A Day Called Way Back When

In all fairness to the question, I can assure that my answers will be honest.
At least here, where it’s safe for me to be me (with you).
Honestly, my answer is I don’t know how I survived my teenage life.

I don’t know how I made it through my early adulthood or how I moved beyond the younger men’s games. As I think about this, I am not sure why or when these games began or why we sign up for such things. Why do we give way?
I don’t know . . .

We give in and grab hold of thoughts that come with either pride-based and ego-driven ideas to hide the countless frailties that come with our insecurity.
But either way, I have learned that everyone plays a game or two.
We all have an agenda. Even if you don’t have a agenda, that’s still an agenda.

We all have this. An agenda. A drive.
A hope. An aspiration.
We all have fears too and worries and insecure adaptations to our life as we believe it to be.

Not just me. Not just you. Not just men or women.
Then again, I have to be careful when I say this.

I have to be mindful because my intention is to explain.
I have no desire to expose our differences. I want to see if I can find a special sameness between us all.
Therefore, the last thing I want to do is enter my story into and be drawn out by the confusion of identity politics.

I don’t know how or if my words translate to different generations. I am unsure whether the interpretation of what I say will match my intention.
So, for now, I will speak plainly. Let me go on without the need to flower my words or embellish my truth.

I am well aware that two people can see the same things and come to different and separate conclusions.

I understand all this too well. 
I understand that correlation and causation are not always the same. However, as different as we are and as separate as people may seem, I do believe that we all have a core.
I believe that we can all be relatable, even if we are all so different.

Tastes vary, opinions differ.
But we all have taste and a sensation that we choose to reward
(or satisfy).
Nothing is perfect and oftentimes, much of our thinking is not provably true.
Even perception can be fooled by biases or biased ideas and a biased mindset.

I understand that perception is not always true.
However, my perception is true to me. I get this.
And yes, our perception can take us from the mark or lead us astray.
Perhaps this is not always the case. You think?
Maybe the inaccuracy of perception can vary, person by person.
As I often mention, if it is up to me to correct myself both emotionally and cognitively, then it is up to me to be diligent. It is up to me to correct myself and allow me the option to grow and achieve a new level of awareness.
No one else can do this for me.
Not at all.

I do agree that our perception can be deceived.
In fact, I call this the deception of our perception. As such, I can say that I have both mastered and perfected the art of misperception.

However, and with this being mentioned as an upfront approach, my days called way back when can vary from mild to wild. My memory can be faulty or confused or misled by emotion.

I confirm that while I am guilty as charged and free from my hidden secrets and sins, I am free, as if to be released on my own recognizance. Therefore, I am responsible for my own restitution.

I submit to you, through the so-called courts and judgments, and for those who sit with the so-called righteous; I confess to what I did but who who I was, was never me, per se.

I know what I did.
I know what I went through.
I know the story of my life. And I think I have told you this before but perhaps I should say this again.

Looking back at my life and the life from long ago is like sitting through a foreign movie in a foreign language (sometimes) and the subtitles aren’t in English.
And me?
I find that I’m still playing catch-up in a game that’s been over and decided, long ago.

There were crazy moments.
I lived through both life-changing and life-ending events.
Perhaps it would be sufficient to say that some of these events only proved to be lifesaving. I might not have seen it then. But certain endings benefitted me in the long run.

At the same time, and after years of learning the means of personal detachment, I recognize that my actions matched a thought or feeling. I acted in ways that matched an assumption or an idea, or a source of discomfort. Thus, this was me in my reactionary state.

I was the closest to my truth when the moments were pure or the threats of anxiety were distant and gone. No fear was the best feeling I have ever experienced.
No fear that I will lose warmth.
No fear of hunger.
No fear that love will always evade me.

It is brave to move, or to go, be and do.

I have learned and spoken and taught about the details of rejective thinking.
I understand the weight of blame, shame, fault, guilt and regret.

I understand the anxious ideas of and how projecting the worst can lead to the expectation that my impending doom will pull its course.

I can understand losing the mind to a merciless expectation which is brought on by the deception of perception.

See?

Yes, I acted out of spite. I operated out of fear. I lived with the idea that I was built to live in the underbelly of the serpent and that I would be forced to pay my Karmic debt, in which case, what goes around comes around.
Yet, I was in the underbelly of the beast, or perhaps I should say the so-called beast.
Therefore, I would be fed like a peasant and left in the lower or under serving section of poor and the peasantry.

Was I reactionary?
Yes.
Was I mean?
Yes.
Was I violent?
Yes, and to add more color to this conviction, I learned to avenge my rage by creating a scene of violence without actually being violent.

I have physical insecurities. I have size envy. I have body envy. I am not short or small. I am not too big or frail. I am sizable enough to be seen. I am not ugly. I am not uncool.
I am not for everybody and, of course, I accept that we are all an acquired taste to some degree.

But I am that bullied child. I am that person who lived with the idea that I was never “enough” and that I would never be “enough.” This would always be true, of course, should I choose to continue or stay on this pattern of belief.

I say this now and openly. I say this proudly as well because while I have said and done things that I am not proud of, at least I am honest and own my side of mistakes.

I have to change, as in evolve, or to better myself, I have to improve and rebuild so that I can make my way to the next or the best plateau.

I have always been looking for peace. I have always been hoping that perhaps I might find the place where I belong. However, I can see that I belong here. I belong to this world, and I belong to this movement that we call life. No one has more of a right to be here. And I have no more (or less) right to be where I am.

Avoid the distraction of outside opinion.
Move. Go. Be. Do.
Live. Love. Laugh. Learn.

These are my eight branches of motivation.

My apologies stand for my wrongs.
My amends begin when I allow myself the right to move onwards to improve or achieve a better level of living.

Sure, I believe that life is cyclical.
I also believe that this means we should all pay attention.
So we learn . . .

The Heavenly Mother (if you choose to believe) or life itself is the greatest teacher of all.
You know how teachers do things, right?

If you do something wrong, they can make you stay after class, or punish you, or at minimum; if you do something wrong, teachers will make you start over and do it again — until you get it right.

This student is ready . . .
Heavenly Mother, Please allow my teacher to appear

(Gently)