d like you to know something, wherever you are,
You might not know this, but . . .
Perhaps you believed in the misconception that you were a burden or not worth a better life – or whatever it was that you thought or felt in your heart and I can’t claim to say that I understand or know what it was; but for the record, you have made a difference.
I want you to know this because this would have meant something to me to know that my life meant something, which is why I would like you to know what happened after you left.
I want you to know that you inspired others to speak out.
I just wish you were here in the flesh to see what took place and hear what kids are saying about you – that you are a good person (not were a good person) and how your struggle saved someone else’s life, even if it cost you your own –
I’d like you to know that because of you, someone else found the courage to reach out and stand up on their own two feet and ask for help.
There are all kinds of bullies out there.
I know that I’ve met a few. But those are my bullies.
There are countless people in this world and all of them have bullies of their own.
I get that.
I suppose you do too.
I suppose what I’d like to do is find some way to stop this – or take the bullies down or out of the equation.
Maybe we can get rid of them, one bully at a time.
Like I said, and wherever you are now – if you’re not too busy,
I could sure use a hand with this.
Do you think you can help me?
I might not be worthy
But I’d really like to try.
If you can
Please . . .
The Written Addiction 