Finding My Euphoria – A Note to the Kid

We are not the young soldiers retreating from a war that never existed. No, that part of us is over. However, there are times when the mercury rises and the pulse moves too quickly.
I can see how this changes us or causes concern.
There are times when the weight moves in, and the chest is too heavy to breathe.
I knew you. But then again, I have always known you, young and confused, wild and eager to prove that fear is not real, and that outrage can be interchangeable with intimidation. And so, we did what we could to get by and survive the social tactics of the world around us.

I do not regard the old days as much as I used to. Then again, I do this because I have grown to understand the difference between the way I was and the disguises we wore.
I have been asked if it gets easier as we grow up.
I answered, life you mean?
And I hit the nail on the head.

Life changes, of course it does. But it would be dishonest to say the competition stops. I could say the game changes and so do the rules, which tend to be less fair than when we were just kids in the sandbox.
It would be inaccurate to say that life does not come with competition and it would be even less accurate to say that people will be fair or play by the rules.
No, this is not the case. And yes, there will always be bullies. There will always be that asshole on the playground who looks to point out the flaws and exploit the weak.
There will always be someone who looks to snatch and grab and there will always be someone out there, looking for the weak or the vulnerable. This is true. It is also true when people say that nice guys finish last. But the race is a lie and, to be honest, I’m not sure of or where the finish line is.

Does life get easier as we get older?
I’m not sure.
I think the pressures change and so will our intentions.
I know the games we play change and, as a result, I can say that my tolerance has changed. Then again, I’m not so sure that I am tolerant, least of all for the bullshit that we see.
I am not one to say whether life will be easier or not. I can say that we learn to find ways around our fears. Or maybe we learn to find ways to avoid them. Maybe we stuff them away and pretend that they are not real. But they are real, at least they are to me.
However, and in all fairness to your question, it has taken me a lifetime to open up like this. It has taken me more than 50 years to get where I am, or to expose myself this way. And I have to.
No really, I have to.
I have to stop hiding, as if to remove the mask, and throw away the disguises which I have used for most of my life. Only now, I am trying not to hide anymore because how will I ever be brave if all I do is run from the truth?

I remember back when I first learned about this thing, we call recovery. I was told what this means to recover or to get back to a better place before the world became unmanageable for me.
I was told that I will always be this way, an addict, or an alcoholic, and that if I choose this life, or if I choose to stay clean or “kick,” then I will have to be diligent at every turn.
I was told about rigorous honesty, which I am neither rigorous nor honest all the time.
Not everything is bullshit. Not everything is a lie, but when I am here and when I am here with you; I need to keep this on the level.
I need to keep this as true to the word as possible because without this (or you) then I will have nothing. If I have nothing then I can easily lose myself to the wild insanities that take place when the soul becomes desperate.
And we both know what it means to be desperate.
Don’t we?

I remember when I was told that no one among us has ever been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence.
Of course not.
I was told that I have to “give it away to keep it.”
At the same time, I never assumed that I had anything worthy to give away. If I did have something worthy, I was too afraid to give it away because what do I do if I never have something worthy again?

I was told that I am as sick as my secrets.
I was told that I had to find God or at least, I had to find a God as I understand him. I understood this but my problem was that God and I were not on speaking terms, at least not on good terms.
I was too unsure if there was such a thing. God, I mean, and if there was, then why?
Why would people do what they do?
Why would we suffer?
Why would Hell on Earth be more prominent than the goodness of charity or the wealth of hope?
I was told that I have to learn to live an honest life.
This was unthinkable to me because, in all honesty, I was never honest before.

My life was a lie. I lied and I cheated, and I stole because in my eyes, I was too weak, too stupid, or so I was told, and I was too little to do anything about the lopsided unfairness which I chose to see as everyday life.
I was too puny or as it was made clear to me the first night I spent in the holding cell; I was too light to fight and too thin to win. All I could do was hope the judge was lenient enough to let me go on my own recognizance, which he did, until I was remanded someplace else.
I was afraid. All I knew was fear.
And more, all I knew about myself was based on an inaccurate view of who I saw when I looked in the mirror. In all fairness; I hated myself. I hated my imperfections which were blatant and obvious to me. I hated the shape of my eyes and my ears. I hated my teeth and the crookedness of my grin. I hated the sound of my life. I hated the look of my body and I hated the idea that I was weak, or at least, weaker than everybody else. Hence, this is life in the reflection of traumatic views. This is what happens when the external world imposes or molests the purity of a child. Or, this is what happens when bullies have their way or when a kid is never defended or redeemed.

I never saw my strengths or attributes. And people will say, yeah, but this happened so long ago.
And I will answer, yes. Of course.
But where do our earliest lessons come from and how does out childhood affect our future?
I am a proponent for therapy and improvement. I am one who heartily believes that we all have to confront our fears. Everyone has to learn to question their past and address their history to prevent traumas from leaking forward or burying us alive before we have the chance to live.

I never saw much of anything when looking at myself except, of course, a small, weak and puny young soul who couldn’t get ahead. I swore that I was stupid — and I swore this.
Why wouldn’t I believe this way?
I lived in a surrounding world of unspoken chaos, secret pains, and I encountered bullies, insecurity, and this has yet to mention the unaddressed cases of learning disabilities, anxiety, depression, and all the while I had to try and put on a brave face or a fake smile.
Life is not easy.
No matter how old we are.

I am one of the lucky ones, or so I am told.
And yes, I am lucky.
I am lucky that I am not on the other side of the loss column. I am lucky that I had the chance to be removed from my environment.
I can say that I got off light or that I deserve more of a punishment, and who knows?
Maybe my debt is far from clear.
Maybe destiny has a collection agency too and fate is waiting on a corner with an eviction notice or another kind.
I am lucky that I found this path at a young age.
I am lucky that I did not have to suffer as much as some of my other friends.
At the same time, there is nothing lucky about trauma. There was nothing lucky about losing my Father at a young age. And there was nothing lucky about the irremovable memories and the injustice which comes after a betrayal of an inappropriate touch — more than once.

We all grow from something.
Don’t we?
We all come from somewhere.
We all have something in the background which leads us to have a fear that one day, the truth will come out and the entire world will see us, or see how weak we truly are.
Whether fault or blame is directed at us or elsewhere, the feelings and fears of vulnerability and weakness can lead us to irrational ideas and to do crazy or irrational things. In our best defense, these are the thoughts that caused us to create an image — and, fake or not, at least we can find a semblance of protection and feel safe.

I was never tough. And I’m not sure if I ever wanted to be tough or needed to be.
I know that I never wanted to be weak or abused.
I never wanted to be the punchline or the brunt of somebody’s joke.
I never wanted to be the kid who was picked on and I never wanted to be beaten. I never asked to be picked last when choosing teams and I never wanted to be laughed at.
But I was.
I never asked to be on the short bus, which picked me up in front of my house, and of course; this came with a stigma of its own, which I learned to use and played this off as if I were too crazy or too unruly for regular classrooms.
By the way, it came to a point where I didn’t even know what grade I was in. Last I recalled, I was in ninth grade for a while. I remember this because this issue was addressed when the courts remanded me to long-term treatment and they asked me what grade I was in.
I told them, “I don’t know,” and they assumed I was being belligerent.
But . . .
I never wanted to be stupid.
I didn’t want to stutter when I read out loud in front of the classroom.
I never had much of a physique, and I never asked myself to lose or give other people priority because I lived in the comparison of them and me.
I have openly discussed this in classrooms with young adults, or teenagers, as they’re called. I have heard their responses, somewhat blown away and somewhat relieved because, above all, finally, someone dared to tell the truth about insecurity and how this destroys us from within.

I never wanted to be ugly or somebody’s consolation prize or second-best. I never asked to be the unwanted one. And I never asked to be an extra friend who tagged along, like a third wheel, and I never wanted to not be included. And so, to keep from this, I tried so hard to include myself, but this resulted in me never experiencing the joy of being invited.
And, of course, I always included myself.
I was too afraid to be unincluded.
I never wanted this and I certainly never asked to think this way.
Not at all.
Nobody asks for these roles yet, we play them. And we play them well.
We subscribe to the different levels of status and the distribution of popularity.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I needed to be popular either.
No, I think that I just wanted to be happy.
I say this all the time, but I always wonder what my life would be like now if I had you back then.
Do you understand what I mean when I say this?

I have been asked if this gets easier, to which I answer, life you mean?
In fairness, nothing is easy.
This is not always to say that everything is hard or difficult.
There is a mix.
We need to address the losses but more, we need to advance on our gains and learn to turn steps into success. We need to build from this, one day at a time, without looking back and without apology.

Take this journal, for example.
I have been coming here for years. I have been trying to find ways to remove myself from my old demons and I have been trying to unravel the knots that have tied me up.
I come here to remove the narrative that took me decades to address, and now, to add purpose and to provide color, I have been coming here to remove the lies and toxins, which either poisoned me, or poisoned my thinking.
This is what took me to the point where I became aware that my thoughts were either diseased or demented. I had to face this and realize that my thoughts and all of my fears were amplified to an irrational takeover.
Not every fear is real.
But they were all real to us.
Weren’t they?

I come here to stop this.
But mainly, I come here because of you.
See?
I never really had you before.
I never had a true friend like this. I never had love. I never had a place where I was safe to be me or someone who would play fair.
I never had someone who would be honest or keep my secrets safe, as if this were as important as the air we breathe or the food we share.
I have built this room for us.
This is our place.
I built this place of mine, which is my special workshop that I have been telling you about.
However, as for the question, “does this get any easier?”
I can answer that life changes and so do we.
But yes, I do see how we regard our past.
I see how we regard the intrusions and past insults.
I understand why we remember the pain that comes when we move to a moment of realization and thus, we find ourselves at a new level of awareness.
I know what it’s like when the light turns on and we realize, “holy shit, I just got played for a fool!”

No one talks about this.
At least, not really. No one ever dares to expose their weaknesses because they fear that someone out there will catch wind of this, and, in turn, they will use this as a weapon, which in my case, this would destroy me.
Easily . . .

Does this get easier?
I find the answer is longer than short.

Some days, the sky is blue, and the sun is bright. And some days the winds are gentle, and the temperature is kind.
Other days are not as friendly.
The same can be said about people, or friends, or even family.

Some people will enter your life and change you for the better. Some will come and leave an impact. Some will come and alter you from your true self. Some will help you rebuild your life and unfortunately, there will be people who come along and ruin you, completely.
But before we go on, just know that no one can kill you forever.

I have had the benefit of meeting with people whom I never knew, never saw before, and there are times when I have met with people who I never saw again; and still, they left a mark of inspiration.
I suppose this is what leads me to my answer.
Life can get better, or worse, depending upon us and what we do or how we respond.

Therefore, I need to find inspiration. I need to look for goodness over the biased assumptions that people are inherently bad or sick, or out for themselves.
This is not always the case. But yes, there is a choice we have to make as far as who we let in our lives, or who we need to stay away from.

I swear that everyone has an agenda, which is not always a bad thing.
I have an agenda too, and depending upon the state of my mental health, my agenda can be mutually beneficial, or selfish, and self-centered.

I hear people talk about paranoia. I hear people say, “you’re just being paranoid”, and I wonder if they know the difference between paranoia and depression.
I wonder this because although they appear similar, there is a difference between the two.
Trust me!
I wasn’t paranoid. No, I was lost in the assumption of a worthless idea that this is me.
Everything was all my fault. I am wrong.
Always.

But why say this?
Why reveal this to you?
I can tell you why.
I expose this to lose the weight on my chest—so I can breathe.

I reveal this because my thinking and biases have led us astray.
I expose this because the relationship I have with my past and the old arguments, or the former intrusion, and my memories of the old, moral injuries, and I fess to this because this has destroyed opportunities and kept me stuck.
This is the mindset of diseased thinking.
Either we learn to free ourselves, or we accept that we will always be imprisoned.
There is no other option.

I need to be clear that I am no better than the worst person I’ve ever met.
I have sinned. I have broken trust. I have hurt people and at times, there are days when I struggle to look in the mirror.
There are days when I cannot face or see my own reflection.
There are times when I am afraid to face the truth.
And there are times when I try to outrun myself, but as per the suggestion I was told when I entered my first rehabilitation facility: wherever you go, there you are.
So, you can always run (until you can’t anymore) but there is no place to hide.

Does it get easier?
Sure. The more I step away from my old thinking, or the more that I report in these journals, and the more I expose the truth, the less the weight is on my chest — so I can breathe.

I am no better. I do not claim to be mightier than anyone else. As far as I am concerned, the last person who walked on water, died a long time ago — and since I wasn’t around to see it, I don’t know that anyone can walk on water.
No one can claim to be so pure, and when we talk about sin or when we refer to the accusation of sin, I recall the scripture, which says “He among you who is without sin, let him be the one to cast the first stone,” and since no one among us is able to maintain anything like perfect adherence, I know that I am no better or worse than most. I know that I can’t cast the first stone, or the second, or even the third.

I am me.
I don’t mind being sober.
In fact, I don’t really think about this as sober living.
I just see this as me.
I don’t think about the needs or the old highs as much.
I don’t think about getting high, at least not for more than a quick second.

If anything, I mind the absence of numbness. I can say that I would love to find a great escape.
And I know the rules and I know the game, which hasn’t changed much.
I used to want to live in the absence of pain.
And I can’t.
But at least I do not live in the absence of truth.

I am aware of who I am. I am aware of why I was who I was. I am aware of the need to feel better or to protect myself and yes, I am aware of the reasons why I wore a mask or tried to pretend like I was someone else.

There are times when the mind connects to an old adjustment or an old memory of betrayal. And I am reminded of old hurt and humiliation.
As for me, that kid is still alive.
I try to keep him alive, and although small, he is still yearning to have a best friend or someone to play with.

I talk to him sometimes.
And I tell him not to worry.
I say, I know all about you. I know about your dreams and the reasons why you’re shy or why you’re afraid.
I tell him not to worry. I’m right here.
We can still play together.
And sometimes, I let the boy come out. Sometimes I let him yell and scream and get the weight off his chest.
I tell him that it’s good to tell me how you feel.
I need to know.
We don’t have to tell anyone else and this can be between us.
Don’t worry, kid.
I won’t tell a soul.

And kid, just so you know—
One day, you will see what you have inspired.
Someday, your dreams will come true and trust me, you can come out now.
It’s safe.
All of the old bullies are gone.
No one is ever going to touch you or hurt you like that again. Besides, I have been working out and training on better ways to protect us both.

Just be you, kid.
And the rest will work itself out.
I promise.

I have to go to work now.
There’s a dream that you and I need to achieve.
But don’t worry because I will be back later.
And we can play or do anything you want.

“Do you promise?”
You have my word.
“Do you think she will like me?
Who?
“You know who . . . the love of your life.”
If anything, I think you would be the reason why she would love me.

Rest up now, son.
You and I have a life to change, okay?

“Okay. As long as you promise.”

I do, kid.
Cross my heart!