Granted. Some of you legitimately made it. I see you. You’re out there achieving goals, crossing things off of your to-do, short-term-goals, and long-term-goals lists and realizing your dreams. You have dope cars, to-die-for homes, and your kids are more talented than the rest because you can afford to finance super-expensive competitive sports and hobbies-and they’re blessed because of you.
You’ve killed it in the gym (I mean look at you! Mannequins standing at window displays at Armani Exchange are envious!) and you’re traveling to exotic islands and parts of the world that I quite frankly, can’t even pronounce. I often catch myself googling these places because I don’t have a clue as to where on the globe they are or that they even ever existed, and suddenly I begin to feel SO stupid and start educating myself about “the world” for like 6 whole minutes before I have to get back to reality.
I mean honestly, you have your shit together and I admire you am low-key jealous but still fully admire you. There is ZERO shade to be thrown at you. I am a fan of badass people and that’s what I like to surround myself with: contagious, toxic, poisonous fucking badass people. I believe that there’s enough pie in the world for anyone who wants a piece of it and I believe in supporting one another. I believe competition is an illusion and that if we simply do what we love genuinely and with passion, that there is no such thing as “competition”.
What I don’t believe in is destiny- that’s bullshit. Destiny is a fairytale we tell our children at night so that they can sleep peacefully. We are the ultimate creators of our paths. We choose each and every step that we take and the speed at which we take them. We choose which direction we will turn and whether or not we will pay attention to the signs the Universe sends us: stop! looks both ways! yield for others,! or GO GO GO! The resulting sum of all of our choices lead us to be who, what, and where we are/will be in life. To our misfortune, it’s all more easily said than done. I know everyone can relate to that.
But back to that group of you who “made it”. Chances are at 13, you weren’t experimenting with LSD or MDMA (simultaneously). Chances are, you lived in a nice neighborhood and your parents were still married (or were functionally-divorced and somewhat civilized). Chances are by the time you were a sophomore- you knew what you wanted to be when you grew up. Chances are you never witnessed any domestic violence at home.
Chances are, your mother never dared to call you a whore, or a worthless piece of shit-at the very least not out loud or straight to your face. And she damn sure never put a loaded gun in your hand at the age 15 and advised you to “go ahead and kill yourself”. Chances are, your father never left remnants of bullet holes in the walls of your home; the one place that what was meant to be your safe haven. Chances are, he never beat your mother so badly that she lost her front teeth, her soul, and her will to ever better herself as a human being. Chances are, you never received punches and bruises by trying to separate a physical fight in a desperate attempt to defend your mother from being knocked unconscious (again) and would later blame you for his actions anyways. You were barely 7 years old, by the way.
Chances are, you never had to lay in your top bunk at night with a cordless phone on a Friday or Saturday, ready to dial 911 because you knew daddy would arrive aggressively drunk any minute now, smothered in red lipstick and wrapped in the scent of another woman’s perfume that would pierce through your mommy’s heart like a million tiny knives. Chances are, waking up to a dead mother at the hands of your father, was the very last thing on the back of your mind every single night. Chances are you heard bedtime stories and got tucked in every night instead. Chances are you didn’t dread mornings too- when mommy was so emotionally shattered that all she did was cry, wish to die, and blame you for everything that’s happened to her. She’d tell you over and over that you were a mistake and that she wished you were never born. Chances are you wouldn’t be writing about this sort of thing 24 years later, when you the severity of what really happened from an adult perspective abruptly slams into you like a brick wall was launched from another dimension directly at your brain.
Chances are you were surrounded with love and you surely didn’t spend your childhood desperately waiting for a random hug. Or a thank you for being the one to feed your newborn brother in the middle of the night even though you were 16-17 and had school at 7 am the next morning. Chances are you never got home to multiple failed suicide attempts by the person you spent your life praying for and wanting to protect.
Chances are, you never ran away from home in the middle of a severe thunderstorm, finding yourself pathetically standing in a porta-potty in the middle of a construction site for so many hours that you just fucking gave up and went back home…only to find that the music was blasting and your mother and stepdad were too busy drinking and dancing to even notice that you ever left. What a waste of an effort considering that you looked forward to being beat for it. I mean, any attention was better than none afterall… right?!
Chances are, you didn’t dare drop out of high school a year early just because the “love of your life” did, and you couldn’t bare the thought of being separated. You would have rather died than to lose this person. And 8 years later, when that legitimately paid-for diploma hiding in your junk drawer was not even being accepted in the shittiest technical schools, you totally didn’t have to sit and take a GED exam in the ghetto. Not you.
Chances are, your first step-father didn’t also end up abusing your mother due to an addiction to meds, and your second step father did not end up being a disgraceful, disgusting , and manipulative monster of a child molester who was hoarding naked videos and images of you in your early twenties via hidden cameras in your room. consequently, your mom didn’t end up in jail…losing her business, and everything she ever owned or had over this either. Nah. Not you lucky bastards who were surrounded with structure and support. You had it fucking made and your probably didn’t know it yet.
This is for us 30-ish, semi-struggling, still-learning-lessons-the-hard-way, still-making-bad-decisions-daily, still-getting-our-shit-together, still-looking-into-going-back-to-college-but-how-the-fuck-because-I-have-a-full-time-job-and-kids-and-a-side-hustle, still-struggling-with-a-472-credit-score types.
This is for those of us who are still trying to figure out what the fuck “saving money” means and still live check-to-check no matter how hard we try because we weren’t lucky enough to have the kind of parents who sat down with us to discuss things like bank accounts, credit, loans, saving money, etc. This is for those of us who had to figure things out on our own the hard way, at a way-too-young age.
This one is for those of us who are making our jobs our careers, because at this point, moving up the ladder via experience and loyalty is just about our only shot in achieving stability and success in this fucking world. And that’s ok. Because we are the most committed of our kind. The kind that started from the bottom. The humble kind. This one is for us hustlers who know how to make something from nothing.
This one is for those of us who owe 35,000$ in college loans but have no degrees to show for it despite the fact that we spent 3 years in a community college, earned 300 credits, moved on to a university for 3 more years and again, dropped out junior year because who the fuck knows anymore and who the fuck cares anymore. No one does that’s who. This is for us who vomit knowledge and have a cultured education and don’t need a paper to prove it.
This one is for those of us who are parents/step-parents to 1 or a posse of kids and feel guilt every day because no matter how old our kids get, we still have no fucking clue what we are doing.
This one is for those of us who are too exhausted to have sex and sometimes have to force ourselves for the sake of not being cheated on because I mean, we may be tired but not fucking stupid or ignorant or blind. We all have needs. We’re all animals, after all. Does that make it ok for men (or women) to cheat? No. Fuck no. But I think I’m brave enough to admit that I get it. I understand WHY mean cheat on us. And I understand why we fucking stay. Because of our kids. But that is not good enough anymore. This is coming from an adult who has a child the same age as the child she ONCE WAS who remembers it all to this day.
This is for us- the dreamers who still dream the same dreams we had when we were 15. Or who still suffer the same nightmares we did when we were 15. Because we can STILL make them come true. Because we can STILL make them disappear.
This is for those of us who change our minds at least 46 times per day about any and everything in our lives. It’s ok. No one is keeping fucking count. Let’s keep changing our minds until we get to the decisions that make us stop needing to change our minds, eh?
You know damn well who you are. We are the ones who oftentimes hide behind our computer screens, daydreaming and contemplating the woulda/coulda/shouldas. The ones who are kicking their exhausted feet beneath the water with all of the will and strength within, while keeping a smile and a calm demeanor above water for the world to see.
I want you to stop and let this marinate: IT’S TIME TO LET IT THE FUCK GO.
Stop stressing if you have a pissed-on toilet thanks to your 4 year old son who needs more practice with aiming his thing. Stop stressing an embarrassing amount of dirty/clean (who knows anymore) laundry. So what if you overdrew your bank account. Again. For the fourth time this month. What’s done is FUCKING done honey. It doesn’t matter if you still rent. No one cares. At the very least, you are not homeless. Who honestly cares if you’re not an active member of the PTA or if you literally have no time to brush your daughter’s hair for school I mean- but did she die?
No one is concerned about the fact that you have no strength to cook a full blown meal and prefer to whip up some Mac-n-Cheese for dinner (just add sason completo…you’ll thank me later boo-boo!). The reality is- the world keeps rotating and revolving and the nights pass and the morning keep coming. The sea rises and storms pass us by and then the sun breaks through the darkness. Time will not stop. You cannot consume yourself with a traumatizing childhood. Let that child go. Tell that child, everything is OK now.
It’s all over now. Stop allowing the past to haunt you. You have got to rid of that extra weight on your shoulders. You have to stop killing yourself over things that you really can’t go back and change. Move on. Make it right through your children. Write a fucking blog. Share your wisdom and experiences no matter how fucked up you think they were. Help someone make better choices.
Be so raw and so real it’s fucking painful for people to read. Let them judge. Let them have their self-righteous opinions. Let them talk. KEEP. FUCKEN. MOVING. You are NOT a tree. You are the fucking WIND- so go flip umbrellas, and knock down branches that block off roads and cause a raucous, and lift skirts, and toss debris around, and make people uncomfortable.
Remind yourself every chance you get, that this is all temporary. The good, the bad, the ugly, the bliss, the success, the failure, the pain, the satisfaction-it’s all temporary. Forever is a rainbow that we can never reach, touch, or slide down. Eternal is a moment we will never live to experience.
With everything that I have been through in my life- I see clearly now that when things start to collapse right above your head it’s probably because sometimes, things MUST fall apart before they come together. Every morning that we wake up we are given a fresh opportunity to change. The universe awakens us every single day to a blank canvas, fresh brushes, and beautiful, vivid colors of paint in every shade of every color in existence. It’s up to us. We are the artists of our lives. We are the creators of our futures. Paint wisely. Paint wildly. Paint with intent. Paint with your hearts on your bristles.
This one was for all of us.