Viewing: REFLECTIONS - View all posts

WHO TF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? 

I'm just gonna come out and say it. I got BAD abandonment and validation issues. Seriously, a random nigga in my life doesn't text me back in a timely manner and I'm about to drive to his house and cry on his door step begging for his love (no homo, or maybe just a TAD bit of homo... I guess it depends what he looks like. You know there's some dudes out there that just... wait never mind this is getting way too gay). This stuff is EMOTIONALLY AGONIZING... One side of me can reflect rationally and intellectualize the problem: Daddy was a douche and during the most critical years of my development instead of giving me love and affirmation he stole my lunch money for crack and put me in a hospital with my lips bashed in. So now there's this giant emotional void there in my soul, yadda, yadda, yadda. I get it.  And I even know how to begin healing those wounds... But fuck if it isn't still painful as shit. I feel like I'm walking through life alive and animated, but my soul is low-key on a stretcher attached to an IV full of the donkey from Winnie the Pooh's piss. 

So here I am, 32, and relatively established by "the worlds standards" whatever the hell that means, but deep down I live with the fact that the one person who was supposed to love me and build me up as a man told me I was nothing with his fists and his repeated absence. Not worth fighting for, only worth being jealous of and taking from. The depth of the scars that stuff leaves is hard to express in words.  I'm left trying to figure out how to be a man by myself, and NOW, every relationship I ever have is amplified in it's intensity, because anyone in my life could be a secret surrogate for daddy with the subtext of the relationship being me walking on eggshells and praying they don't leave me for some reason. And to make matters worse, I have a big ass heart, so I love hard, and fast, and am very transparent. I'm what you call "Ripe for the Emotional Anus Pounding" (no homo again, I know this is becoming an on-going theme in this entry but look, it was an appropriate metaphor for the situation, so don't read to much into it!... I do like men though). This world is especially cruel for people like me. 

All I want to know is WHO AM I? Fathers are supposed to give us our identity. Mine never gave me one. So who the hell AM I? Anyone? I'll wait....  

...no?

Tell me about it.  So let me ask you. Who do YOU think YOU are? What do you think about yourself? Did you have a messed up father or mother or influential person in your upbringing telling you some really fucked up things bout yourself through their words or actions that you probably now still believe a little somewhere deep down?  Well guess what, FUCK THAT SHIT!  I used to try and rationalize it away, make up excuses for my dad's actions, and figured that "someday I'd be old enough to understand." Well bitch, I'm 32 now, so when he was my age I was already 14, and he was 3 years way from punching my face in because I wouldn't let him drive my truck. This nigga wasn't "troubled" or "institutionalized," he was just a fucking dirtball of a person making the same mistakes over and over again, entertaining his pride and ego, and clamoring for control wherever he could. Oh, and not to mention casually leaving a wake of physical and emotional destruction behind him whenever he ran out of our lives and majestically swan-dived through the roof of a crack house again. 

I know this sounds dramatic, but I'm telling you all this to give you some perspective. Seriously if a scumbag scam artist crackhead on the street called you names, or told you you were nothing, or not worth it, or said you wouldn't amount to anything, would you REALLY take them seriously? Or how about if a punk little kid who runs around the neighborhood ding-dong-ditching people and pooping on porches flips you off, are you gonna really go home and cry about it? Will that chubby little booger-encrusted middle finger sink in DEEP and traumatize you for decades? OF COURSE NOT... So consider the source when you're thinking about those fuckers in your past who gave you your identity. Look at THEIR lives. Why are they special just because they happened to be biologically responsible for you?  Now that you're older you are just a person just like them, and you can assess them objectively.  They were sad, stupid, dirtballs of people... And I don't even need to know them to know that, because anyone who told you you were ANYTHING but an amazing child of God with a beautiful heart and a purpose in this life IS a sad, stupid, dirtball of a person by definition.  

So let all that shit go. You are an amazing child of God, with a beautiful heart, and you have a PURPOSE in this life.
I SAID SO. THAT'S your new identity.  Fuck the rest.  Believe THAT from now on. 

-J 

Figuring it Out 

From the desk of The J to the O... 

Life is a big steamy
BITCH sometimes. We all figure when we are younger that at some point things will click, or that our destiny will become apparent. Colored by our past, our upbringing, and our experiences, our visions of the future are usually just light shining through a mosaic of broken, and definitely stained glass on a wall of our youthful ideals.  My personal past is one of turmoil and mixed prophesy. It's a juxtaposition of principles, and of beliefs, and of aspirations, and of awkward self assessments. The pain and confusion I have endured manifests symbolically as the painted tears found on my face. 

That all being said...
F#ck it. Sometime you need to stop trying to figure it out, plop your balls on the table, and go to work doing whatever the hell it is you do. Sometimes you just need to build, or work, or grow something. Clean the garage, plant a damn garden, I don't know.  Stop expecting me to have all the answers. I'm in this bitch we call life with you.  I've resolved that, in any case, I'm gonna keep pushing on and figuring more stuff out as I go, because one thing I am NOT is a coward.  Life isn't going to push me around without me pushing back.

If life tries to come at me, I'll grab it and judo throw its bitch ass.  If some horrible sh*
t happens to me, I'll probably crysterbate over it pathetically in the aftermath, but eventually I'll come to my senses and write a song about it. Turn that sh*t into some hot bars or banging beats and put it on my album.  If some punk ass back-stabbs me, I'll pry through the psychology behind it all and turn it into a beautiful moving message that will help others.  

That's one thing
I have figured out... There is ALWAYS a step forward, always a momentum to shift, always a hidden key in the situation. I think it's just our job to find it, and keep learning one step at a time. I'm going to shower and go to bed, my ass itches because I just got out of a hot tub with way too much chlorine in it.  Hey I just got out of a hot tub, life can't be that bad can it? 

-J

PS: There was no particular reason I made "my ass itches" large and bold, but now I just made you read that sentence twice... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA