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I am continuing my story here, and reposting the original chapters I had here. Just unable to post anymore in the original, unsure why. But this is my missive and story, won't really be replying to anyone. But feel free to read if you want. Thank you.
Edit: Looks like the time frame of being able to write runs out after a certain about of time passes with inactivity. Decided to restructure this so I can continue to write freely when I can. Sorry for any confusion.
Edit: Looks like the time frame of being able to write runs out after a certain about of time passes with inactivity. Decided to restructure this so I can continue to write freely when I can. Sorry for any confusion.
Chapter 1: Constructing a life
"Happy are the meek" Matthew 5:5
Beep Beep Beep Beep
The sound of tractors and excavators fill and flood the area with loud sounds. Workers and laborer's are having conversation, hooing at the women walking by, and being derogative by their very nature. the construction site is filled with various materials and walking hazards. And there I am, slaving away in the dreadful heat, the sun beating down on me as I keep to myself, digging trenches in the dirt for pipes to be laid down in them.
As I sweat and observe the area, I continue asking myself "how in the world did I end up here?"
But I knew the answer to that. I was being facetious to myself, trying to pretend that I knew nothing of the events that had transpired. A better question I needed to ask was "Why did I do what I did?" As I stand here staring at dirt around me, I would think about what had gotten me to this point.
For many years of my life and even to this point in time, I did not know how to feel contempt with myself. They say the best way to be something is to fake it till you make it. I have been following that mentality as if that was a guideline, my true path to real happiness. I would always put on this persona, putting on this fake smile, enacting a happy-go-lucky attitude that everyone would find so endearing and admirable. I would be outgoing to others, and develop some friendships which I had always sincerely held dear in my heart. But deep inside I unable to feel pleasure or satisfaction from anything. Anhedonia, as my psychologist would call it. I had feelings, that I knew for certain, but I always held this resentment for myself, feelings as if I didn't deserve any blessings, relationships, or accomplishments I have earned. A unexplainable guilt or shame that wasn't warranted by anything I had done up to this point. I would explore various outlets, whether it was considered good or bad, just to see if I could feel something different from this concurrent depressive episode I was going through. Then one day, just a little over a year ago, an addiction found me. Something I never searched or hunted for before, something I was exposed to unexpectingly, and ironically justified all the feelings I was going through.
When I had first experienced it, I was initially shocked and horrified, unable to comprehend anything. I had avoided all avenues related to it for weeks on end. I was absolutely sick to my stomach. But as time went on, I began thinking about it more. I had experienced something that was different from my current attitude. It was a feeling of fear, uncertainty, and curiosity. Almost like a form of excitement that only a taboo could bring. I started to explore it some more, and before I knew it, it became a secret that you could never mention to anyone, a secret in which you were absolutely disgusted by, had shame for and always denied to acknowledge it in order to receive help. A Secret where if anyone found out, you would receive judgement and resentment for the rest of your life, but something that you wanted to reveal so you can have some relief, and maybe finally move on with your life, but too scared of the consequences.
For a whole year, I was going through a cycle of quitting and restarting this kind of drug, kept on telling myself this immorality did not defined me. But for some reason or another, I kept going back. I cried whenever I did, and started repeating statements to myself. you are a monster. You are a horrible person. You don't deserve anything. I pretended nothing was wrong in the real world, but people would start to acknowledge that I was acting different than the persona I was already putting up. I was not as "happy" as I would be, I was more drained of energy, I kept on forgetting important events and situations. I was becoming weaker than I was already was. But I couldn't tell anyone anything. Eventually, it all caught up to me. I was arrested for my actions, something I was manifesting since the very beginning when it all happened. I was relieved that it was finally out in the open, but also horrified at the thought of it. All the shame, guilt, and resentment I had toward myself boiled up, and I am finally in the lowest point in my life.
I'm currently in the process right now. My parents say I will be ok and that my situation is temporary. My sister tells me I am still a good man. My lawyer says the worst is already over. But I know better. Even if nothing comes out and I will be able to live my life as I had before, I will be working towards redemption for the rest of my life, and maybe never will be able to reach it. I hid this from people, lied to myself, lied to others, and I know I had really hurt everyone I had loved upon this discovery, something I will never be able to make up to them again. I had officially lost everyone. My friends could not condone my actions, were disappointed in me, and don't want to be associated with me anymore. I am just lucky to have my family supporting me. But even then, I am lost in crossroads. I don't know what I will be able to do anymore, nor if I would have the motivation to actually do it.
I try to tell myself I am not that bad of a guy. "I never assaulted anyone in my life. Never murdered, raped, solicited, molested, stole, nothing. I have never hurt anyone in my life." All of that statement was true except for one part. I have hurt people. Never physically, but emotionally. At this point, I don't want forgiveness, nor am I looking to be judged. I don't want condolences, nor am I here to justify any of my actions. I just want to figure out how to actually be happy.
As I am lost in thought, I am back to reality. "HEY, get back to work. We need to set down the pipes soon!"
Thats right, I still had a job that needed to be done. At least I had a job right now, though it was never something I wanted to be doing or thought I would be doing to begin with. As my father said, I am going through repentance right now, and it was all temporary. But how temporary was this for me? I hadn't the slightest clue.
As I continue digging through the trenches, I was distracted by a worker who was singing. He was singing a nursery rhyme, ol' my darling . And he was cheerful, happy. He looked as if he was in his late fifties, scrawny, and covered in mud. I was confused, not understanding why he was in such a jolly mood. This type of work would be dreadful for most men, and even then, they wouldn't be singing at all. A man like this would probably be passed out right now and dehydrated. I figured he was delusional and hallucinating from the heat. I then told him to take five and drink some water, I didn't want him to be passing out on me, nor did I want it on my conscious to say nothing and something did happen.
"Naw man, I be good. Just clippin' along"
He spoke in slang, and by the way he spoke to me and the lack of annunciation, I assumed he was homeless, just trying to pass by with his current situation. I felt bad for him, so offered him to take the orange I brought for lunch that day and to take a small break before continuing. At the very least it was something I could offer. He was ecstatic to hear that, grateful for the offer. He then made a statement, "S'ank you very much! Bless the lord for d'is day and for the offer!". This confused me, honestly. Here was this man living in poverty, probably little to nothing in his name, and still living joyously, praising God. I knew of religion, but I never considered myself to be a religious person in general. It got me thinking, but I wanted to know this man's secret. If he could be happy and joyous with very little, then why then, me who has so much privileges' in general, can't? I had decided to speak to him during actual lunch to kind of understand his story. Thankfully, he was very open about it and I was able to gain some insight. Though to be honest, he also frightened me a bit with it.
"back when's I was twenties, I ran a drug king pin out ofs chicagos. I was very profitable and was runnings many different avenues of drugs and contraband. Thens I's was arrested for murder, spent 10 years in prisons for it. Whens I was out, I continued me business cause' thats alls I know. But overs time, I couldn't continue. I hurt people left and right, and always had da blue on my back. I had 8 children and 7 baby mamas that I couldn't take cares of anyone. I quit everything, and since thens I been homeless. But I never returned to that life. Instead, I embraced God, found his word. No matter who says anythings of me, only he can judge me. He blesses me to wake up, with enough to live on, and to enjoy his blessings. No one can take that away from me's now."
When he finished explaining his story, I was honestly bewildered. This man lived a worse life than most, far worse than mine ever was, yet he was able to find the simple pleasures in life. I was envious honestly, not understanding the story that was told. But it me thinking about the main message. Like I mentioned, I am not a religious man, but maybe if I could understand more, I would be able to understand the message and really find a way to redemption, to figure out a purpose for myself and know what it means to be "successful". I guess its one step at a time at this point in my life. I don't know exactly where to go, or what's really going to transpire, but it is worth a shot I suppose.
I guess this is a renewal in my life, and I am constructing a new chapter now. I don't know what to do or how to find it, but if a man like this could find happiness, then why can't I? I have a lot of work I need to do moving forward, but hopefully I can figure out something. This is the start of my new life, and I desire to prosper in it. This way, I may know what it may be like to actually find peace.
"Happy are the meek" Matthew 5:5
Beep Beep Beep Beep
The sound of tractors and excavators fill and flood the area with loud sounds. Workers and laborer's are having conversation, hooing at the women walking by, and being derogative by their very nature. the construction site is filled with various materials and walking hazards. And there I am, slaving away in the dreadful heat, the sun beating down on me as I keep to myself, digging trenches in the dirt for pipes to be laid down in them.
As I sweat and observe the area, I continue asking myself "how in the world did I end up here?"
But I knew the answer to that. I was being facetious to myself, trying to pretend that I knew nothing of the events that had transpired. A better question I needed to ask was "Why did I do what I did?" As I stand here staring at dirt around me, I would think about what had gotten me to this point.
For many years of my life and even to this point in time, I did not know how to feel contempt with myself. They say the best way to be something is to fake it till you make it. I have been following that mentality as if that was a guideline, my true path to real happiness. I would always put on this persona, putting on this fake smile, enacting a happy-go-lucky attitude that everyone would find so endearing and admirable. I would be outgoing to others, and develop some friendships which I had always sincerely held dear in my heart. But deep inside I unable to feel pleasure or satisfaction from anything. Anhedonia, as my psychologist would call it. I had feelings, that I knew for certain, but I always held this resentment for myself, feelings as if I didn't deserve any blessings, relationships, or accomplishments I have earned. A unexplainable guilt or shame that wasn't warranted by anything I had done up to this point. I would explore various outlets, whether it was considered good or bad, just to see if I could feel something different from this concurrent depressive episode I was going through. Then one day, just a little over a year ago, an addiction found me. Something I never searched or hunted for before, something I was exposed to unexpectingly, and ironically justified all the feelings I was going through.
When I had first experienced it, I was initially shocked and horrified, unable to comprehend anything. I had avoided all avenues related to it for weeks on end. I was absolutely sick to my stomach. But as time went on, I began thinking about it more. I had experienced something that was different from my current attitude. It was a feeling of fear, uncertainty, and curiosity. Almost like a form of excitement that only a taboo could bring. I started to explore it some more, and before I knew it, it became a secret that you could never mention to anyone, a secret in which you were absolutely disgusted by, had shame for and always denied to acknowledge it in order to receive help. A Secret where if anyone found out, you would receive judgement and resentment for the rest of your life, but something that you wanted to reveal so you can have some relief, and maybe finally move on with your life, but too scared of the consequences.
For a whole year, I was going through a cycle of quitting and restarting this kind of drug, kept on telling myself this immorality did not defined me. But for some reason or another, I kept going back. I cried whenever I did, and started repeating statements to myself. you are a monster. You are a horrible person. You don't deserve anything. I pretended nothing was wrong in the real world, but people would start to acknowledge that I was acting different than the persona I was already putting up. I was not as "happy" as I would be, I was more drained of energy, I kept on forgetting important events and situations. I was becoming weaker than I was already was. But I couldn't tell anyone anything. Eventually, it all caught up to me. I was arrested for my actions, something I was manifesting since the very beginning when it all happened. I was relieved that it was finally out in the open, but also horrified at the thought of it. All the shame, guilt, and resentment I had toward myself boiled up, and I am finally in the lowest point in my life.
I'm currently in the process right now. My parents say I will be ok and that my situation is temporary. My sister tells me I am still a good man. My lawyer says the worst is already over. But I know better. Even if nothing comes out and I will be able to live my life as I had before, I will be working towards redemption for the rest of my life, and maybe never will be able to reach it. I hid this from people, lied to myself, lied to others, and I know I had really hurt everyone I had loved upon this discovery, something I will never be able to make up to them again. I had officially lost everyone. My friends could not condone my actions, were disappointed in me, and don't want to be associated with me anymore. I am just lucky to have my family supporting me. But even then, I am lost in crossroads. I don't know what I will be able to do anymore, nor if I would have the motivation to actually do it.
I try to tell myself I am not that bad of a guy. "I never assaulted anyone in my life. Never murdered, raped, solicited, molested, stole, nothing. I have never hurt anyone in my life." All of that statement was true except for one part. I have hurt people. Never physically, but emotionally. At this point, I don't want forgiveness, nor am I looking to be judged. I don't want condolences, nor am I here to justify any of my actions. I just want to figure out how to actually be happy.
As I am lost in thought, I am back to reality. "HEY, get back to work. We need to set down the pipes soon!"
Thats right, I still had a job that needed to be done. At least I had a job right now, though it was never something I wanted to be doing or thought I would be doing to begin with. As my father said, I am going through repentance right now, and it was all temporary. But how temporary was this for me? I hadn't the slightest clue.
As I continue digging through the trenches, I was distracted by a worker who was singing. He was singing a nursery rhyme, ol' my darling . And he was cheerful, happy. He looked as if he was in his late fifties, scrawny, and covered in mud. I was confused, not understanding why he was in such a jolly mood. This type of work would be dreadful for most men, and even then, they wouldn't be singing at all. A man like this would probably be passed out right now and dehydrated. I figured he was delusional and hallucinating from the heat. I then told him to take five and drink some water, I didn't want him to be passing out on me, nor did I want it on my conscious to say nothing and something did happen.
"Naw man, I be good. Just clippin' along"
He spoke in slang, and by the way he spoke to me and the lack of annunciation, I assumed he was homeless, just trying to pass by with his current situation. I felt bad for him, so offered him to take the orange I brought for lunch that day and to take a small break before continuing. At the very least it was something I could offer. He was ecstatic to hear that, grateful for the offer. He then made a statement, "S'ank you very much! Bless the lord for d'is day and for the offer!". This confused me, honestly. Here was this man living in poverty, probably little to nothing in his name, and still living joyously, praising God. I knew of religion, but I never considered myself to be a religious person in general. It got me thinking, but I wanted to know this man's secret. If he could be happy and joyous with very little, then why then, me who has so much privileges' in general, can't? I had decided to speak to him during actual lunch to kind of understand his story. Thankfully, he was very open about it and I was able to gain some insight. Though to be honest, he also frightened me a bit with it.
"back when's I was twenties, I ran a drug king pin out ofs chicagos. I was very profitable and was runnings many different avenues of drugs and contraband. Thens I's was arrested for murder, spent 10 years in prisons for it. Whens I was out, I continued me business cause' thats alls I know. But overs time, I couldn't continue. I hurt people left and right, and always had da blue on my back. I had 8 children and 7 baby mamas that I couldn't take cares of anyone. I quit everything, and since thens I been homeless. But I never returned to that life. Instead, I embraced God, found his word. No matter who says anythings of me, only he can judge me. He blesses me to wake up, with enough to live on, and to enjoy his blessings. No one can take that away from me's now."
When he finished explaining his story, I was honestly bewildered. This man lived a worse life than most, far worse than mine ever was, yet he was able to find the simple pleasures in life. I was envious honestly, not understanding the story that was told. But it me thinking about the main message. Like I mentioned, I am not a religious man, but maybe if I could understand more, I would be able to understand the message and really find a way to redemption, to figure out a purpose for myself and know what it means to be "successful". I guess its one step at a time at this point in my life. I don't know exactly where to go, or what's really going to transpire, but it is worth a shot I suppose.
I guess this is a renewal in my life, and I am constructing a new chapter now. I don't know what to do or how to find it, but if a man like this could find happiness, then why can't I? I have a lot of work I need to do moving forward, but hopefully I can figure out something. This is the start of my new life, and I desire to prosper in it. This way, I may know what it may be like to actually find peace.
Chapter 2: The G.U.I.L.T Trip
"Bad habits are like chains that are too light to feel until they are too heavy to carry" - Warren Buffet
Late into the night, there I am behind the warehouses, where one of the breweries are active among all the abandoned and empty businesses. People are there, enjoying the company and the drinks they are ordering, getting drunk on beer and ales. I'm no different, except I'm currently there alone, drowning my sorrows and feeling remorse, getting jealous of the others as they embrace the comradery and comfort of others. I stare at them, reminiscing over the times where I had that, wishing I was able to appreciate it during those times, not faking my emotions and just really enjoy the embrace of others, feeling wanted. Feeling loved. To understand the appreciation that they really had for me as I did them. My drunken self really starts to ponder whether or not they were there to enjoy my company, or if they felt sorry for me. I honestly had no idea at the time, and I still have no idea about it.
I am now four drinks in off of IPA's, and I decide to leave. I am too drunk to really drive home, so I walk, out into the bushes and grass that was located behind the brewery, until I reach an area with long straights that were free of bushes and trees, and close enough to the highway to hear the cars and trucks pass by. I lay down right there, staring at the illuminated night sky where only a few stars were able to shine through. I was waiting for a moment to come, for a moment to pass me by, as I am just lost in thought. Thinking about past events, past memories, and past emotions. I close my eyes and really delve deep into my thoughts.
They say that the definition of guilt is to feel responsible or regretful about an event, real or imaginary. My psychologist says to treat guilt as an acronym:
Getting
Us
Into
Living
Terrified
As we experience G.U.I.L.T, we tend to live terrified, worried about how people may treat us and react to us for actions we may have committed or thoughts we may be thinking. That it's really no way to live. He explains that in reality, others have no room to judge us for our actions, and only we define what we want to represent in life, and only one being is ever capable of truly judging us. As a Christian based psychologist, he often refers to the bible, and said this to me: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." This excerpt was from Luke 6:37. As nice as it is think that, its harder said than done. We as humans judge everyone for any kind of action, whether intentional or not. I'm guilty of it as much as the next person, and its incredibly hard to forgive others for hurting us in any way, as well as wanting to receive forgiveness for others we may have hurt. It's just part of human nature. I'm still in a state where I don't believe I can be forgiven in any capacity for my actions, and I always been in this constant state of guilt, shame, and remorse where I try anything in my power to make up for the sins committed, whether it was really warranted or not. It's like I look for some kind of validation, to show I am not a horrible person or monster that I lead myself to believe, but acting as if I am would automatically make me one by comparison.
As I lay down with my eyes close, listening to the cars on the road, I begin to think about all my past mistakes. I started remembering getting caught cheating in the second grade for a math test I didn't study for, people I didn't give proper respect to in the past, relationships that ended horribly due to unclear intentions on both sides, and all the times I shied away from truly speaking up for myself. Opportunities that I passed up because I believed I wasn't capable, and getting stuck in jobs and professions that would always take advantage of my work ethic which drove me to the point of severe burn out. The people that I hurt due to my inconsistencies, and sins I committed in secret, and the people I pushed away in fear that if they really get to know me, they would judge me, fear me, not want to be associated with me anymore. I always showed my true nature to people, and people respected me for who I really was, but I was always warried or concerned if they were there out of respect or pity. Over time I developed secrets that I kept from people, becoming more reserved, in order not to feel hurt when they eventually left me. There were only a few individuals, very few, who knew just about anything, and I always feared the day in which they left. That day had come, and now I have no one I could really confine anything in. All because of one mistake, one addictive, dreadful mistake and secret which I always regretted ever committing or going back to. Tears starting rolling down my cheek, as I continued calling myself awful, horrible names which I will not mention here. I am learning to try to be more forgiving of myself, and to acknowledge that I do not represent the past self I was. I will be better. I have to be better. Other wise, I won't know what I would be capable of doing at all.
I open my eyes now. The moment in which I was waiting for had finally arrived. Still laying down, I looked to my side, as the train rushing past me, about five feet away from where I was laying. I watched it zipped past me, going towards whatever destination it was heading to. Then it was gone, moving forward on its trip to where it needed to be. Not looking back. I wiped the tear off my face, and got up. I brushed off the grass and seeds that were sticking to my jeans and headed back to my car. I was sober enough to drive home.
"Bad habits are like chains that are too light to feel until they are too heavy to carry" - Warren Buffet
Late into the night, there I am behind the warehouses, where one of the breweries are active among all the abandoned and empty businesses. People are there, enjoying the company and the drinks they are ordering, getting drunk on beer and ales. I'm no different, except I'm currently there alone, drowning my sorrows and feeling remorse, getting jealous of the others as they embrace the comradery and comfort of others. I stare at them, reminiscing over the times where I had that, wishing I was able to appreciate it during those times, not faking my emotions and just really enjoy the embrace of others, feeling wanted. Feeling loved. To understand the appreciation that they really had for me as I did them. My drunken self really starts to ponder whether or not they were there to enjoy my company, or if they felt sorry for me. I honestly had no idea at the time, and I still have no idea about it.
I am now four drinks in off of IPA's, and I decide to leave. I am too drunk to really drive home, so I walk, out into the bushes and grass that was located behind the brewery, until I reach an area with long straights that were free of bushes and trees, and close enough to the highway to hear the cars and trucks pass by. I lay down right there, staring at the illuminated night sky where only a few stars were able to shine through. I was waiting for a moment to come, for a moment to pass me by, as I am just lost in thought. Thinking about past events, past memories, and past emotions. I close my eyes and really delve deep into my thoughts.
They say that the definition of guilt is to feel responsible or regretful about an event, real or imaginary. My psychologist says to treat guilt as an acronym:
Getting
Us
Into
Living
Terrified
As we experience G.U.I.L.T, we tend to live terrified, worried about how people may treat us and react to us for actions we may have committed or thoughts we may be thinking. That it's really no way to live. He explains that in reality, others have no room to judge us for our actions, and only we define what we want to represent in life, and only one being is ever capable of truly judging us. As a Christian based psychologist, he often refers to the bible, and said this to me: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." This excerpt was from Luke 6:37. As nice as it is think that, its harder said than done. We as humans judge everyone for any kind of action, whether intentional or not. I'm guilty of it as much as the next person, and its incredibly hard to forgive others for hurting us in any way, as well as wanting to receive forgiveness for others we may have hurt. It's just part of human nature. I'm still in a state where I don't believe I can be forgiven in any capacity for my actions, and I always been in this constant state of guilt, shame, and remorse where I try anything in my power to make up for the sins committed, whether it was really warranted or not. It's like I look for some kind of validation, to show I am not a horrible person or monster that I lead myself to believe, but acting as if I am would automatically make me one by comparison.
As I lay down with my eyes close, listening to the cars on the road, I begin to think about all my past mistakes. I started remembering getting caught cheating in the second grade for a math test I didn't study for, people I didn't give proper respect to in the past, relationships that ended horribly due to unclear intentions on both sides, and all the times I shied away from truly speaking up for myself. Opportunities that I passed up because I believed I wasn't capable, and getting stuck in jobs and professions that would always take advantage of my work ethic which drove me to the point of severe burn out. The people that I hurt due to my inconsistencies, and sins I committed in secret, and the people I pushed away in fear that if they really get to know me, they would judge me, fear me, not want to be associated with me anymore. I always showed my true nature to people, and people respected me for who I really was, but I was always warried or concerned if they were there out of respect or pity. Over time I developed secrets that I kept from people, becoming more reserved, in order not to feel hurt when they eventually left me. There were only a few individuals, very few, who knew just about anything, and I always feared the day in which they left. That day had come, and now I have no one I could really confine anything in. All because of one mistake, one addictive, dreadful mistake and secret which I always regretted ever committing or going back to. Tears starting rolling down my cheek, as I continued calling myself awful, horrible names which I will not mention here. I am learning to try to be more forgiving of myself, and to acknowledge that I do not represent the past self I was. I will be better. I have to be better. Other wise, I won't know what I would be capable of doing at all.
I open my eyes now. The moment in which I was waiting for had finally arrived. Still laying down, I looked to my side, as the train rushing past me, about five feet away from where I was laying. I watched it zipped past me, going towards whatever destination it was heading to. Then it was gone, moving forward on its trip to where it needed to be. Not looking back. I wiped the tear off my face, and got up. I brushed off the grass and seeds that were sticking to my jeans and headed back to my car. I was sober enough to drive home.
Chapter 3: The Four A's
"Nothing can be changed until it is faced" - James Baldwin
Since the pandemic occurred back in 2020, I have been facing and addressing many demons. There were some times where I felt better about myself, and there were many other times I would fall into the abyss of my own subconscious, thinking back to to the people I've communicated with, things I have said that were not appropriate, or the actions and decisions I had made that affected my life completely. I didn't want to acknowledge the past, but there was always something that brought me back to it, and it would fill me with guilt and remorse. This has been especially true within the past year, where all of my demons started haunting me. Instead of moving forward with my life and leaving the past behind, I have been greatly unsatisfied with work, crumbled friendships, and let the past influence and affect my future and decisions I made. I started justifying it in my mind, essentially saying "I am this, therefore I cannot change no matter how hard I try." Can't say I don't deserve it though. After all, you end up reaping what you sow, and I ended up planting and supporting a garden filled with weeds and parasites where nothing beneficial prospered and didn't necessarily appreciated what I had.
I eventually had to face the facts, that willpower and overcoming obstacles by yourself isn't enough. I still have trouble coming to terms about that, but I at least had to make an effort. So at the start of this year in 2024, I decided to have joined a support group. My psychologist recommended I try something called "Celebrate Recovery", a men's centered support group for a variety of addictions and ongoing problems. I have to say, despite what my problems were, there are many others who have it way worse than I. Here I am surrounded by a group of the sexually immoral, drug addicts and former drug kingpins, murderer's, alcoholics, and probably the clinically insane. It's just a hunch though. I wouldn't want to mess with any of them outside the gathering place given their testimonies and experiences. But what is relieving to say is that no matter what issues you may face or gone through, they are all set on the number one principle, which is complete anonymity and confidentiality. These men come here with complete confidence and acknowledgments that they are troubled, and are truly coming to terms that whatever past involvements they were in, they are able to decide that their past does not reflect them at all, that it doesn't represent who they are today, and they were able to find success despite their shortcomings and failures. I wish to reach a point where I am able to truly move forward and have that mindset myself. To just be better. I could only hope.
One of the leaders of the group states that you have to respect and implement the four A's, a series of statements in order to develop into your true and future self. The first A is to "Assess the current situation". Honestly easier said then done. I am currently in a hivemind of negative thoughts and emotions stemming from the position I am standing in. I am down in the dumps, currently going through a legal process, characterized and labeled by negative persecutions of society and the court of public opinion, lost my career, and struggling to stay afloat among the war I am facing. At the very least I have to try to put a neutral or positive spin on this, otherwise I would only repeat the same mistakes I had made in the past and wouldn't want to put in the effort thinking that the battles are too great to overcome. As I am writing this, I am having trouble doing so, but at the very least this is what I am able to come up with: I am facing many little battles, I suffer from depression, anxiety, and anhedonia, whatever I was doing did not serve my highest good, I am here, I am alive, I have blessings that many wish to have. I am starting anew. There are many facets that need to be acknowledged, but at the very least this is a good place to start, and the rest will come with time.
The second A is to "Adjust what needs to be done". Unironically, I had already started this step in of itself by joining a support group, despite my reservations of it. I am seeing a psychiatrist, and psychologist, learning more of mental addictions and disorders, using my resources as efficiently as possible, and striving to adapt to the new life and career opportunities. Also, it is to mention that life may return to normal once my legal process is dismissed, but that would be superficial, and not really "changing" who I was and what I really want to be. I aim to be as transparent as possible, where I don't need to keep secrets anymore. I need to adjust my attitude, not be as negative or emotionally distraught all the time. And I want to be a better person, not plagued by my negative emotions and actions which would be considered evil in nature that does not or will ever define me despite my bad habit of self labeling. This would take time, and I am not sure how much time is needed. All I know is that I am here, and I am trying to make an effort.
The third A is to "Admire yourself for having the strength to start again". As a self-loathing Grinch who has a specific time schedule of wallowing in self pity and staring into the abyss, this is going to take some time to get used to. How can a monster admire themselves for starting over without always thinking and being labeled as who they once were? Once evil, always evil, right? Then again, it is in fairy tales and stories in which the villain is just being misunderstood. For this analogy, I would like to think about the movie Megamind, a "villain" who was never inherently evil, but was always perceived to be by society. Therefore, he adapted into that persona and did bad things just because I was expected to. All he wanted was to be acknowledged, whether it was good or bad, but in the end, he became the hero because he really did care about doing the right thing. I know for a fact that life doesn't work out like how the movies or storybooks do, but the same concept could be applied here. I have to learn that just because you did a bad thing, doesn't make you a bad person or always have to be a bad person, but rather the intentions behind you actions define who you are. It doesn't matter if people really know, all you have to know is that you, yourself, are making the effort, and not everyone needs to know about it. It comes from inside, not from the outside, and that's what I need to come to terms about.
The last A of this exercise is to "Act quickly to implement your new course of action". Little did I know I was following these steps, as explained above. I have assess and acknowledge the issue, find a solution, accept and admire yourself for taking those steps, and be brave enough to put it in action. Every time I am in this support group, I am following the four A's. The rest and addressing my emotions will take time, but with the steps I am taking, I am in the right steps of doing so. Even writing these excerpts really help, because I am writing and acknowledging my real emotions and real events that are transpiring. Even if I leave some stuff hidden due to obvious legal reasons, everything I am saying here is the truth, not fictitious or exaggerated. Its really therapeutic in a way, as if I am writing a book. I have experienced a lot of things, heard many opinions, and suffered many consequences. As much as it helps me writing this, maybe it can help you too. As I am learning now more than ever, the demons you are facing or struggles you have, you are not going through it alone. There are many people with many stories, similar experiences, and similar emotions. No one will ever truly know what you may be feeling or going through, but at the very least it can give you peace of mind that your fight is not yours alone, and there are others who been in the same boat as you, and hearing how they are handling it or moving forward can give you ideas to do the same. Just a thought.
I will be continuing writing about my thoughts and experiences for as long as I can. It may give you insight, or maybe you just enjoy reading them. But hopefully it can be something you can find ideas or advice in as you move forward in your own story. So thank you.
"Nothing can be changed until it is faced" - James Baldwin
Since the pandemic occurred back in 2020, I have been facing and addressing many demons. There were some times where I felt better about myself, and there were many other times I would fall into the abyss of my own subconscious, thinking back to to the people I've communicated with, things I have said that were not appropriate, or the actions and decisions I had made that affected my life completely. I didn't want to acknowledge the past, but there was always something that brought me back to it, and it would fill me with guilt and remorse. This has been especially true within the past year, where all of my demons started haunting me. Instead of moving forward with my life and leaving the past behind, I have been greatly unsatisfied with work, crumbled friendships, and let the past influence and affect my future and decisions I made. I started justifying it in my mind, essentially saying "I am this, therefore I cannot change no matter how hard I try." Can't say I don't deserve it though. After all, you end up reaping what you sow, and I ended up planting and supporting a garden filled with weeds and parasites where nothing beneficial prospered and didn't necessarily appreciated what I had.
I eventually had to face the facts, that willpower and overcoming obstacles by yourself isn't enough. I still have trouble coming to terms about that, but I at least had to make an effort. So at the start of this year in 2024, I decided to have joined a support group. My psychologist recommended I try something called "Celebrate Recovery", a men's centered support group for a variety of addictions and ongoing problems. I have to say, despite what my problems were, there are many others who have it way worse than I. Here I am surrounded by a group of the sexually immoral, drug addicts and former drug kingpins, murderer's, alcoholics, and probably the clinically insane. It's just a hunch though. I wouldn't want to mess with any of them outside the gathering place given their testimonies and experiences. But what is relieving to say is that no matter what issues you may face or gone through, they are all set on the number one principle, which is complete anonymity and confidentiality. These men come here with complete confidence and acknowledgments that they are troubled, and are truly coming to terms that whatever past involvements they were in, they are able to decide that their past does not reflect them at all, that it doesn't represent who they are today, and they were able to find success despite their shortcomings and failures. I wish to reach a point where I am able to truly move forward and have that mindset myself. To just be better. I could only hope.
One of the leaders of the group states that you have to respect and implement the four A's, a series of statements in order to develop into your true and future self. The first A is to "Assess the current situation". Honestly easier said then done. I am currently in a hivemind of negative thoughts and emotions stemming from the position I am standing in. I am down in the dumps, currently going through a legal process, characterized and labeled by negative persecutions of society and the court of public opinion, lost my career, and struggling to stay afloat among the war I am facing. At the very least I have to try to put a neutral or positive spin on this, otherwise I would only repeat the same mistakes I had made in the past and wouldn't want to put in the effort thinking that the battles are too great to overcome. As I am writing this, I am having trouble doing so, but at the very least this is what I am able to come up with: I am facing many little battles, I suffer from depression, anxiety, and anhedonia, whatever I was doing did not serve my highest good, I am here, I am alive, I have blessings that many wish to have. I am starting anew. There are many facets that need to be acknowledged, but at the very least this is a good place to start, and the rest will come with time.
The second A is to "Adjust what needs to be done". Unironically, I had already started this step in of itself by joining a support group, despite my reservations of it. I am seeing a psychiatrist, and psychologist, learning more of mental addictions and disorders, using my resources as efficiently as possible, and striving to adapt to the new life and career opportunities. Also, it is to mention that life may return to normal once my legal process is dismissed, but that would be superficial, and not really "changing" who I was and what I really want to be. I aim to be as transparent as possible, where I don't need to keep secrets anymore. I need to adjust my attitude, not be as negative or emotionally distraught all the time. And I want to be a better person, not plagued by my negative emotions and actions which would be considered evil in nature that does not or will ever define me despite my bad habit of self labeling. This would take time, and I am not sure how much time is needed. All I know is that I am here, and I am trying to make an effort.
The third A is to "Admire yourself for having the strength to start again". As a self-loathing Grinch who has a specific time schedule of wallowing in self pity and staring into the abyss, this is going to take some time to get used to. How can a monster admire themselves for starting over without always thinking and being labeled as who they once were? Once evil, always evil, right? Then again, it is in fairy tales and stories in which the villain is just being misunderstood. For this analogy, I would like to think about the movie Megamind, a "villain" who was never inherently evil, but was always perceived to be by society. Therefore, he adapted into that persona and did bad things just because I was expected to. All he wanted was to be acknowledged, whether it was good or bad, but in the end, he became the hero because he really did care about doing the right thing. I know for a fact that life doesn't work out like how the movies or storybooks do, but the same concept could be applied here. I have to learn that just because you did a bad thing, doesn't make you a bad person or always have to be a bad person, but rather the intentions behind you actions define who you are. It doesn't matter if people really know, all you have to know is that you, yourself, are making the effort, and not everyone needs to know about it. It comes from inside, not from the outside, and that's what I need to come to terms about.
The last A of this exercise is to "Act quickly to implement your new course of action". Little did I know I was following these steps, as explained above. I have assess and acknowledge the issue, find a solution, accept and admire yourself for taking those steps, and be brave enough to put it in action. Every time I am in this support group, I am following the four A's. The rest and addressing my emotions will take time, but with the steps I am taking, I am in the right steps of doing so. Even writing these excerpts really help, because I am writing and acknowledging my real emotions and real events that are transpiring. Even if I leave some stuff hidden due to obvious legal reasons, everything I am saying here is the truth, not fictitious or exaggerated. Its really therapeutic in a way, as if I am writing a book. I have experienced a lot of things, heard many opinions, and suffered many consequences. As much as it helps me writing this, maybe it can help you too. As I am learning now more than ever, the demons you are facing or struggles you have, you are not going through it alone. There are many people with many stories, similar experiences, and similar emotions. No one will ever truly know what you may be feeling or going through, but at the very least it can give you peace of mind that your fight is not yours alone, and there are others who been in the same boat as you, and hearing how they are handling it or moving forward can give you ideas to do the same. Just a thought.
I will be continuing writing about my thoughts and experiences for as long as I can. It may give you insight, or maybe you just enjoy reading them. But hopefully it can be something you can find ideas or advice in as you move forward in your own story. So thank you.
Chapter 4: "So, this is what they call Justice"
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGERY, VIOLENCE, SCUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND IDEATION. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE TOPICS MENTIONED, PLEASE AVOID READING. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. THANK YOU.
“whether I do good or whether I do evil is immaterial, for innocence itself is no protection, and if such an idea as that were to take hold in the mind of the citizen that would be the end of security whatsoever.”
– John Adams
I am on my way home, exhausted from work and suffering from major migraines. I could barely focus on the road but able to stay on track, driving slowly as I navigate the rush hour traffic. I had another long day, filing reports, being overworked, and failing to keep my own promises and delegations to family and friends, while falling behind on what work requires of me. I take a deep sigh as I continue on the road, frustrated with myself as these thoughts plagued my mind. I just kept on pushing though, as I kept on thinking on what every one tells me. It can always be worse... Sure, it can always be worse, but I felt like I was at a low point in my life, where I was unimportant, incapable of feeling loved or to be loved, and no one would care if I disappeared. I would consistently refer back to prior relationships I had in my life, where I was able to feel happiness of having that feeling of being wanted, sharing thoughts and ideas, talking about the future, and how I desired that more than ever. I had some friends who would incorporate me in activities to try to stimulate it, and I always appreciated the efforts, but it didn't match up. I always ended sessions more depressed than I did before, and I would always say that I was "ok". But in reality I wasn't. Work was not helping with this either, as they over worked me, demanding that projects and obligations to be finished way ahead of schedule. I always had to work after hours, filing information at home. But I decided not to do that today. I was suffering from migraines all week, feeling remorse and mourning over the death of my dog, thinking of my grandmother in the nursing home, who's time was almost up, and I needed to rest, just sleep, praying that things would get better and that I could find a way out of this situation.
Two hours later from driving, I was finally able to get home. First thing I did was get into pajama bottoms and lay down. I was in no mood to talk to my parents, and the house lights aggravated my senses, making me feel nauseous. I had to cover my face with a pillow, to dull everything out, and just lay in silence. Any noise and light was just hurting my head. I needed to calm down, and this is the only thing I could do at the moment. After a few hours of just laying there, I was finally recovered just enough to walk out to the main area of the house, and greeted my parents. They have been concerned for me for a long time up to this point, noticing that I was becoming more depressed and saddened. They remember what happened years ago, where I had suicidal ideation and I was hospitalized in the psych ward. I don't blame them for being concerned, and this also told me I was starting to lose that mask I had for a long time. I used to be able to hide the emotions well, but not anymore. It was becoming more apparent. I talked to them briefly, saying I was just tired and suffering from migraines. I couldn't eat anything due to the nausea, and it just felt like my body ached. I said my goodnights, and it was my father who said one thing before residing to my quarters: "son, we know that you been stressed about work, but please, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself. We love you". I looked back at him, and was able to genuinely give a half smile, and said "I promise I won't. I love you too dad". Little was I aware, that promise was going to save my life, and one I intend to keep. As much as I wish I was long gone and free from this world, I loved my parents too much to ever break that promise, one I wanted to keep more than anything. I continued to my room and fell asleep for the night.
It is now 6 am in the morning. Normally, I would wake up to the sound of my alarm, but this time, I was awoken by a sound of a nightmare. Bright lights filled the room from the outside, and on the intercom, a repeated sound kept on being said: Residence, please come out with you hands above your head. You have five minutes before we come in . I walked out of my room confused and half naked. My parents were half naked as well, wondering what was happening. We honestly had no idea what was going on, and we couldn't see outside due to the bright LED lights filling up the house. My father was the first one to open the door, as we were all bewildered and confused. Walk one at a time, hands above your head. We did what we were told, as we walked outside one by one, walking towards the light. I was second to walk out, and as I walked past the light, the scene started becoming illuminated for me. There were police cars, all surrounding the house. Two SWAT trucks were parked along the street, and a whole bunch of officers with their guns pointed at us. We were apprehended, handcuffed, and forced to be on our knees in the middle of the driveway as officers held guns pointed at our heads. Neighbors started coming out, witnessing the events that were transpiring. My mother started crying, and I tried condoling her, moving my head on her shoulder saying that everything will be alright. The moment I did though, one of the officers shouted "Get off her or I will shoot" . I said nothing to him and did as instructed, trying to stay as strong as I could. This was a scene out of a horror movie, and we were the stars of it.
We waited for quite a while before I was brought into interrogation. My migraines were still not subsided, and the nauseous feeling I had was worse than before, probably brought on by the situation at hand. I was brought into interrogation shirtless. I had to request a shirt because I was freezing inside the truck. I was actually surprised at myself that I did not cry yet. I was staying strong and as collected as I could in this situation, though I was close to folding in myself. I waited for what felt like an hour before the detective came in. I still had no idea at the time why this was happening, but I soon came to realize why. The detective revealed the evidence, and I felt complete guilt, shame, and remorse. It was something I had forgotten about, something I was clean for over a while, I would estimate about 2 months at this. It came to hit me all at once. I was responsible for putting my parents in this situation, I was responsible for everything that was occurring, I was responsible. I confessed to everything and even more, worried for there sake and hoping that it would be over, all while the nauseas feeling came back stronger than ever. I started throwing up a bit too. They had heard enough, and finally released my parents from their cuffs, I was arrested. I had a lot of sense of fear overwhelming me, but also some sense of relief. It was out in the open, and I no longer had to hide from it. However, my emotions were being driven wild at this time. I was feeling a bit of everything that I became numb, unable to comprehend what just happened. As I was being taken away, the last thing I was able to see were my neighbors with curious faces on them, my father looking down, and my mother balling her eyes out. Couldn't help but to think I really never deserved anything, that the only thing waiting for me is death, to free everyone from the burden I was. But I couldn't even if I wanted to. I made a promise, and despite my rationale behind everything, I needed to keep it.
I was escorted to the county jail, where I was processed. They were rough with me despite being compliant. I was x-rayed, finger-printed, DNA pricked and sampled, even got a surprise prostate exam in case I had anything in me. It was humiliating to say the least. They asked me further questions, this time about my history of depression. They knew I had suicidal intentions in the past, and used it against me. So much for HIPPA laws, but then again, this was the law itself. I had to tell them the story of what transpired, that I wanted to crash a car into something, ending my life as it were back then. I also explained that I had no intention of suicide now, despite it being the only thing on my mind. I should of just learned to keep my mouth shut, because what happened next is that I became a victim of truly inhumane treatment due to my history.
Everyone knows that jail is not the most humane place in the world. You have the worst of the worst amongst each other, officers not really caring, and horrible slop they call food. But what most don't know, is that if you are suffering from mental issues such as depression, suicidal ideation, or any type of mental instability, your stay becomes worse. Much Much Worse. I was escorted to my cell center, and there I got a good few of the place they were going to lock me up in. You had rooms shielded by plexiglass, men just sitting on the floor with no beds. There was one man locked up behind a cell open metal wiring, who was taunting me in the center. "Ooooooooooh boy, we got fresh meat in here!" . I just stood there, trying to act tough and starred him down. But on the inside, I was frightened, terrified like a child. The officer then pushed me, saying to get into my cell. The scene honestly shocked me. Laying down on the floor was a man, with a see-through covered veil of a blanket, barely enough to keep anybody warm, and he was completely naked. I thought to myself great, this is my cellmate, a nudist , but then I realized that was not the case at all. The officer pushed me in the cell and straight up said "Remove your clothes, now". I realize now what was happening. He wasn't nude by choice, he was forced. All the men in this area was. I was shaking as I removed my clothing. I was now fully exposed, trying to cover and keep whatever dignity I had. They threw me a heavy blue mat, that nearly knocked me down. This was my "bed". It was covered with stains of blood and what looked like other bodily fluids. I understand why the others opted to sleep on the floor, which was riddled with dust and food debris. Whatever choice you had, it was not sanitary either way.
Before the officer left, I pleaded with to let me have my one phone call. It was cliche, but I knew from the movies and testimonies that you were allowed one. In my horror, the officer turned and stated "you're in the psych ward, you can't have a call", and with a smile, he turned and locked up the cell, leaving me in this severely hopeless position. I looked around to see my new "home". A bright white light filled the room, graffiti and scratch marks were on the cell walls, with swastikas' and gang signs plastered all over. The most haunting thing was a large quote that was written on the walls, that they chose to leave up just to haunt us. A quote from batman. WHY SO SERIOUS? HA HA HA HA HA . I tried looking outside the glass to see if there was anything I could use to measure time, to try to keep me sane, but to no avail. There were no clocks on the walls, no calendars to follow, no windows anywhere to see the outside. Just the officers behind their desk, and some tables out in the center for when the prisoners get their recess. I never even imagined what this was going to be like, but it definitely wasn't this.
"So, your the new guy huh?". I turned and saw my cellmate, still laying on the floor, and I got a good visual of him. He was a big guy, taller than me, with two large bruises on both sides of his abdomen. With an emotionless face, I replied.
"Yeah, just got in today. What happened to you, got in a fight or something here?" I referred to his bruises on his sides, thinking I needed to prepare if the same might happen to me. What he told me was worse than I thought. He was suicidal and refused to acknowledge a court order issued by his family to be hospitalized. The police came to arrest him for it, and when he resisted, they shot him down with multiple rubber bullets, knocking him out. I asked him how long he's been here. He honestly had no idea. I told him the date, and he looked down, saddened, as if he wished he never heard that. He was there for 20 days already, waiting for his court date to occur for a bond hearing. Reality starts kicking in. This is the place where they just keep you locked up, forgetting that you exist. No communication with the outside world while being naked and afraid. At this point I wish I was dead, wishing for that escape to be out of this God-forsaken Hell-Hole. In my mind I kept on telling myself that this was my punishment, this was my life. I could never be forgiven, that I deserved everything I was receiving. I curled up into a ball in complete surrender. I didn't know if I was getting out, and honestly didn't care anymore. I deserved to rot. Little did I know, the situation is much worse than perceived.
In the psych ward of the jail, they do the bare minimum to keep you alive, and all that they can to keep you insane. We only were offered one cup of water a day, the food was always delivered to us cold with many flies coming out of the container, you were denied showers, cleaning equipment, toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, and ever leaving your cell. I felt as if I was in a zoo, looking behind a glass where other "normal" inmates were able to walk around, fully clothed. A few of them came up to the cell, staring at us stroking their junk right there. The officers didn't care, nor did they intervene. And all I could do is sit back cover myself as best as I could, and close my eyes, wishing to be finished. I also noticed and picked up on the fact that trying to measure time here was essentially meaningless, and it was done on purpose. The light was kept on 24/7, no clock, no windows, no way to ask for time or date. They wanted you to lose meaning, they wanted you to lose it. It was probably their 'excuse" to keep us as mentally unstable as possible to justify its existence and continuance for funding. There was no help here, only torture. And if you decided not to eat or drink that lousy one cup of water, they threatened to force feed you and move you to solitary confinement. You really had to pick your battles here.
I was feeling hopeless and frightened since I got there, and quickly lost track of time. My cellmate was unhinged, saying I was now his "best friend", and nothing could come between us. I just kept my distance and consistently slept with one eye open. Finally, someone came for me. the jails psychiatrist. She said she needed to talk to me for treatment. I wasn't allowed to leave the cell, however, and she didn't come inside. We had to speak and yell between the glass in order for us to hear each other. I wanted to scoff at her statement, saying everything was confidential, and nothing would be shared. Sure, she was surrounded by three officers, and I had a cellmate listening to every word I said. I had to say everything carefully. She started talking about my history of suicide intention, and I had to keep on saying I was not suicidal now, but that did happen. She asked me what my will to live was. I told her my parents. That apparently wasn't good enough, and I needed to think of other reasons if I wanted to get out of here. At this point, everything hit me like a sack of bricks, and for the first time since this endeavor happened, I started crying. I was doing the ultimate taboo in jail. Being naked, and showing vulnerability. I avoided "loud crying", and just let the tears roll off my face, trying to conceal my emotions. My sadness then turned into dismay and anger. I looked back at the psychiatrist, and despite her soft toned voice, she was flushed, blushing, and I swear I saw her licked her lips. This women was turned on. This was a fetish for her, seeing other men in anguish and depression, naked and afraid, scared for their lives. She saw that I noticed, and she didn't care, continuing to say "you don't want to stay here any longer than what you need to, would you?". At this point, I mellowed out, and became numb again. to looked at her with blood-shot teary eyes and a stern face, expressions telling her we are done here
She just smiled and said very well, as she moved out to the next cell door. I went back on the floor waiting for any kind of salvation to come. I had no idea how much time has passed, but they day finally came. My bond hearing. I was finally given something to wear, while my legs and arms chained up as if I were a mass murderer of some kind. I will never justify my actions, but I never physically hurt anyone before. There was justice, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. This was outrageous in my opinion. I was escorted to the court room with other prisoners in the same getup as we all awaited our hearing. I was pulled aside however, away from the other inmates. The officer said "someone is here to speak to you". I figured it was my parents, but it wasn't. It was a lawyer. He wanted to represent my case. I almost refused, however, because I was getting in the mindset that I deserved everything that happened, and I deserved no redemption. I did take him up on it eventually though, and said thank you you before being put back in line with the others.
When it was my turn to be in front of the judge, I was finally able to see a clock. It was early in the morning, and out in the seats, my parents were there, waiting, refusing to acknowledge me. I understood why. I just bowed my head and waited to hear what the judge had to say. Once it was over, I was brought back to my cell, almost like nothing happened. Stripped of my clothes again, I laid on the floor, wanting to bash my head in so badly, wishing and pleading for a death penalty, even though that wouldn't happen at all. I just felt alone. I still couldn't talk to anyone on the outside, nor could I ever explain the situation I was in if I were able to. To my luck and sanity, in the clothes I was provided before, a pen was left in one of the pockets. I snuck it back into the cell. At the very least, I was able to write on the walls, or hurt myself if it got to the point. I went into a small corner of the cell, which had an obscene view from the officers, and I started writing messages on the wall. I pretended as I was writing letters, to the people I wanted to talk to so badly and apologize them, as if they would somehow receive these mini notes. It started with my parents, then my sister, then some who I considered to be my closest friends, friends I wish I could to appreciate and acknowledge more of. And I ended it with the Lords prayer, "our father". I took a deep breathe, hid the pen underneath my tarnished and disgusting "bed", and continued reading these notes and the prayer, over and over again.
Finally, the day came. My bond was paid off. But I wasn't free yet. Upon my release, I was given my clothes back that I went there with, and was handcuffed again. I was escorted now to a hospital, one I was actually working at. The irony of the situation made me want to cry. Fortunately, I didn't interact with anyone I know, and was sent to their psych division of the hospital. I was dying of thirst, starving, and found out I had lost ten lbs. when I was in jail. I was going to be provided with food and a shower soon, but first, this was the first time I had access to a phone. The handcuffs were released, and the officers left, leaving me in the nurses care. I hesitated, but I needed to call my parents. As soon as I heard their voice, everything I was holding in came out. I cried for nearly a straight thirty minutes over the phone, as I was calling myself a monster, a freak, a creature that needs to disappear and die. I scared the nurses with my statements, but they allowed me to vent over the phone for as long as I needed to. My parents just listened as I went on and on about being an unworthy son, a disappointment to everyone, an unlovable, heartless, fowl thing. The nurses took my statements and stressed them out, telling me I need to hang up the phone. The last thing I heard was "son, please, we beg of you, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself, you are worth more than anything you can imagine. We love you"
The nurses then hung up the phone on my behalf, where I was unable to say another word as I continued crying.
I wake up in a sweat now, I am breathing hard as I grab my pillow, holding it close to me. I am in my bed, staring out the window looking for any sign of the police, horrified if they are coming for me again. This event happened about 6 months ago at this point, and I still have nightmares about it. I cannot trust the officers I see in the street, risk ever calling them, or relying on their services anymore. I just know I am safe right now. Everyone keeps on saying the worst is over, and I won't be going back to where I was again, but it's going to take a very long time before I am able to really move on from this. I had to seek services because it really traumatized me. I am scared, I shiver whenever I think about all the events that happened. And I regret everything that put me into this position in the first place. I get up off my bed, and see my father drinking his coffee, waiting for me.
"Good morning son. Did you get some rest".
I sigh, and smiled, "Yeah, though I had the nightmare again, which made me miss my alarm. I'm late for work now, I have to get going. I love you, and please be safe today"
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGERY, VIOLENCE, SCUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND IDEATION. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE TOPICS MENTIONED, PLEASE AVOID READING. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. THANK YOU.
“whether I do good or whether I do evil is immaterial, for innocence itself is no protection, and if such an idea as that were to take hold in the mind of the citizen that would be the end of security whatsoever.”
– John Adams
I am on my way home, exhausted from work and suffering from major migraines. I could barely focus on the road but able to stay on track, driving slowly as I navigate the rush hour traffic. I had another long day, filing reports, being overworked, and failing to keep my own promises and delegations to family and friends, while falling behind on what work requires of me. I take a deep sigh as I continue on the road, frustrated with myself as these thoughts plagued my mind. I just kept on pushing though, as I kept on thinking on what every one tells me. It can always be worse... Sure, it can always be worse, but I felt like I was at a low point in my life, where I was unimportant, incapable of feeling loved or to be loved, and no one would care if I disappeared. I would consistently refer back to prior relationships I had in my life, where I was able to feel happiness of having that feeling of being wanted, sharing thoughts and ideas, talking about the future, and how I desired that more than ever. I had some friends who would incorporate me in activities to try to stimulate it, and I always appreciated the efforts, but it didn't match up. I always ended sessions more depressed than I did before, and I would always say that I was "ok". But in reality I wasn't. Work was not helping with this either, as they over worked me, demanding that projects and obligations to be finished way ahead of schedule. I always had to work after hours, filing information at home. But I decided not to do that today. I was suffering from migraines all week, feeling remorse and mourning over the death of my dog, thinking of my grandmother in the nursing home, who's time was almost up, and I needed to rest, just sleep, praying that things would get better and that I could find a way out of this situation.
Two hours later from driving, I was finally able to get home. First thing I did was get into pajama bottoms and lay down. I was in no mood to talk to my parents, and the house lights aggravated my senses, making me feel nauseous. I had to cover my face with a pillow, to dull everything out, and just lay in silence. Any noise and light was just hurting my head. I needed to calm down, and this is the only thing I could do at the moment. After a few hours of just laying there, I was finally recovered just enough to walk out to the main area of the house, and greeted my parents. They have been concerned for me for a long time up to this point, noticing that I was becoming more depressed and saddened. They remember what happened years ago, where I had suicidal ideation and I was hospitalized in the psych ward. I don't blame them for being concerned, and this also told me I was starting to lose that mask I had for a long time. I used to be able to hide the emotions well, but not anymore. It was becoming more apparent. I talked to them briefly, saying I was just tired and suffering from migraines. I couldn't eat anything due to the nausea, and it just felt like my body ached. I said my goodnights, and it was my father who said one thing before residing to my quarters: "son, we know that you been stressed about work, but please, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself. We love you". I looked back at him, and was able to genuinely give a half smile, and said "I promise I won't. I love you too dad". Little was I aware, that promise was going to save my life, and one I intend to keep. As much as I wish I was long gone and free from this world, I loved my parents too much to ever break that promise, one I wanted to keep more than anything. I continued to my room and fell asleep for the night.
It is now 6 am in the morning. Normally, I would wake up to the sound of my alarm, but this time, I was awoken by a sound of a nightmare. Bright lights filled the room from the outside, and on the intercom, a repeated sound kept on being said: Residence, please come out with you hands above your head. You have five minutes before we come in . I walked out of my room confused and half naked. My parents were half naked as well, wondering what was happening. We honestly had no idea what was going on, and we couldn't see outside due to the bright LED lights filling up the house. My father was the first one to open the door, as we were all bewildered and confused. Walk one at a time, hands above your head. We did what we were told, as we walked outside one by one, walking towards the light. I was second to walk out, and as I walked past the light, the scene started becoming illuminated for me. There were police cars, all surrounding the house. Two SWAT trucks were parked along the street, and a whole bunch of officers with their guns pointed at us. We were apprehended, handcuffed, and forced to be on our knees in the middle of the driveway as officers held guns pointed at our heads. Neighbors started coming out, witnessing the events that were transpiring. My mother started crying, and I tried condoling her, moving my head on her shoulder saying that everything will be alright. The moment I did though, one of the officers shouted "Get off her or I will shoot" . I said nothing to him and did as instructed, trying to stay as strong as I could. This was a scene out of a horror movie, and we were the stars of it.
We waited for quite a while before I was brought into interrogation. My migraines were still not subsided, and the nauseous feeling I had was worse than before, probably brought on by the situation at hand. I was brought into interrogation shirtless. I had to request a shirt because I was freezing inside the truck. I was actually surprised at myself that I did not cry yet. I was staying strong and as collected as I could in this situation, though I was close to folding in myself. I waited for what felt like an hour before the detective came in. I still had no idea at the time why this was happening, but I soon came to realize why. The detective revealed the evidence, and I felt complete guilt, shame, and remorse. It was something I had forgotten about, something I was clean for over a while, I would estimate about 2 months at this. It came to hit me all at once. I was responsible for putting my parents in this situation, I was responsible for everything that was occurring, I was responsible. I confessed to everything and even more, worried for there sake and hoping that it would be over, all while the nauseas feeling came back stronger than ever. I started throwing up a bit too. They had heard enough, and finally released my parents from their cuffs, I was arrested. I had a lot of sense of fear overwhelming me, but also some sense of relief. It was out in the open, and I no longer had to hide from it. However, my emotions were being driven wild at this time. I was feeling a bit of everything that I became numb, unable to comprehend what just happened. As I was being taken away, the last thing I was able to see were my neighbors with curious faces on them, my father looking down, and my mother balling her eyes out. Couldn't help but to think I really never deserved anything, that the only thing waiting for me is death, to free everyone from the burden I was. But I couldn't even if I wanted to. I made a promise, and despite my rationale behind everything, I needed to keep it.
I was escorted to the county jail, where I was processed. They were rough with me despite being compliant. I was x-rayed, finger-printed, DNA pricked and sampled, even got a surprise prostate exam in case I had anything in me. It was humiliating to say the least. They asked me further questions, this time about my history of depression. They knew I had suicidal intentions in the past, and used it against me. So much for HIPPA laws, but then again, this was the law itself. I had to tell them the story of what transpired, that I wanted to crash a car into something, ending my life as it were back then. I also explained that I had no intention of suicide now, despite it being the only thing on my mind. I should of just learned to keep my mouth shut, because what happened next is that I became a victim of truly inhumane treatment due to my history.
Everyone knows that jail is not the most humane place in the world. You have the worst of the worst amongst each other, officers not really caring, and horrible slop they call food. But what most don't know, is that if you are suffering from mental issues such as depression, suicidal ideation, or any type of mental instability, your stay becomes worse. Much Much Worse. I was escorted to my cell center, and there I got a good few of the place they were going to lock me up in. You had rooms shielded by plexiglass, men just sitting on the floor with no beds. There was one man locked up behind a cell open metal wiring, who was taunting me in the center. "Ooooooooooh boy, we got fresh meat in here!" . I just stood there, trying to act tough and starred him down. But on the inside, I was frightened, terrified like a child. The officer then pushed me, saying to get into my cell. The scene honestly shocked me. Laying down on the floor was a man, with a see-through covered veil of a blanket, barely enough to keep anybody warm, and he was completely naked. I thought to myself great, this is my cellmate, a nudist , but then I realized that was not the case at all. The officer pushed me in the cell and straight up said "Remove your clothes, now". I realize now what was happening. He wasn't nude by choice, he was forced. All the men in this area was. I was shaking as I removed my clothing. I was now fully exposed, trying to cover and keep whatever dignity I had. They threw me a heavy blue mat, that nearly knocked me down. This was my "bed". It was covered with stains of blood and what looked like other bodily fluids. I understand why the others opted to sleep on the floor, which was riddled with dust and food debris. Whatever choice you had, it was not sanitary either way.
Before the officer left, I pleaded with to let me have my one phone call. It was cliche, but I knew from the movies and testimonies that you were allowed one. In my horror, the officer turned and stated "you're in the psych ward, you can't have a call", and with a smile, he turned and locked up the cell, leaving me in this severely hopeless position. I looked around to see my new "home". A bright white light filled the room, graffiti and scratch marks were on the cell walls, with swastikas' and gang signs plastered all over. The most haunting thing was a large quote that was written on the walls, that they chose to leave up just to haunt us. A quote from batman. WHY SO SERIOUS? HA HA HA HA HA . I tried looking outside the glass to see if there was anything I could use to measure time, to try to keep me sane, but to no avail. There were no clocks on the walls, no calendars to follow, no windows anywhere to see the outside. Just the officers behind their desk, and some tables out in the center for when the prisoners get their recess. I never even imagined what this was going to be like, but it definitely wasn't this.
"So, your the new guy huh?". I turned and saw my cellmate, still laying on the floor, and I got a good visual of him. He was a big guy, taller than me, with two large bruises on both sides of his abdomen. With an emotionless face, I replied.
"Yeah, just got in today. What happened to you, got in a fight or something here?" I referred to his bruises on his sides, thinking I needed to prepare if the same might happen to me. What he told me was worse than I thought. He was suicidal and refused to acknowledge a court order issued by his family to be hospitalized. The police came to arrest him for it, and when he resisted, they shot him down with multiple rubber bullets, knocking him out. I asked him how long he's been here. He honestly had no idea. I told him the date, and he looked down, saddened, as if he wished he never heard that. He was there for 20 days already, waiting for his court date to occur for a bond hearing. Reality starts kicking in. This is the place where they just keep you locked up, forgetting that you exist. No communication with the outside world while being naked and afraid. At this point I wish I was dead, wishing for that escape to be out of this God-forsaken Hell-Hole. In my mind I kept on telling myself that this was my punishment, this was my life. I could never be forgiven, that I deserved everything I was receiving. I curled up into a ball in complete surrender. I didn't know if I was getting out, and honestly didn't care anymore. I deserved to rot. Little did I know, the situation is much worse than perceived.
In the psych ward of the jail, they do the bare minimum to keep you alive, and all that they can to keep you insane. We only were offered one cup of water a day, the food was always delivered to us cold with many flies coming out of the container, you were denied showers, cleaning equipment, toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, and ever leaving your cell. I felt as if I was in a zoo, looking behind a glass where other "normal" inmates were able to walk around, fully clothed. A few of them came up to the cell, staring at us stroking their junk right there. The officers didn't care, nor did they intervene. And all I could do is sit back cover myself as best as I could, and close my eyes, wishing to be finished. I also noticed and picked up on the fact that trying to measure time here was essentially meaningless, and it was done on purpose. The light was kept on 24/7, no clock, no windows, no way to ask for time or date. They wanted you to lose meaning, they wanted you to lose it. It was probably their 'excuse" to keep us as mentally unstable as possible to justify its existence and continuance for funding. There was no help here, only torture. And if you decided not to eat or drink that lousy one cup of water, they threatened to force feed you and move you to solitary confinement. You really had to pick your battles here.
I was feeling hopeless and frightened since I got there, and quickly lost track of time. My cellmate was unhinged, saying I was now his "best friend", and nothing could come between us. I just kept my distance and consistently slept with one eye open. Finally, someone came for me. the jails psychiatrist. She said she needed to talk to me for treatment. I wasn't allowed to leave the cell, however, and she didn't come inside. We had to speak and yell between the glass in order for us to hear each other. I wanted to scoff at her statement, saying everything was confidential, and nothing would be shared. Sure, she was surrounded by three officers, and I had a cellmate listening to every word I said. I had to say everything carefully. She started talking about my history of suicide intention, and I had to keep on saying I was not suicidal now, but that did happen. She asked me what my will to live was. I told her my parents. That apparently wasn't good enough, and I needed to think of other reasons if I wanted to get out of here. At this point, everything hit me like a sack of bricks, and for the first time since this endeavor happened, I started crying. I was doing the ultimate taboo in jail. Being naked, and showing vulnerability. I avoided "loud crying", and just let the tears roll off my face, trying to conceal my emotions. My sadness then turned into dismay and anger. I looked back at the psychiatrist, and despite her soft toned voice, she was flushed, blushing, and I swear I saw her licked her lips. This women was turned on. This was a fetish for her, seeing other men in anguish and depression, naked and afraid, scared for their lives. She saw that I noticed, and she didn't care, continuing to say "you don't want to stay here any longer than what you need to, would you?". At this point, I mellowed out, and became numb again. to looked at her with blood-shot teary eyes and a stern face, expressions telling her we are done here
She just smiled and said very well, as she moved out to the next cell door. I went back on the floor waiting for any kind of salvation to come. I had no idea how much time has passed, but they day finally came. My bond hearing. I was finally given something to wear, while my legs and arms chained up as if I were a mass murderer of some kind. I will never justify my actions, but I never physically hurt anyone before. There was justice, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. This was outrageous in my opinion. I was escorted to the court room with other prisoners in the same getup as we all awaited our hearing. I was pulled aside however, away from the other inmates. The officer said "someone is here to speak to you". I figured it was my parents, but it wasn't. It was a lawyer. He wanted to represent my case. I almost refused, however, because I was getting in the mindset that I deserved everything that happened, and I deserved no redemption. I did take him up on it eventually though, and said thank you you before being put back in line with the others.
When it was my turn to be in front of the judge, I was finally able to see a clock. It was early in the morning, and out in the seats, my parents were there, waiting, refusing to acknowledge me. I understood why. I just bowed my head and waited to hear what the judge had to say. Once it was over, I was brought back to my cell, almost like nothing happened. Stripped of my clothes again, I laid on the floor, wanting to bash my head in so badly, wishing and pleading for a death penalty, even though that wouldn't happen at all. I just felt alone. I still couldn't talk to anyone on the outside, nor could I ever explain the situation I was in if I were able to. To my luck and sanity, in the clothes I was provided before, a pen was left in one of the pockets. I snuck it back into the cell. At the very least, I was able to write on the walls, or hurt myself if it got to the point. I went into a small corner of the cell, which had an obscene view from the officers, and I started writing messages on the wall. I pretended as I was writing letters, to the people I wanted to talk to so badly and apologize them, as if they would somehow receive these mini notes. It started with my parents, then my sister, then some who I considered to be my closest friends, friends I wish I could to appreciate and acknowledge more of. And I ended it with the Lords prayer, "our father". I took a deep breathe, hid the pen underneath my tarnished and disgusting "bed", and continued reading these notes and the prayer, over and over again.
Finally, the day came. My bond was paid off. But I wasn't free yet. Upon my release, I was given my clothes back that I went there with, and was handcuffed again. I was escorted now to a hospital, one I was actually working at. The irony of the situation made me want to cry. Fortunately, I didn't interact with anyone I know, and was sent to their psych division of the hospital. I was dying of thirst, starving, and found out I had lost ten lbs. when I was in jail. I was going to be provided with food and a shower soon, but first, this was the first time I had access to a phone. The handcuffs were released, and the officers left, leaving me in the nurses care. I hesitated, but I needed to call my parents. As soon as I heard their voice, everything I was holding in came out. I cried for nearly a straight thirty minutes over the phone, as I was calling myself a monster, a freak, a creature that needs to disappear and die. I scared the nurses with my statements, but they allowed me to vent over the phone for as long as I needed to. My parents just listened as I went on and on about being an unworthy son, a disappointment to everyone, an unlovable, heartless, fowl thing. The nurses took my statements and stressed them out, telling me I need to hang up the phone. The last thing I heard was "son, please, we beg of you, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself, you are worth more than anything you can imagine. We love you"
The nurses then hung up the phone on my behalf, where I was unable to say another word as I continued crying.
I wake up in a sweat now, I am breathing hard as I grab my pillow, holding it close to me. I am in my bed, staring out the window looking for any sign of the police, horrified if they are coming for me again. This event happened about 6 months ago at this point, and I still have nightmares about it. I cannot trust the officers I see in the street, risk ever calling them, or relying on their services anymore. I just know I am safe right now. Everyone keeps on saying the worst is over, and I won't be going back to where I was again, but it's going to take a very long time before I am able to really move on from this. I had to seek services because it really traumatized me. I am scared, I shiver whenever I think about all the events that happened. And I regret everything that put me into this position in the first place. I get up off my bed, and see my father drinking his coffee, waiting for me.
"Good morning son. Did you get some rest".
I sigh, and smiled, "Yeah, though I had the nightmare again, which made me miss my alarm. I'm late for work now, I have to get going. I love you, and please be safe today"
Chapter 5: Right Place, Right Time
"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven" - Tryon Edwards
Have you ever been in a situation where you ended being at the right place at the right time? Or have you ever been at the wrong place at the right time, or any variation of that sort? They say that everything happens for a reason, and that we end up encountering people that have major impacts on our decisions, ideas, and our very way of thinking and processing information. I have had a variety of these encounters and they certainly affected my life and the way I went about my daily activities. Here I will be describing a few events that had impacted me, both the positive and negative, and a situation I found myself in just the other day.
Everyone encounter, every thought has a reason behind it. For most, we tend to think about personal and intimate relationships in which configures our train of thought, and how they really affected our lives and situations. The first and most impactful relationship I could think of had major influences in my life, and how I went about interacting with others moving forward, and it really took me a while before I was able to come to terms with it and how it ended, as I move on with my life, for better or for worse. At the time, she was the first childhood friend I have ever made, our families were really close, and she ended up being my crush and for sometime my highschool sweetheart. I didn't know much about relationships at the time, and we lived far away from each other growing up. But we had talked everyday, shared everything with each other, and at some point we ended up falling in love with one another. The best and only example I had about successful relationships at the time were through my parents, and they taught me that in order to make a relationship work is that you had to have trust, understand, and willing to sacrifice needs and wants for that other person. In our last year of highscool, we were talking about colleges, and I decided to make that sacrifice and apply for the same colleges as her. We were on mutual relations at this point due to uncertainty about the future, but my naïve self truly thought she was my soul mate at the time, and I wanted to do everything in my power to make it work. I would never push the subject, but I continued to be a supportive friend and never pushed the subject during this time, and just maybe, hopefully, we would get back together in the future.
By sheer luck and dedication, we ended up going to the same school, out of state, and I was thinking that this could be it. I kept my distance but also made it clear that if she needed anything at all, I would be willing to put my needs aside to make sure she was taken care of. Her mother had also asked me to make that promise, and for someone I was in love with, I would do it. Fast forward a couple a months into our first school year, and I was sensing something was off. I was feeling severally homesick, struggling with school for the first time in my life, and my friendship with her was... off. She was at my dorm room every single day, but made little to no communications with me anymore, more so being there to be with my dormmates as they did their own activities. That in itself was fine, but it put me a little off on how I introduced them to her, yet I was never invited to their activities or informed about what they were doing. I tried dismissing it, but it made me feel lonely more so than ever. I didn't have alot of friends since I was brand new, and I was always busy with school and applying for work that that I started to feel like an outcast to everyone. I didn't know what was happening to cause everyone pushing me away. Then one day I received a call, something that changed that relationship forever and effected my mentality moving forward.
My parents called me, and originally I thought they were there checking in with my status. But they revealed to me that she called them, saying that I was being "creepish" and "stalking her", almost obsessive over her. I was in shock, and I didn't know how to react. I knew there was a misunderstanding somewhere, and I needed to confront her about the accusations. If anything, I was barely talking to her, and she would be over every single day without invitation from me, so I had no idea where all this was coming from. When I finally talked to her, asking her what's going on, she had "heard" that I was spreading rumors' about her, that I was telling everyone that she was a slut, and how we had sex over and over again, and how people were telling her I was following her every location. I honestly didn't know how to defend myself at this point in time. Both of us knew I was a virgin still, and I was consistently busy with school life to even do anything of that sort. I was bewildered, and in shock. The only thing I said was "Who on earth told you that???". She wouldn't say, and looked dismissive at the question, but continued to belittle me, and stated "you will be lucky I can ever consider you a friend again", and stormed off. I just sat there, broken hearted and distraught. I had no idea what happened, and it stayed that way ever since. She was still over my dorm room everyday after that conversation, and it became clear that I was not wanted around, by her or my dormmates. I had to reside sleeping in the study hall after that, being isolated from people I thought were my friends and being ousted like some unwanted pet. She later started dating one of my dormmates, and that's when I put two and two together. I was lied about to get me out of the picture. After that, I really started learning about what life was about, and started to heavily distrust people. I Moved out of the school and started living in my own flat nearby. I had to work three jobs just to support myself out there alone, and still full time school. I was struggling, and I was still feeling alone. There was one friend who would reach out at times, and she would later become good friends with me later on, but at the time I was still distrusting, and very depressed about life. Do to my struggles and failures, it led to my suicidal ideation, and later caused me to be hospitalized. After those events I had to move back home, where I had met another old soul from my past.
I was now back home, just trying to get by day by day. I was out of school, jobless, and still trying to recover from the events that transpired. One day I was walking my dog, then out of nowhere this car pulled up next to me, and the window opened. A friend from highschool recognized me, and said hello. I called him "friend", but I really didn't know him much. We were in band together in middle school, and did the swim team together for a little bit but that was it. We never really communicated outside of that. Little did I become aware that I was in the right place and right time at that moment, and he would show me how to enjoy the blessings in life, at least for a bit. I would still have trouble moving forward, but he tried and tried with me, and never really gave up. It became kind of fun, though he was far from a good friend to have. He was a drug addict, broke, constantly in trouble, and liked to live dangerously. But I never treated him differently from anyone else, and he had later admitted that he always looked up to me, that I was his rolemodel and wanted to be like me. Honestly, it made me feel good that he said that, and we had wild adventures moving forward, being a ying and yang kind of duo, me being the voice of reason, and him being completely free spirited. Regardless, he was wacky and wild, and helped me cheer up whenever I was down. I had unfortunately lost him some time ago, and I honestly don't know what happened to him. His phone was out of service, he was longer living where he was was, and it seemed like he disappeared off the face of the planet. I honestly wish him well, and I miss him, but he taught me two valuable lessons. Never judge a person based on their history, but by who they are, and that life is too short to live in misery and sadness, to find that joy in anything that you can do. I still have trouble with that and consistently think of the past and the actions I had committed which feed into my depressive nature, but it's a lesson I am trying to cope with and implement.
Now fast forward to two days ago. As the previous chapters elaborated on, I am currently going through a legal process, and my lawyer explained to me that I do not have the liberty of being at the wrong place at the wrong time anymore, that any situation I fall under, whether it be a car accident or being a witness to a crime, or my name being mentioned anywhere can be an excuse to lock me up until the proceedings are done. Needless to say, I've been very cautious about everything I do, and to avoid and ignore situations that I see unfolding. However, I found myself in a position where I needed to react to, and though it was the right thing to do, I am worried that it may lead into potential trouble moving forward.
Two days ago I had visited my grandmother at her place. She needed up replacing the airfilter in her apartment, and to help her reorganize her cabinets as she was unable to reach in certain places anymore due to recent injuries. I was leaving the community, and as I was driving down the road, I noticed this skinny, frail, old women on the side of the road. Lets call her "Ms. Jackson". It was a red light and I was witnessing her first hand. She was trying to cross the road, and she moved like a snail, dragging her feet one at a time trying to balance herself with a cane. Poor thing was my first thought. I wanted to help, but my lawyers words rang in my ear, and I stayed put. Anything were to happen, I would automatically be at fault, whether it was me or not. As I was watching her, I was looking closely and saw her almost trip on herself. I swear she was going to kill herself at this pace. My conscious got the best of me, and despite the discretions and advise I was given, I just cursed under my breath, put my hazards on, and got out of the car.
"Excuse me ma'am, do you need a ride somewhere??", I had asked her. She slowly turned to look at me, and excitedly exclaimed "YES!!". I could tell she wasn't all there, despite having proper language and speaking properly, and there was something off about her. I guided her to my car as fast as she could walk, and pointed out that its dangerous to be alone walking in the middle of the street without someone being nearby. I asked if she had anyone living with her, and she had no real answer, that her son did but was living in a different state. I took a deep breathe, and asked her if she knew where she lived. Fortunately. she lived in the same community as my grandmother, and we were close by. I said I would take her home, but little did I know what was going to happen then.
As I was driving her home, we went through the guard gate, showed the guard my ID, and he looked at the passenger side, where his face was in awe and in shock. "Ms. Jackson?! Where have you been??? Security has been looking for you everywhere!!"
Oh no, what did I get myself into...
"I just found her on the side of the street and talking her home" I explained. "What happened??"
"Just take her home and the security will explain everything"
Now I am worried for my life. I wasn't sure what I gotten myself into, or what situation unfolded, but here goes another example of me trying to be a nice guy getting me in trouble. I collected myself, and took her back to her apartment, but the scene that awaited me was not what I was expecting.
Water was flooding from her apartment door, the air felt like it was well over 100 degrees, and water from dripping down below into the residences houses below her apartment. Apparently Ms. Jackson forgot to turn off her flame, gas stove and left the water running to the point of flooding. She was apparently returning from super market (lord knows how on earth she got there in the first place given her condition) as she left her building in a state of a flooding and fire hazard. My mouth is agap, and unsure what got her in this situation in the first place. Security began questioning me what I was doing with Ms. Jackson, and I simply stated that I picked her up on the side of the road to be friendly, as I saw she was in no condition to be walking at all. That's when I had to be front about it,
"Listen, I have no idea who this lady is, and I only just met her. I have no ties to this or what had happened, but obviously she cannot be living by herself. If she has any relative or friends you can contact, do it, but she is a hazard to herself, and obviously to others right now. You have to help her".
The security officer understood the situation, but tried making me liable simply because she was in my "care". They tried getting any and all of my information, which I refused to do, and had to quickly make my leave before things got worse. I just told them that this is your responsibility and I had no part of this at all. As I left, I was still trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I almost got in trouble for trying to do the right thing. At the very least, I can say I did what in my conscious mind was the best thing to do, but it almost cost me my freedom if I stayed and provided any information to them. Unser the same circumstances, I would do that again, but I was at the right place at the right time, and ended up helping someone in need. If something happened to her as she was crossing the street, I wouldn't know how I would feel. At least I was able to get her home, and hopefully she receives the help she needs. But man, what a close situation it was for me.
"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven" - Tryon Edwards
Have you ever been in a situation where you ended being at the right place at the right time? Or have you ever been at the wrong place at the right time, or any variation of that sort? They say that everything happens for a reason, and that we end up encountering people that have major impacts on our decisions, ideas, and our very way of thinking and processing information. I have had a variety of these encounters and they certainly affected my life and the way I went about my daily activities. Here I will be describing a few events that had impacted me, both the positive and negative, and a situation I found myself in just the other day.
Everyone encounter, every thought has a reason behind it. For most, we tend to think about personal and intimate relationships in which configures our train of thought, and how they really affected our lives and situations. The first and most impactful relationship I could think of had major influences in my life, and how I went about interacting with others moving forward, and it really took me a while before I was able to come to terms with it and how it ended, as I move on with my life, for better or for worse. At the time, she was the first childhood friend I have ever made, our families were really close, and she ended up being my crush and for sometime my highschool sweetheart. I didn't know much about relationships at the time, and we lived far away from each other growing up. But we had talked everyday, shared everything with each other, and at some point we ended up falling in love with one another. The best and only example I had about successful relationships at the time were through my parents, and they taught me that in order to make a relationship work is that you had to have trust, understand, and willing to sacrifice needs and wants for that other person. In our last year of highscool, we were talking about colleges, and I decided to make that sacrifice and apply for the same colleges as her. We were on mutual relations at this point due to uncertainty about the future, but my naïve self truly thought she was my soul mate at the time, and I wanted to do everything in my power to make it work. I would never push the subject, but I continued to be a supportive friend and never pushed the subject during this time, and just maybe, hopefully, we would get back together in the future.
By sheer luck and dedication, we ended up going to the same school, out of state, and I was thinking that this could be it. I kept my distance but also made it clear that if she needed anything at all, I would be willing to put my needs aside to make sure she was taken care of. Her mother had also asked me to make that promise, and for someone I was in love with, I would do it. Fast forward a couple a months into our first school year, and I was sensing something was off. I was feeling severally homesick, struggling with school for the first time in my life, and my friendship with her was... off. She was at my dorm room every single day, but made little to no communications with me anymore, more so being there to be with my dormmates as they did their own activities. That in itself was fine, but it put me a little off on how I introduced them to her, yet I was never invited to their activities or informed about what they were doing. I tried dismissing it, but it made me feel lonely more so than ever. I didn't have alot of friends since I was brand new, and I was always busy with school and applying for work that that I started to feel like an outcast to everyone. I didn't know what was happening to cause everyone pushing me away. Then one day I received a call, something that changed that relationship forever and effected my mentality moving forward.
My parents called me, and originally I thought they were there checking in with my status. But they revealed to me that she called them, saying that I was being "creepish" and "stalking her", almost obsessive over her. I was in shock, and I didn't know how to react. I knew there was a misunderstanding somewhere, and I needed to confront her about the accusations. If anything, I was barely talking to her, and she would be over every single day without invitation from me, so I had no idea where all this was coming from. When I finally talked to her, asking her what's going on, she had "heard" that I was spreading rumors' about her, that I was telling everyone that she was a slut, and how we had sex over and over again, and how people were telling her I was following her every location. I honestly didn't know how to defend myself at this point in time. Both of us knew I was a virgin still, and I was consistently busy with school life to even do anything of that sort. I was bewildered, and in shock. The only thing I said was "Who on earth told you that???". She wouldn't say, and looked dismissive at the question, but continued to belittle me, and stated "you will be lucky I can ever consider you a friend again", and stormed off. I just sat there, broken hearted and distraught. I had no idea what happened, and it stayed that way ever since. She was still over my dorm room everyday after that conversation, and it became clear that I was not wanted around, by her or my dormmates. I had to reside sleeping in the study hall after that, being isolated from people I thought were my friends and being ousted like some unwanted pet. She later started dating one of my dormmates, and that's when I put two and two together. I was lied about to get me out of the picture. After that, I really started learning about what life was about, and started to heavily distrust people. I Moved out of the school and started living in my own flat nearby. I had to work three jobs just to support myself out there alone, and still full time school. I was struggling, and I was still feeling alone. There was one friend who would reach out at times, and she would later become good friends with me later on, but at the time I was still distrusting, and very depressed about life. Do to my struggles and failures, it led to my suicidal ideation, and later caused me to be hospitalized. After those events I had to move back home, where I had met another old soul from my past.
I was now back home, just trying to get by day by day. I was out of school, jobless, and still trying to recover from the events that transpired. One day I was walking my dog, then out of nowhere this car pulled up next to me, and the window opened. A friend from highschool recognized me, and said hello. I called him "friend", but I really didn't know him much. We were in band together in middle school, and did the swim team together for a little bit but that was it. We never really communicated outside of that. Little did I become aware that I was in the right place and right time at that moment, and he would show me how to enjoy the blessings in life, at least for a bit. I would still have trouble moving forward, but he tried and tried with me, and never really gave up. It became kind of fun, though he was far from a good friend to have. He was a drug addict, broke, constantly in trouble, and liked to live dangerously. But I never treated him differently from anyone else, and he had later admitted that he always looked up to me, that I was his rolemodel and wanted to be like me. Honestly, it made me feel good that he said that, and we had wild adventures moving forward, being a ying and yang kind of duo, me being the voice of reason, and him being completely free spirited. Regardless, he was wacky and wild, and helped me cheer up whenever I was down. I had unfortunately lost him some time ago, and I honestly don't know what happened to him. His phone was out of service, he was longer living where he was was, and it seemed like he disappeared off the face of the planet. I honestly wish him well, and I miss him, but he taught me two valuable lessons. Never judge a person based on their history, but by who they are, and that life is too short to live in misery and sadness, to find that joy in anything that you can do. I still have trouble with that and consistently think of the past and the actions I had committed which feed into my depressive nature, but it's a lesson I am trying to cope with and implement.
Now fast forward to two days ago. As the previous chapters elaborated on, I am currently going through a legal process, and my lawyer explained to me that I do not have the liberty of being at the wrong place at the wrong time anymore, that any situation I fall under, whether it be a car accident or being a witness to a crime, or my name being mentioned anywhere can be an excuse to lock me up until the proceedings are done. Needless to say, I've been very cautious about everything I do, and to avoid and ignore situations that I see unfolding. However, I found myself in a position where I needed to react to, and though it was the right thing to do, I am worried that it may lead into potential trouble moving forward.
Two days ago I had visited my grandmother at her place. She needed up replacing the airfilter in her apartment, and to help her reorganize her cabinets as she was unable to reach in certain places anymore due to recent injuries. I was leaving the community, and as I was driving down the road, I noticed this skinny, frail, old women on the side of the road. Lets call her "Ms. Jackson". It was a red light and I was witnessing her first hand. She was trying to cross the road, and she moved like a snail, dragging her feet one at a time trying to balance herself with a cane. Poor thing was my first thought. I wanted to help, but my lawyers words rang in my ear, and I stayed put. Anything were to happen, I would automatically be at fault, whether it was me or not. As I was watching her, I was looking closely and saw her almost trip on herself. I swear she was going to kill herself at this pace. My conscious got the best of me, and despite the discretions and advise I was given, I just cursed under my breath, put my hazards on, and got out of the car.
"Excuse me ma'am, do you need a ride somewhere??", I had asked her. She slowly turned to look at me, and excitedly exclaimed "YES!!". I could tell she wasn't all there, despite having proper language and speaking properly, and there was something off about her. I guided her to my car as fast as she could walk, and pointed out that its dangerous to be alone walking in the middle of the street without someone being nearby. I asked if she had anyone living with her, and she had no real answer, that her son did but was living in a different state. I took a deep breathe, and asked her if she knew where she lived. Fortunately. she lived in the same community as my grandmother, and we were close by. I said I would take her home, but little did I know what was going to happen then.
As I was driving her home, we went through the guard gate, showed the guard my ID, and he looked at the passenger side, where his face was in awe and in shock. "Ms. Jackson?! Where have you been??? Security has been looking for you everywhere!!"
Oh no, what did I get myself into...
"I just found her on the side of the street and talking her home" I explained. "What happened??"
"Just take her home and the security will explain everything"
Now I am worried for my life. I wasn't sure what I gotten myself into, or what situation unfolded, but here goes another example of me trying to be a nice guy getting me in trouble. I collected myself, and took her back to her apartment, but the scene that awaited me was not what I was expecting.
Water was flooding from her apartment door, the air felt like it was well over 100 degrees, and water from dripping down below into the residences houses below her apartment. Apparently Ms. Jackson forgot to turn off her flame, gas stove and left the water running to the point of flooding. She was apparently returning from super market (lord knows how on earth she got there in the first place given her condition) as she left her building in a state of a flooding and fire hazard. My mouth is agap, and unsure what got her in this situation in the first place. Security began questioning me what I was doing with Ms. Jackson, and I simply stated that I picked her up on the side of the road to be friendly, as I saw she was in no condition to be walking at all. That's when I had to be front about it,
"Listen, I have no idea who this lady is, and I only just met her. I have no ties to this or what had happened, but obviously she cannot be living by herself. If she has any relative or friends you can contact, do it, but she is a hazard to herself, and obviously to others right now. You have to help her".
The security officer understood the situation, but tried making me liable simply because she was in my "care". They tried getting any and all of my information, which I refused to do, and had to quickly make my leave before things got worse. I just told them that this is your responsibility and I had no part of this at all. As I left, I was still trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I almost got in trouble for trying to do the right thing. At the very least, I can say I did what in my conscious mind was the best thing to do, but it almost cost me my freedom if I stayed and provided any information to them. Unser the same circumstances, I would do that again, but I was at the right place at the right time, and ended up helping someone in need. If something happened to her as she was crossing the street, I wouldn't know how I would feel. At least I was able to get her home, and hopefully she receives the help she needs. But man, what a close situation it was for me.
Chapter 6: Humbled through Humility
... Whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things. The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you" - Philippians 4:8-9
Yesterday I was driving out to a new job site. I was asked to report for a construction job but I wasn't given much details on it. All I knew was that I had work, something that has been distant for me for a while. What I didn't expect the type of area I was going to. It was within a community located on a golf course. It was decorated with beautiful florals and houses at least twice the size of what you would normally expect and see in the suburban areas. People around were driving golf carts, walking their dogs in strollers, and had no care in the world for anything. Just as happy as they could be. I was definitely within the neighborhood of the uber wealthy, and I could only dream about being in their positions, wishing and hoping that I could make it like that one day. But then, it even got crazier. When I showed up to the specific address, there was a guard gate. "A gated community within a gated community?" I had thought to myself. What I saw then was something I didn't expect to see.
After I had passed the gates, my jaw ended up dropping. This was a community that was nothing but mansions with minimum 10 rooms in each place. Gorgeous designs and grass that looked like it belonged within an official PGA putting greens, driveways filled with vintage and sports cars that were at least half a million dollars in value each. This was the one percent within the one percent. I grew jealous over seeing the community, wondering why would anyone need this much, and what it would take to even make it this far. I needed to stay calm, because I wasn't there to oogle over sights, I was there for work. And what I ended up having to do was humiliating from the standpoint of the environment I was in.
When I arrived to my designated post, I was provided with a shovel and a broom. They had just finished putting in a new fauntain in the center of this community, as well as planted new trees in the area. They wanted me to clean the streets and the finished construction area and clean it of debris and all the plastic lying around. Never in my life did I think I would become a literal street sweeper. And I couldn't complain about it either. I just sighed and got to work, sweeping asphalt of the pristine streets, moving and lifting heavy fences off of the working areas, and raking and shoveling plastic off the dirt and mud. The sun was hot, I was getting sunburned, and my muscles ached. I may have "been" in paradise, but I definitely wasn't living it.
Was I was cleaning up the debris off the streets, there was this one lady walking her dog. As she got closer, I just smiled and said "good morning". I kid you not, this lady jumped as if she saw a ghost, shocked and surprised, and her first and only reply was:
"OhMyGodYouSpeakEnglish!!"
My smile disappeared, and replaced with confusion and sadness. I may be Spanish, but I never thought in my life, especially in today's day and age, that I would be stereotyped in that way. As she walked around me avoiding any additional confrontation, I just looked around and examined my working environment. All the workers there were Spanish who didn't speak English. I don't know what their situations were like, but the way it currently was, I was officially one of them. Just seen as "peasants" in the eyes of the rich individuals who only converse amongst themselves, criticizing us and labeling us as if we were nothing. They probably thought I was an illegal immigrant too, just there to work dead-end jobs to not be noticed or seen. I looked down in my attire, and I was covered in dust from the dirt, hands filled with calluses from working with the equipment I had. Compared to my previous standing and position, I was at an all time low. I have desires to overcome the challenges and have true redemption for myself and to make up relationships with others, but I kept on having this dreadful feeling that it would be impossible. That I would forever be stuck with labels, never really make it in life, and never have people care for me again. And that was a life not worth living.
As I continued sweeping up the streets, one of the mansion owners came out to me. He called out for my attention, then started pointing to some debris that was in front of his driveway, making sweeping motions with his hands and an expression that definitely said to hurry up. A privileged asshole who wanted his needs to take priority over everything else, and also thought I had no understanding of English either. I just looked at him, fed up, and replied
"Sir, I am the only one cleaning the streets right now. Your property is next, just wait"
He just looked at me, not mad or insulted, but actually with intrigue. "That's different. Normally you guys don't speak English"
I was insulted, but tried to keep composure. "Sir, I'm not these guys . I'm just here due to circumstances."
"Well at least your now living the American dream" he said with a smirk and a laugh
My face was stern at this point. I was tired of being disrespected by these guys, and I couldn't say anything to really insult them. doing so would cost me whatever work I had. But I also couldn't let him get away with it. My frustration boiled up, and I replied "Do you really think its my dream to be a street sweeper making minimum wage and having nothing to my name?" I stated firmly. Though I was actually getting paid more, I kind of had to put him in a place of having some kind of remorse and to maybe think about being more empathetic to people he considered to be "lowlife". I then pointed to his house, trying to make the point more apparent. "That's the dream right there, not whatever this is here"
He just smiled, like he knew he got under my skin, but also replied with a response I was not expecting. "Do you want to know how I made it?"
Whatever frustration I had left me and I was now filled with curiosity. I humbly replied yes, and asked what his secret was. He asked me to wait as he went back to his mansion, and I decided to start working on his property as a way to say thank you and sorry for the outburst, given if he was actually going to give me something beneficial. When he came back out, he gave me a book and said to read it. It was titled "Success 4 Us". He had said he would be a fool if he told me his secrets to his monetary success, but that I would be better off making my own secrets instead. I thanked him for his generosity as he went into his golf kart, then before he left he returned to his assholish remarks. "Oh, I want that done before I get back. Or I will report you and you'll be sorry" he said with a smile and a laugh. Boy, did I want to punch him so bad, but at least he gave me something which I was not anticipating at all. I just put the book away into my car and went back to work, trying to put that behind me.
After a long day and being tired as can be be, I climbed in my car as if I was beaten up. I was sore all over, dirty, and dusty. I was too tired to think and was starving beyond repair. I looked at the book the guy gave me, and noticed something coming out of it. I opened the book to see, and a 50 dollar bill came out of it with a note. Make sure you eat something good, and remember to read this book . I just sighed, and was grateful. As much as a douchebag as he was, he made efforts in other ways to be a nice person, in some weird way. Then I looked down at the page the money came out of, and a part of it was highlighted. This what he had highlighted:
"Perhaps the biggest break anyone could ever receive is to decide exactly what it is he or she wanted and then become obsessed with obtaining it."
I know what this was hinting at. Its the theory of the universal law of attraction, in a way. Think it, want it, do it. I closed the book, thinking about what I am doing and how its making me feel. This is not what I want, but what I feel as if I deserve. Its hard to break out of a certain mentality, especially when you feel your life is breaking apart around you. I have alot I need to really discover about myself, and even more which I have to deal with. I'm lost and I really don't know how yet. But I do know what I want. I want redemption, to be freed by my guilt, and to make amends to everyone who had lost faith in me that I had really loved and cared about. I want that more than anything in the world right now. I have a long way to go, and I am not sure when its going to happen. If I had to be humiliated by this for now, then so be it. I just pray that this is not the rest of my life as I know it. I went back home, put my newly obtained book by my nightstand, and crashed. I was too tired to do anything else, and all I needed was to rest. Just rest. It was going to be a new day soon, and I had alot I needed to do.
... Whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things. The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you" - Philippians 4:8-9
Yesterday I was driving out to a new job site. I was asked to report for a construction job but I wasn't given much details on it. All I knew was that I had work, something that has been distant for me for a while. What I didn't expect the type of area I was going to. It was within a community located on a golf course. It was decorated with beautiful florals and houses at least twice the size of what you would normally expect and see in the suburban areas. People around were driving golf carts, walking their dogs in strollers, and had no care in the world for anything. Just as happy as they could be. I was definitely within the neighborhood of the uber wealthy, and I could only dream about being in their positions, wishing and hoping that I could make it like that one day. But then, it even got crazier. When I showed up to the specific address, there was a guard gate. "A gated community within a gated community?" I had thought to myself. What I saw then was something I didn't expect to see.
After I had passed the gates, my jaw ended up dropping. This was a community that was nothing but mansions with minimum 10 rooms in each place. Gorgeous designs and grass that looked like it belonged within an official PGA putting greens, driveways filled with vintage and sports cars that were at least half a million dollars in value each. This was the one percent within the one percent. I grew jealous over seeing the community, wondering why would anyone need this much, and what it would take to even make it this far. I needed to stay calm, because I wasn't there to oogle over sights, I was there for work. And what I ended up having to do was humiliating from the standpoint of the environment I was in.
When I arrived to my designated post, I was provided with a shovel and a broom. They had just finished putting in a new fauntain in the center of this community, as well as planted new trees in the area. They wanted me to clean the streets and the finished construction area and clean it of debris and all the plastic lying around. Never in my life did I think I would become a literal street sweeper. And I couldn't complain about it either. I just sighed and got to work, sweeping asphalt of the pristine streets, moving and lifting heavy fences off of the working areas, and raking and shoveling plastic off the dirt and mud. The sun was hot, I was getting sunburned, and my muscles ached. I may have "been" in paradise, but I definitely wasn't living it.
Was I was cleaning up the debris off the streets, there was this one lady walking her dog. As she got closer, I just smiled and said "good morning". I kid you not, this lady jumped as if she saw a ghost, shocked and surprised, and her first and only reply was:
"OhMyGodYouSpeakEnglish!!"
My smile disappeared, and replaced with confusion and sadness. I may be Spanish, but I never thought in my life, especially in today's day and age, that I would be stereotyped in that way. As she walked around me avoiding any additional confrontation, I just looked around and examined my working environment. All the workers there were Spanish who didn't speak English. I don't know what their situations were like, but the way it currently was, I was officially one of them. Just seen as "peasants" in the eyes of the rich individuals who only converse amongst themselves, criticizing us and labeling us as if we were nothing. They probably thought I was an illegal immigrant too, just there to work dead-end jobs to not be noticed or seen. I looked down in my attire, and I was covered in dust from the dirt, hands filled with calluses from working with the equipment I had. Compared to my previous standing and position, I was at an all time low. I have desires to overcome the challenges and have true redemption for myself and to make up relationships with others, but I kept on having this dreadful feeling that it would be impossible. That I would forever be stuck with labels, never really make it in life, and never have people care for me again. And that was a life not worth living.
As I continued sweeping up the streets, one of the mansion owners came out to me. He called out for my attention, then started pointing to some debris that was in front of his driveway, making sweeping motions with his hands and an expression that definitely said to hurry up. A privileged asshole who wanted his needs to take priority over everything else, and also thought I had no understanding of English either. I just looked at him, fed up, and replied
"Sir, I am the only one cleaning the streets right now. Your property is next, just wait"
He just looked at me, not mad or insulted, but actually with intrigue. "That's different. Normally you guys don't speak English"
I was insulted, but tried to keep composure. "Sir, I'm not these guys . I'm just here due to circumstances."
"Well at least your now living the American dream" he said with a smirk and a laugh
My face was stern at this point. I was tired of being disrespected by these guys, and I couldn't say anything to really insult them. doing so would cost me whatever work I had. But I also couldn't let him get away with it. My frustration boiled up, and I replied "Do you really think its my dream to be a street sweeper making minimum wage and having nothing to my name?" I stated firmly. Though I was actually getting paid more, I kind of had to put him in a place of having some kind of remorse and to maybe think about being more empathetic to people he considered to be "lowlife". I then pointed to his house, trying to make the point more apparent. "That's the dream right there, not whatever this is here"
He just smiled, like he knew he got under my skin, but also replied with a response I was not expecting. "Do you want to know how I made it?"
Whatever frustration I had left me and I was now filled with curiosity. I humbly replied yes, and asked what his secret was. He asked me to wait as he went back to his mansion, and I decided to start working on his property as a way to say thank you and sorry for the outburst, given if he was actually going to give me something beneficial. When he came back out, he gave me a book and said to read it. It was titled "Success 4 Us". He had said he would be a fool if he told me his secrets to his monetary success, but that I would be better off making my own secrets instead. I thanked him for his generosity as he went into his golf kart, then before he left he returned to his assholish remarks. "Oh, I want that done before I get back. Or I will report you and you'll be sorry" he said with a smile and a laugh. Boy, did I want to punch him so bad, but at least he gave me something which I was not anticipating at all. I just put the book away into my car and went back to work, trying to put that behind me.
After a long day and being tired as can be be, I climbed in my car as if I was beaten up. I was sore all over, dirty, and dusty. I was too tired to think and was starving beyond repair. I looked at the book the guy gave me, and noticed something coming out of it. I opened the book to see, and a 50 dollar bill came out of it with a note. Make sure you eat something good, and remember to read this book . I just sighed, and was grateful. As much as a douchebag as he was, he made efforts in other ways to be a nice person, in some weird way. Then I looked down at the page the money came out of, and a part of it was highlighted. This what he had highlighted:
"Perhaps the biggest break anyone could ever receive is to decide exactly what it is he or she wanted and then become obsessed with obtaining it."
I know what this was hinting at. Its the theory of the universal law of attraction, in a way. Think it, want it, do it. I closed the book, thinking about what I am doing and how its making me feel. This is not what I want, but what I feel as if I deserve. Its hard to break out of a certain mentality, especially when you feel your life is breaking apart around you. I have alot I need to really discover about myself, and even more which I have to deal with. I'm lost and I really don't know how yet. But I do know what I want. I want redemption, to be freed by my guilt, and to make amends to everyone who had lost faith in me that I had really loved and cared about. I want that more than anything in the world right now. I have a long way to go, and I am not sure when its going to happen. If I had to be humiliated by this for now, then so be it. I just pray that this is not the rest of my life as I know it. I went back home, put my newly obtained book by my nightstand, and crashed. I was too tired to do anything else, and all I needed was to rest. Just rest. It was going to be a new day soon, and I had alot I needed to do.
Chapter 7: Am I the bad guy?
"Hi. Its me. I'm the problem, it's me" Taylor Swift
Its been a while since I had written here, and alot has been going on. I guess it's best to start out from where I left off. As part of my celebrate recovery group, we are currently working on our personal inventory. It's essentially a list that goes through a life review, with all the people we have encountered, hurts off the past, people we may have hurt, decisions made, and how it shaped us as people. Needless to say, it hurts. Alot. As I go through the list, I can't help but to think of all the people I have affected through my actions, words, and decisions, and I am noticing a pattern now, something I didn't want to acknowledge, or perhaps didn't realize, before. It's at a point where I need to at least write it down and go into my correlations.
While working on myself, I have been studying and going into Schema Therapy. For those of you who don't know, schema therapy is a study made by Dr. Young, and it incorporates our beliefs about ourselves, the world around us, and the world of others. Schemas generally operate within the background of our awareness, but they do have a great influence over our sense of self, our expectations about life, and the quality of our relationships. In other words, its the framework in which we make sense of everything around us. Through various assessments I had taken, It was discovered that my schemas are dominated by two maladaptive areas, in which my perception is primarily focused on other-directedness and overvigilance/inhibition. I show great signs of self-sacrifice and negativity/pessimism. Both of almost self-explanatory, but comes with specific details about them. Self-sacrifice is associated with emotional deprivation, where much care is put onto others and I tend to refuse or receive little in return. I would purposely suppress my own needs in order to avoid negative consequences simply because I "believe its the right thing to do". As a result, my actions try to seek validation from others while never acknowledging my own needs and wants. It was honestly freighting to see how accurate it was. What was more horrifying was the negative/pessimism aspect of things.
As the name suggest, negativity and pessimism is just viewing the world and actions on the negative side of things. It's typically associated with stress and a lot of ramifications about the future. If that doesn't describe me to a tee, I don't know what does. But when associating the self-sacrifice aspect of things, it leaves me to be indecisive and self-sabotaging. In obsessing's over my efforts prevent mistakes, I often make mistakes in pleasing the wrong people, just for the identification and recognition needed to "belong". Even if its for the wrong reasons. Just by being part of the wrong crowd and the desire to please everyone, I would make decisions that would hurt me in the end, even if I didn't associate with it or knew it was the wrong thing to do.
Just learning about that hits hard. And also explains a lot. I would fall to peer pressure, knowing it bad or something I shouldn't be doing, just so that others can get satisfaction and I would "belong". And it plays into my constant thought of failure, actual failures, and constant feelings of impending doom. And I would lie about my feelings constantly, so that others don't need to worry about me at all. It's something I have been working on, since before the arrest I had, but at the same time, something I still struggle with, especially now that I am in this limbo with everything.
Now that I have better knowledge about myself, I am able to put a different perspective into my personal inventory, and boy, was I a messed up individual. Probably still am. I noticed a pattern of constantly putting myself as a victim, blaming others instead of myself for my actions and misdeeds, and I inhibited bad behaviors among others instead of really helping others just so I can be seen more favorably among them instead of focusing on myself. I was a pretender, just so I could satisfy others. And lied to myself, about what I was doing and telling myself "this is me" when in reality it never was. I do care about people, and I want to make things right. I am not who I made myself to be, it never resonated with me personally and I realized I didn't have a desire towards my actions, but rather a desire to be accepted, even if it were with the wrong people. I was alone, and I hurt the wrong people that should have never been hurt to begin with, genuine, good people. If I had the ability, I would go back in time and undo some things, and never engage with some activities to begin with. I wish I could make amends to people, and truly express how sorry I am about some things, but I now know that it may never come at this point, and I have to learn from my actions to be a better person in general. Its about what I do from here, and seeking redemption for myself and to those who really matter to me. My family, people I still consider to be good friends, and everyone I encounter in the future. I know I am a messed up person, and I may be a bad guy. I don't want to be that anymore, and I am on a path to better myself as a whole. It will take time, and that's all I have now.
"Hi. Its me. I'm the problem, it's me" Taylor Swift
Its been a while since I had written here, and alot has been going on. I guess it's best to start out from where I left off. As part of my celebrate recovery group, we are currently working on our personal inventory. It's essentially a list that goes through a life review, with all the people we have encountered, hurts off the past, people we may have hurt, decisions made, and how it shaped us as people. Needless to say, it hurts. Alot. As I go through the list, I can't help but to think of all the people I have affected through my actions, words, and decisions, and I am noticing a pattern now, something I didn't want to acknowledge, or perhaps didn't realize, before. It's at a point where I need to at least write it down and go into my correlations.
While working on myself, I have been studying and going into Schema Therapy. For those of you who don't know, schema therapy is a study made by Dr. Young, and it incorporates our beliefs about ourselves, the world around us, and the world of others. Schemas generally operate within the background of our awareness, but they do have a great influence over our sense of self, our expectations about life, and the quality of our relationships. In other words, its the framework in which we make sense of everything around us. Through various assessments I had taken, It was discovered that my schemas are dominated by two maladaptive areas, in which my perception is primarily focused on other-directedness and overvigilance/inhibition. I show great signs of self-sacrifice and negativity/pessimism. Both of almost self-explanatory, but comes with specific details about them. Self-sacrifice is associated with emotional deprivation, where much care is put onto others and I tend to refuse or receive little in return. I would purposely suppress my own needs in order to avoid negative consequences simply because I "believe its the right thing to do". As a result, my actions try to seek validation from others while never acknowledging my own needs and wants. It was honestly freighting to see how accurate it was. What was more horrifying was the negative/pessimism aspect of things.
As the name suggest, negativity and pessimism is just viewing the world and actions on the negative side of things. It's typically associated with stress and a lot of ramifications about the future. If that doesn't describe me to a tee, I don't know what does. But when associating the self-sacrifice aspect of things, it leaves me to be indecisive and self-sabotaging. In obsessing's over my efforts prevent mistakes, I often make mistakes in pleasing the wrong people, just for the identification and recognition needed to "belong". Even if its for the wrong reasons. Just by being part of the wrong crowd and the desire to please everyone, I would make decisions that would hurt me in the end, even if I didn't associate with it or knew it was the wrong thing to do.
Just learning about that hits hard. And also explains a lot. I would fall to peer pressure, knowing it bad or something I shouldn't be doing, just so that others can get satisfaction and I would "belong". And it plays into my constant thought of failure, actual failures, and constant feelings of impending doom. And I would lie about my feelings constantly, so that others don't need to worry about me at all. It's something I have been working on, since before the arrest I had, but at the same time, something I still struggle with, especially now that I am in this limbo with everything.
Now that I have better knowledge about myself, I am able to put a different perspective into my personal inventory, and boy, was I a messed up individual. Probably still am. I noticed a pattern of constantly putting myself as a victim, blaming others instead of myself for my actions and misdeeds, and I inhibited bad behaviors among others instead of really helping others just so I can be seen more favorably among them instead of focusing on myself. I was a pretender, just so I could satisfy others. And lied to myself, about what I was doing and telling myself "this is me" when in reality it never was. I do care about people, and I want to make things right. I am not who I made myself to be, it never resonated with me personally and I realized I didn't have a desire towards my actions, but rather a desire to be accepted, even if it were with the wrong people. I was alone, and I hurt the wrong people that should have never been hurt to begin with, genuine, good people. If I had the ability, I would go back in time and undo some things, and never engage with some activities to begin with. I wish I could make amends to people, and truly express how sorry I am about some things, but I now know that it may never come at this point, and I have to learn from my actions to be a better person in general. Its about what I do from here, and seeking redemption for myself and to those who really matter to me. My family, people I still consider to be good friends, and everyone I encounter in the future. I know I am a messed up person, and I may be a bad guy. I don't want to be that anymore, and I am on a path to better myself as a whole. It will take time, and that's all I have now.
Chapter 8: Through the Faults of our Own
"There are people who are very resourceful, at being remorseful, and who apparently feel that the best way to make friends is to do something terrible and then make amends" -Ogden Nash
It has been a while since I have written here, and through all the therapy, struggles, and conversations I been having, there came a question that I have heard and have trouble answering to.
What is worse: A bad person trying to do what is right, or a good person who intentionally does something bad?
I have heard both sides of the argument. A bad person trying to do what is right is not inherently bad, while the good person who does bad things mean they were never good to begin with, just a façade that they portray. Most people tend to agree with this notion, and then develops a cognitive conclusion based on the actions they committed, that what anyone did, good or bad, dictates who they really are and are incapable of changing. This is a face value conclusion, as I have been exposed to. But what about situational circumstances? What if the bad person is only trying to do good deeds or change because they are forced to due to law or for a good disposition to gain the upper hand? And what if the good person is genuine in their appearance and disposition, but intentionally does bad things because of an addiction or being coerced to do so? There are many reasons why people do the things they do, but the way society judges them dictates how they are perceived, that the circumstances are never played into consideration until its too late. I will admit, I got into the habit of judging others on face value and based on their past, that they can't overcome what they did and they are exactly what they are told to be. Whether it be drug dealer, drug addict, domestic abuser, manipulator, sex offender, etc. Their stories did not matter, or what they are doing to compensate for their sin. But now that I am more familiar with the process, there is far more than meets the eye behind it all. Which begs the question, how does one really now when someone is their genuine self, or if they are putting up a persona behind a mask?
I honestly cannot say for sure. It is hard to decipher others when getting to know one another. To be honest, I don't even understand myself at times, feeling conflicted on who I really am. And sometimes, time doesn't necessarily allow you to fully understand these feelings are situations either, or let alone heal the wounds which your actions had caused. So that begs the question, how does one know when someone's resolve is intentional, or faked? Its hard to determine, and I am now starting to come to terms about it. I wish I could show people that my attempts at my amends are real, and not fabricated. I know the damaged I caused, but I suppose I am still looking for an excuse as well. Something I have learned from the celebrate recovery class I am in is that when you make amends or offering forgiveness, do not expect anything in return. Its supposed to be solely for yourself. That's where I am falling flat, where my selfishness is coming from. I desire to be forgiven immediately, when it doesn't work that way. I have to face the repercussions of my actions, and things may never be the way they were before. I have to be at peace with myself, and not wish to acquire it from others for that instant gratification. I wish I could have things go back to the way it was before, but I know that can't be the case anymore. I have to move on, though that is difficult in their own right. I have caused hurts and hang-ups that could last for years, for myself and others, and if I could take it back I would, but I know I can't. Even if I can't make things better, I pray that others can move on from it, that I appreciated our time together, that I never wanted to hurt or disappoint others, and that I really treasured the moments together. But this is the reality. And I have to learn from it.
So back to the question from earlier, what is worse? I really do believe that evil actions can not be justified in any way. Evil is evil. Period. But for the individual, its what they decide to do the events that reflects their true character. I will end this chapter short, but also end with a specific principle and quote that has guided me within my celebrate recovery group. Its the very first principle and step, and maybe reading it can help someone else as well. Who knows? I am still working on myself as it is, and I have finally come to admit it as well.
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors, that our lives had become unmanageable.
"For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out". Romans 7:18
"There are people who are very resourceful, at being remorseful, and who apparently feel that the best way to make friends is to do something terrible and then make amends" -Ogden Nash
It has been a while since I have written here, and through all the therapy, struggles, and conversations I been having, there came a question that I have heard and have trouble answering to.
What is worse: A bad person trying to do what is right, or a good person who intentionally does something bad?
I have heard both sides of the argument. A bad person trying to do what is right is not inherently bad, while the good person who does bad things mean they were never good to begin with, just a façade that they portray. Most people tend to agree with this notion, and then develops a cognitive conclusion based on the actions they committed, that what anyone did, good or bad, dictates who they really are and are incapable of changing. This is a face value conclusion, as I have been exposed to. But what about situational circumstances? What if the bad person is only trying to do good deeds or change because they are forced to due to law or for a good disposition to gain the upper hand? And what if the good person is genuine in their appearance and disposition, but intentionally does bad things because of an addiction or being coerced to do so? There are many reasons why people do the things they do, but the way society judges them dictates how they are perceived, that the circumstances are never played into consideration until its too late. I will admit, I got into the habit of judging others on face value and based on their past, that they can't overcome what they did and they are exactly what they are told to be. Whether it be drug dealer, drug addict, domestic abuser, manipulator, sex offender, etc. Their stories did not matter, or what they are doing to compensate for their sin. But now that I am more familiar with the process, there is far more than meets the eye behind it all. Which begs the question, how does one really now when someone is their genuine self, or if they are putting up a persona behind a mask?
I honestly cannot say for sure. It is hard to decipher others when getting to know one another. To be honest, I don't even understand myself at times, feeling conflicted on who I really am. And sometimes, time doesn't necessarily allow you to fully understand these feelings are situations either, or let alone heal the wounds which your actions had caused. So that begs the question, how does one know when someone's resolve is intentional, or faked? Its hard to determine, and I am now starting to come to terms about it. I wish I could show people that my attempts at my amends are real, and not fabricated. I know the damaged I caused, but I suppose I am still looking for an excuse as well. Something I have learned from the celebrate recovery class I am in is that when you make amends or offering forgiveness, do not expect anything in return. Its supposed to be solely for yourself. That's where I am falling flat, where my selfishness is coming from. I desire to be forgiven immediately, when it doesn't work that way. I have to face the repercussions of my actions, and things may never be the way they were before. I have to be at peace with myself, and not wish to acquire it from others for that instant gratification. I wish I could have things go back to the way it was before, but I know that can't be the case anymore. I have to move on, though that is difficult in their own right. I have caused hurts and hang-ups that could last for years, for myself and others, and if I could take it back I would, but I know I can't. Even if I can't make things better, I pray that others can move on from it, that I appreciated our time together, that I never wanted to hurt or disappoint others, and that I really treasured the moments together. But this is the reality. And I have to learn from it.
So back to the question from earlier, what is worse? I really do believe that evil actions can not be justified in any way. Evil is evil. Period. But for the individual, its what they decide to do the events that reflects their true character. I will end this chapter short, but also end with a specific principle and quote that has guided me within my celebrate recovery group. Its the very first principle and step, and maybe reading it can help someone else as well. Who knows? I am still working on myself as it is, and I have finally come to admit it as well.
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors, that our lives had become unmanageable.
"For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out". Romans 7:18
Chapter 9: Para Mi Abuelita
"Todos los que hemos amado con nuestros ojos morirán en el momento en que perdamos la vista. Pero a los que hemos amado con nuestro corazón los hacemos inmortales". - Shakieb Orgunwall
Este es un post un poco difícil de hacer, pero al menos quiero hacerlo. Para intentar liberar mi corazón. El 11 de octubre de 2024 falleció mi abuela. Era muy querida para mi corazón y estoy feliz de que ya no sufra y esté libre de su dolor. La muerte no es fácil para todos y cada uno tiene diferentes formas de afrontarla. Para mí, esta puede ser la mejor manera. Así que la destacaré un poco y reflexionaré sobre los aspectos positivos, para poder tener las palabras y los recuerdos necesarios para acompañarla.
Mi abuela era realmente una mujer especial. Es difícil encontrar las palabras adecuadas para describir el inmenso amor y alegría que trajo a todos los que la rodeaban, pero haré lo mejor que pueda, con la esperanza de poder transmitir el espíritu de su calidez y amabilidad.
Mi abuela tenía esta increíble capacidad de iluminar cualquier habitación. Ya fuera por su sonrisa contagiosa, su risa que se escuchaba desde el otro lado de la casa o la forma en que hacía que cada persona se sintiera la persona más importante del mundo. Tenía una manera maravillosa y sencilla de transmitir alegría, y era a través de las pequeñas cosas que causaba un gran impacto.
Le encantaba jugar y hacer diversas actividades. Tenía una manera de hacer que todo fuera divertido, sin importar lo pequeño que fuera el momento. Le encantaba hacer diferentes actividades conmigo y mi hermana, como jugar a los bolos, jugar al minigolf o simplemente cenar juntos en familia. Y creo que su positividad también la hizo increíblemente afortunada. Siempre ganaba en el bingo, las tragamonedas e incluso los juegos de mesa. Siempre me costó mucho ganarle al parchís, pero aun así nos hacía sonreír.
Pero lo que más destacaba de mi abuela era su amor por la familia. Tenía una conexión con el mundo que la rodeaba que estaba arraigada en la forma en que cuidaba a los demás. Cuidaba a su familia con amor, paciencia y cuidado, y siempre nos atendía con la máxima atención. A ella le encantaba estar rodeada de su familia y nada la hacía más feliz que tenernos a todos juntos.
Siempre recordaré cómo me llamaba su “pequeña quidofrijola” y cómo esas palabras, aunque juguetonas, me hacían sentir tan querida y apreciada. Son esos pequeños detalles personales los que atesoraré por siempre, así como sé que todos tenemos nuestros propios recuerdos de su amor y de la forma en que nos hizo sentir tan especiales.
Su presencia fue un regalo y, aunque ya no esté con nosotros, su amor y su espíritu permanecerán con nosotros, siempre. Al recordarla hoy, espero que llevemos con nosotros su alegría por la vida, su amor por la familia y su aprecio por las cosas simples y hermosas, ya sea un jardín en plena floración o una sonrisa compartida en una mesa de juego.
Así que levantemos nuestros corazones en gratitud por haberla conocido y mantengamos su recuerdo cerca, sabiendo que de muchas maneras ella todavía está con nosotros, sonriendo, riendo y amándonos, como siempre lo hizo.
Gracias.
"Todos los que hemos amado con nuestros ojos morirán en el momento en que perdamos la vista. Pero a los que hemos amado con nuestro corazón los hacemos inmortales". - Shakieb Orgunwall
Este es un post un poco difícil de hacer, pero al menos quiero hacerlo. Para intentar liberar mi corazón. El 11 de octubre de 2024 falleció mi abuela. Era muy querida para mi corazón y estoy feliz de que ya no sufra y esté libre de su dolor. La muerte no es fácil para todos y cada uno tiene diferentes formas de afrontarla. Para mí, esta puede ser la mejor manera. Así que la destacaré un poco y reflexionaré sobre los aspectos positivos, para poder tener las palabras y los recuerdos necesarios para acompañarla.
Mi abuela era realmente una mujer especial. Es difícil encontrar las palabras adecuadas para describir el inmenso amor y alegría que trajo a todos los que la rodeaban, pero haré lo mejor que pueda, con la esperanza de poder transmitir el espíritu de su calidez y amabilidad.
Mi abuela tenía esta increíble capacidad de iluminar cualquier habitación. Ya fuera por su sonrisa contagiosa, su risa que se escuchaba desde el otro lado de la casa o la forma en que hacía que cada persona se sintiera la persona más importante del mundo. Tenía una manera maravillosa y sencilla de transmitir alegría, y era a través de las pequeñas cosas que causaba un gran impacto.
Le encantaba jugar y hacer diversas actividades. Tenía una manera de hacer que todo fuera divertido, sin importar lo pequeño que fuera el momento. Le encantaba hacer diferentes actividades conmigo y mi hermana, como jugar a los bolos, jugar al minigolf o simplemente cenar juntos en familia. Y creo que su positividad también la hizo increíblemente afortunada. Siempre ganaba en el bingo, las tragamonedas e incluso los juegos de mesa. Siempre me costó mucho ganarle al parchís, pero aun así nos hacía sonreír.
Pero lo que más destacaba de mi abuela era su amor por la familia. Tenía una conexión con el mundo que la rodeaba que estaba arraigada en la forma en que cuidaba a los demás. Cuidaba a su familia con amor, paciencia y cuidado, y siempre nos atendía con la máxima atención. A ella le encantaba estar rodeada de su familia y nada la hacía más feliz que tenernos a todos juntos.
Siempre recordaré cómo me llamaba su “pequeña quidofrijola” y cómo esas palabras, aunque juguetonas, me hacían sentir tan querida y apreciada. Son esos pequeños detalles personales los que atesoraré por siempre, así como sé que todos tenemos nuestros propios recuerdos de su amor y de la forma en que nos hizo sentir tan especiales.
Su presencia fue un regalo y, aunque ya no esté con nosotros, su amor y su espíritu permanecerán con nosotros, siempre. Al recordarla hoy, espero que llevemos con nosotros su alegría por la vida, su amor por la familia y su aprecio por las cosas simples y hermosas, ya sea un jardín en plena floración o una sonrisa compartida en una mesa de juego.
Así que levantemos nuestros corazones en gratitud por haberla conocido y mantengamos su recuerdo cerca, sabiendo que de muchas maneras ella todavía está con nosotros, sonriendo, riendo y amándonos, como siempre lo hizo.
Gracias.
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