The fight within!


 

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I met this kid through my survival, out of desperation job. Kids was high like a kite. One could tell he was moving through a fog. He said he was a heroin addict, one year sober. His demeanor told otherwise. There’s something about chemical addiction many can’t comprehend. The pull! What pulls you to this form of escapism? Where is the mental breakdown, the emotion letdown before one physically becomes possessed by a drug. You love and hate it at the same time. It gives and takes but you can’t let go. You love the high despite the fall, the breakdown you see at times when for a second it doesn’t take a hold of you.

You What do addicts try to escape from or run to through substance? For me, it will be life. Life has no meaning outside of love. Were it not for the love of my children I don’t want to be here. I don’t care to. I am left wondering, too often how people who don’t believe in causality, purpose, the God creation go about living! So you’re here out of a bing and a boom to do what exactly? Just to be? Or for you o define it yourself? Find yourself, make up something and then boom,  in another form of magic, disappear tom where exactly? The earth, the soil? But what if the spirit? What if that breath, your sense of reason, personality, what makes you, unique from the bang and the boom? Where did it go? First, how did it come to be? All these questions unanswered you find comfortable living with. Senseless to me. If we are here by magic and disappear by magic again, what’s the purpose for all this magic? It’s an INTJ trait to seek purpose I guess. In layman terms some of us can’t live without purpose and when there’s none we are lost. We can’t make sense of you bing bang boom folks, you can’t make sense of us the seeekers. Can’t seek if you’re okay with the big picture having no purpose and when you seek purpose, finding none as a seeker you’re lost. Thus, the escapes. Some do so with restraint (filled with distractions physical, emotional alike) and  others disappear within their escapes (addiction). They give away their restraint, preferring o be owned and controlled by something outside of themselves. They give up control, self control. I like the biblical notion that drugs and alcohol are spirits. Spirits have power. You can’t be in control when spirits take over, this one can see through vodou rituals. When you’re possessed, you disappear. You are a vessel for a spirit you have no control over once you allow it in. Open the gate and they’ll overflow.

What of addiction is so attractive? It takes the need for meaning, for something bigger, greater, better. When, if you can’t find it within or around you, it becomes everything to you. Addicts can’t handle what’s given, what is, ergo the need to retreat, give in then call it purpose.

 

What if I fall? But what if you fly?


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A dreamer or optimist thinks about the flight. A realist thinks about the fall and the flight. And when the fall brings consequences you’re unprepared for or don’t want to suffer through, they call you a pessimist.

 

Ive taken chances in my life out of sheer desperation, after weighing the risk of falling, whether I’d make it, how I’d mend and try again. None thus far induced flight. With every jump, a fall from which I’ve had to grasp, grab and hold so I couldn’t reach rock bottom, the breaking point. Until now!

I weighed the consequences of my fall. I chose to jump as high as I could because I was tired of living between surviving and despair. I wanted to live, thrive if I dared. I dared. I leapt and in the process I risked not just my life but losing my wings, my kids. I love my kids. One outcome, a consequence I wasn’t prepared for is ripping our union. I may lose my babies though all I was trying to do was fly.  For us.

 

Oh! Oh! Dear God! “Abba Abba lama sabachtani”. How can this be? How can it be that I’d lose everything I’ve worked for, tried to hold us together for me to lose it all? I’ve lived too long between desperation and survival. But this! I won’t be able to live through. My kids are my everything, the breath that I take. Life isn’t worth a thing without my kids in it. Not an iota of yield!

 

This is worse than risking my heart in romantic dalliances and these I’ve given up on since 2013. I took so many chances, wanting to believe that someday, this one or that one will be the one, a partner in crime and we would fly to the moon together. With each failure, after each mistake, a fall so horrid that would tear me to pieces.  By 2013, I knew I couldn’t emotionally, psychologically afford another leap.  I just gave up. No more dates. No more believing people’s promises and sweet nothings, knowing indeed, they were nothing, usually nothing but lies. How many puffed up lies could one handle before you realize you’re not good at sifting through bullshit no matter how forthcoming you are with others, or kind or sweet and giving. I had too much going on, in my life, needing all my strength trying to sustain my daughter’s, myself to veer my attention to people who brought me nothing but lies, pain, self-hatred and pushed me further down the abyss of despair.

Through all of those and more, my only reason for holding on to life: my kids. I was tired of losing and needed to win for them, just one win: see them through to 18 when I could set them free.

I don’t think I’lle able to part from them. Not now. Too soon. It truly isn’t worth it. I’m not mad enough to fly. I’m not made to try. Can’t even hold on when your wings have been clipped. I care nothing about anything besides my babies. Nothing at all.

Dear God! They are my wings!

If I could have you back


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I sit in the same spot where night turns into day and day into night as they slip under my windowsill. Awaiting God, time, the universe, all one and the same. I wait for what I’m not capable of doing on my own, dreading a handout here and there, the land of pity.

It’s neither a save haven nor a burial place as there too the voices are still loud and clear. There are expectations, responsibilities that don’t disappear just because God follows a different timeline. I seep into unknowing. I can’t get lost there but maybe I’d find more of me. Bit by bit, piece by piece I try to reclaim a self that’s yielding to uncertainty.

What I could do if I could! How I build and uphold! If nothing else, this message echoes all about: powerlessness is its own suffering. When you’ve run out of viable options that gave you a sense of control, over you, your circumstances, your destiny, who are you then? There’s no one to blame, anger solves not a thing and regret is a lack of accountability of your choices in response to unexpected, painful circumstances. Never that when integrity is the least and last compass you’re trying to hold on to.

Who are you when you can’t control your future? Dependent. You’re nothing but a dependent of serendipity, God, karma, the universe, energy, whatever it is you accept that makes the wheel go ’round and ’round.

For someone who lives by well crafted goals, plans, losing control is a tragedy. There’s something about faith best not forgotten. You don’t belong to you but the one who’s in control. Whatever the consequence and outcome, no matter how excruciating they may be or joyful they sometimes can be, you really can’t take the credit. Your will is adaptable to happenstance. Outside of consequence, circumstance, the will is worth nary a thing.

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Life in the horizon


 

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I sit in the same spot where night turns into day and day into night as they slip under my windowsill. Awaiting God, time, the universe, all one and the same. I wait for what I’m not capable of doing on my own, dreading a handout here and there, the land of pity.

It’s neither a safe haven or a burial place as there too the voices are still loud and clear. There are expectations, responsibilities that don’t disappear just because God follows a different timeline. I seep into unknowing. I can’t get lost there but maybe I’d find more of me. Bit by bit, piece by piece I try to reclaim a self that’s yielding to uncertainty.

What I could do if I could! How I’d build and uphold! If nothing else, this message echoes all about: powerlessness. It is its own suffering. When you’ve run out of viable options that gave you a sense of control, over you, your circumstances, your destiny, who are you then? There’s no one to blame, anger solves not a thing and regret is a lack of accountability for your choices in response to unexpected, painful circumstances. Never that when integrity is the least and last compass you’re trying to hold on to.

Who are you when you can’t control your future? Dependent. You’re nothing but a dependent of serendipity, God, karma, the universe, energy, whatever it is you accept that makes the wheel go ’round and ’round.

For someone who lives by well crafted goals, plans, losing control is a tragedy. There’s something about faith best not forgotten. You don’t belong to you but the one who’s in control. Whatever the consequence and outcome, no matter how excruciating they may be or joyful they sometimes can be, you really can’t take the credit. Your will is adaptable to happenstance. Outside of consequence, circumstance, the will is worth nary a thing.

On days like this


 

It’s Easter weekend and I feel what I always feel when the holidays come about. I’m missing out on life. I’m missing out on joy, the happenings. The house is emptied of the babies who more often than not stay to themselves. Their presence alleviates the weight of the missing however.

So, I go online, read others’ thoughts, enjoy the pictures of celebratory dinners, happy families and loving couples doing and doing, making and making: life.

Yes, holidays can be tough when you’re alone.

And then you realize that not everyone celebrates the same holidays or even care they exist. So on those days, you’re an infidel, betraying the spirit in you that wishes to share, celebrate, connect. On thanksgiving, you’re Canadian and head to the beach until sunset. On Christmas you’re Jewish and on Easter  you’re Muslim. It is quite useful, the ability to play with ideology and faith. Never an atheist though, too close to narcissism for one who believes there’s a power greater than the human mind and lives inside her mind, though many atheists do jump on the bandwagon for culture’s sake at times or for whatever reason despite their unbelief.

On this Sunday eve of Easter when one dies to make us one, I sit in my spot awaiting once more: providence.

PS: if ever you’ve posted on social media and people tell you not to or try to limit your thoughts, you or write who cares, remember there are folks out there who do care and do enjoy your updates. Some of us live solely vicariously through others. We exist and you my dear are appreciated so much more than the naysayers would have you believe. Keep being you, someone out there rejoices in you being you.

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