By Joseph Anthony
These Blogs are “my truths!” I stake no logistical claims, nor research to support my opinions and experiences.
Everybody (and I mean everybody) has a story! Each, more heart-wrenching/heartwarming than the next. Each, subject to judgment, ridicule, and comparison. It can become, quite the pissing contest! We love to tell them — eventually, if hope lies somewhere in you, begin to detest repeating them. They can be the weight that bears us down or the springboard that propels us forward. We can spend months, years, an eternity, deciphering whether they were signs of our demise or enlightenment. They conjure up the pity and empathy that we crave. Justify our personal situations, behavior, and choices…or become the crutch, to which we lean, TO justify the latter. In many cases, whether intended or by coincidence, they inspire.
Self-help and/or Spiritual/metaphysical teachers, often refer to the feelings or state of condition that these stories evoke (especially blame), as “being a victim” or “The Victim Stage” (Victim Consciousness — by definition — not an endorsement). Those, who do little introspection or reflection, simply see their actions, as sort of a just cause for survival. So, few rises above this, ever! It is an enormous credit to your will, inner strength, ability to love and forgive if you only just recognize that you are, “stuck here,” but desire to change. Examples of the latter range from simply trying, to believing in a higher power, to realistically manifesting that change.
Do I have a story/stories? Sure!
Did I overcome? Yes.
Did I conquer? Hell, yes and throw in a Hallelujah!
Does anyone really give an FK, or do I ever give myself credit for rising above? No and NO!
What was my first sentence, huh? Were you even paying attention, or just preparing yourself to feel bad for me, or better about yourself? EVERYBODY HAS A STORY! I am now taking out my giant can of literary Febreze and spraying this entire blog, changing the scent from, here we go again — another Author with a tragedy, to a list of situations, that you should not use your problems to excuse. I am remarkably interesting; we all know that! Instead, I thought it might be fun to show some ownership for my mistakes, and even do some, “Tsk-Tsk” finger-pointing, for the BS that others try to get away with — aka JUSTIFICATION!
The root cause(s) are not the focus of this piece. For if revealed, sympathy and empathy begin, and justifying is eminent. Seclusion most often evolves from tragedy. But seclusion is silent, which would make for an incredibly quiet blog, or simply a blank page, as we can only imagine what is going on inside the head of the afflicted. I want to talk actions — the results from “tragic reasons!” Both stereotypical and outrageously imaginative outcomes. Anger — despair — Self-pity … now those, are the car wrecks on the side of the road, that we ALL slow down to look at. Let us list some common happenings, that might seem awfully familiar … or only plain silly:
· I am so sad at this moment, but if I drink all this Scotch, legend has it, that there is a surprise ending to my story, at the bottom of the bottle.
· My anger has me so hot right now, I had better try to splash it cool, with this magic Vodka!
· Since my pain is so overwhelming-so intense, I should really triple up on these pills, to help it subside, or at least, not think about it for a few hours.
· “Take as needed for ____.” Well, FK, I need … I mean I AM IN NEED … so I am going to listen to this label, created by my Doctor and my Pharmacist, and take as needed! After all, these are learned people who wrote this!”
· I don’t care that I have a job to do, or that you are a customer, a client, a person with feelings and troubles of your own. My problems eat your problems for breakfast! You don’t know what I’ve been through — what I am going through, and therefore, I shall be mean to you, rude to you, mistreat you, hate you, because I JUST KNOW … that you don’t know — what I know … and hence, you must be, “all hunky-dory inside,” Right?! “Here’s your fkin’ change!”
· “Chuckie, I have completely shaved off one whole side of my head and grown a half beard only, on the opposite side of my face. And the shop, put a bone piercing, right in the middle of my nostrils for free, if you can imagine that. Oh, by the way, this had nothing to do with (X), I just needed a change … ya’ know?”
· [Erratic Mumbling] “What the hell you are looking at mailbox, never saw someone deep in thought before? Close your flap, no one wants to hear from you. Freegan’ cracked sidewalk, I don’t care, I’m not fixing that. Like you’re the only thing broken around here! Hey Pooch, I know … I know baby … you understand, yeah (abruptly placing the dog in a headlock) — don’t you run away from me! You are the only person who gets me. That’s right, sit down, right here, next to me…until all the pain subsides”
· [Singing often happens] ♫ “I can’t liivvvee, if living is without you, I can’t give any …” ♫ “Cause in the end, it doesn’t really matter ….” ♫” I’m Makin’ it, this time in life I’m making it, hoo hoo hoo…” ♫
· If I run, at top speed, into that concrete wall, face first, I am certain that the anger and sadness inside of me, will have no choice, but to be pummeled out of my soul upon impact. It will land flat on the floor, where I will proceed to quickly scrunch it up into a ball and stuff it into the nearest garbage pail. If that doesn’t work, there is some freshly broken glass in the kitchen, with my name on it.
· “OK, she just blinked. That is normal. Now she is blink-ing — like fluttering butterfly wings, blinking. She stopped. But now, no -no, she is just eating a muffin. It is all good. Wait, she is rubbing her fingers together, to get the muffin crumbs off, BUT SHE’S NOT STOPPING. They must be clean by now; I am sure that this is just another twitch, yes, yes, because now, she is wildly rubbing her fingers together, while raising her arm up and down in front of her face. It has become some sort of ritualistic dance now. She is frantically rubbing her fingers together, whilst raising the hand up and down in front of her face and now, she has begun some sort of possessed shoulder rolling. It is some Linda Blair type shit man! HOLY CRAP, she just added foot-tapping with leg shakes. I got to get out of here, man! Why? Because I know what happens next … the floor is going split open and out comes the giant demon head — I have been to the movies, my friend. I do not want to be around for that!”
· Melinda, was only watching reruns of Happy Days, when all that was asked of her were, “would you like another piece of pie?” She did not just begin to cry; she was utterly inconsolable. Mascara lines, as far down as her neck. Moments without any sounds — as she gasped for what resembled her final breath. Still, others, that were so loud and painful, that they were reminiscent of every horror film-murder scene, that had been commonplace in the 70s. After a solid 20 minutes or so, it all subsided. She seemed numb and lifeless for a moment. It was as if the hurt had been expelled from her — a calm had taken hold. Then suddenly, she burst out laughing uncontrollably, a complete metamorphosis, and yet, with the same characteristics of her crying fit.
Sure, the scenarios are endless, but you are probably done pooping now, right? Or … you just really want to get to sleep, don’t you? Pills kick in? Believe me, I get it. I get it ALL! That is why my list is not mocking the reasons that we do what we do. The tragedy is real and to each, a lonely endeavor, far greater than anyone else’s, during our bouts with destitution and depression. I have explored most, if not all, of the “remedies” (excuses, outlets, scapegoats, DARK PLACES, and so forth) above. It is what we need at that moment! Almost always, the last thing we want is “Armchair Psychology.” We always learn or know deep down, that none of these choices lead to resolving or happiness. Something or someone finally clicks for us. At least, we hope it does/they do, to end our tragic reasons!