Original Material

As I lay there, scared of what I might see when I close my eyes... I steel myself by leaning on the truths that ground me. The ones that comfort me in the deafening roar of silence. But on some days, it's a struggle to keep things in perspective... Even with truths that I proclaim to have already seen.

This year has seen me lean on writing and journaling as important totems that help document these elusive truths. A lot of what follows are directly pulled from my journal. And hence, what follows is fluid in structure, tense and prose. Forgive me if it adds to your chaos but I sought for this to be as real as possible. An intimate vantage point to my struggles with mental health through the years.

One of my biggest learnings this year was that my process as a writer involved a lot of time waiting for things to become perfect. I found out that I extended this expectation to things around me too... an unfair one. So this post is also a promise I'm making to myself to be more involved in the process. To write without direction and be okay with it.

Writing, journaling and music help me keep my sanity. And my intention with this blog is to help people understand that this isn't something you face alone or internalize. While the experience of life is extremely personal, the process needn't be.

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Music is my one of my totems. You ever have that moment where a song feels like a missing piece you were looking for... to add to the faceless puzzle that is our lives? My music collection is almost exclusively defined by that process. Songs serve as catalysts that help me unlock emotions and truths; And sometimes conversely, to lock away and forget. The one that follows is one that has served as both as you will soon see.

So queue up Original Material by Colony House. You're going to want to listen to it after you read what follows.

Someone shake me wake me up Tell me I've been dreaming

I wonder if anyone shares the hope I have for waking up from reality one day. The greatest irony is as I look back at life, I wouldn't change a thing that has made me the person I am today. I have countless memories to look back at fondly, but I don't remember ever being explicitly happy in the moment. Is that a case of life always giving you what you need and never what you want? Is that a matter of perspective or a case of inexplicable luck?

Everything before and after haunts me.

You know the thing about people with trauma?

The past weighs on us. The future seems bleak. And we forget the present.

The seemingly quintessential cure to living. Being.

Tell me what's the meaning of these things that I keep seeing 'Cause I'm starting to get tired of spinning in a spiral

I feel entrapped by the idea of expectations. Either of those that people have from me or of those I have for them. Conditional love feels tiring and transactional. Unconditional love feels tainted by idea that people love the projection that I put up for their expectations. Would people still love me for who I am truly? Or will my inner consciousness never see the light of day and continue to haunt me from the shadows? My worth revolves around who I am to the people in my life. Why do so many people wish to help me? It had to be for who I am around them. The projection I put up to survive.

Held under the pressure like a Gravitron...

When I find myself alone, I find myself berating my tendencies to pursue failed endeavors. Why didn't you try harder? Why couldn't you be better? Can I not put aside my ego for once to become what people ask of me? Is that all that life is? Being something that people ask you to be? Does it matter because they care or you do?

So someone listen close and help me analyze this feeling

I don't see in color and white noise is all I'm hearing

Not being able to ignore the ringing in my ears, or the flashing images as I close my eyes... I try hard to remember the ultimate truths I know so far. The ones that comfort me in the deafening roar of silence. The ones that elude me when I need them the most. Sometimes, I wish I never had the perspective that paints life in such colors. I yearn for a life that's simpler. One that would have seen me be driven by less complicated narratives.

Yeah the doctor gave me pills and my momma's saying prayers for me

But nothing's working at all

Sure, we're getting help... how much is it the world wanting to listen vs them wanting you to be like them? Do they want us to be like them? Or do they want us to be ourselves?

My mother tells me of her acts of sacrifice, prayer and fasting that she's doing for my betterment. But when will she realize all I want from her is for her to pick up the phone and check in once in a while? How much of that is me imposing my will on her vs me letting her have her faith?

I don't want to just fit in with the rest of them I've got too much on my mind to be wasting any time Pretending to fit in with the rest of them I'd rather be original material

So much of this struggle comes from my inability to conform...

Is it really worth it? `

No one needed the burden of my demons,

or maybe they'd ask if they were really interested...

but until then, I can take it. I have to.

I crave safety in others but am braced for when reality shifts...

For when I taint the answer.

The solution has to be pure. Perfect, no? (this word again...)

Hope is a powerful agent.

I think it takes courage to face the truth that life is unforgivingly isolating.

Grappling that unshakable truth is moot; save for how long that truth sticks.

The more you struggle. The deeper the imprint on the harshness of reality.

The struggle makes you grateful for the simplest of things.

The struggle helps you find pieces of you that become essential.

To survive I found my totems.

My totems that make life worth living.

I am at a crossroads in life. Torn between deciding the person I want to be versus the person I should be. Trying to actively pursue my endeavors has seen me focus on what my inner being is pushing to tell me. The meaning of life to me right now is the intense process of self discovery.

Original material? What might that be? Who am I without this trauma? Would it matter?

When I was a child I had fire in my belly And love was all I needed to keep that fire steady

I struggle to forgive my past self for making that choice.

For sacrificing my childhood to be a pillar of strength.

I'm superhuman at being there for those that need me. When someone tells me something sad... I find myself eerily calm. Completely equipped to react with a scary propensity to internalize things. With an ability to direct the moment into a zone of comfort for the person on the other end, I operate with an eagerness to sign away even my basic demands to life. But I'm also hilariously crippled when it comes to dealing with personal demons. A lot was asked of me growing up; And I saw that I was the pillar to those that needed me. I needed to be this for their survival.

And somewhere along being that... I told myself that was the reason I survived too.

That I was nothing without my super-suit.

Yeah, I see the finger. He was a feisty one to say the least.

Yeah I use to be a dreamer

Hoper and believer The problem lied with how I justified it all,

I believed in karma as the covenant of life.

Do good and you shall be rewarded.

What a pile of horseshit.

Karma is real. You just can't ask for it to manifest where you want it to. All that matters in life is intention. My acts of purity were tainted by my ulterior motives and they let me down. Now, I chase what the world defines as vices with the purest of intentions and I feel content. Life sure likes it's irony.

When I look back at instances when I have been there for people, I find them tainted by my expectations from life. I mean a lot to a lot of people, and I would not take away one instance of me being there for them irrationally... but I hate myself for trying as hard to be there. I hate that who I want to be is tainted by the idea of who I should be. Self-hate and self-pity manifest as the snakes on my Caduceus; Intertwined and trapping, they whisper the toll I'd have to bear to use my powers of healing.

Now I need a natural phenomenon

To prove my intuition isn't wrong

I search for the answer.

By looking for stories like mine.

I'm skeptical that all of us were saved.

But I'm happy that some of us were.

I need my one moment.

A Catalyst. A Savior. A Lifeline.

An external moment that leads to a new lease on life.

A bullet to burn my cancer out.

I steel myself to bear it all for a little more. A compromise. A bargain. A promise to myself that salvation will arrive. I tell myself there would come a time in life when I'd be free of this guilt. A moment in time after which I'd be completely healed; Perfect, even (This word again, FUCK!).

So, I waited. But it never came...

... and then, her.

But she leaves. She has a right to her happiness. She has a life.

Being with someone is special because it is a choice.

... and then, him.

He's always been there. But he doesn't have to be. He might leave. It's the one good thing I have. How much more can this take?

... and then, them.

Why do they have me around? What is it that they see in me? How much of this is unconditional?

I realize, my perception of me is what's affecting my reality.

I keep measuring everything against the idea of perfection.

I'm holding myself hostage over the idea that I am flawed.

And manifesting this in those around me.

Do things last? Rarely.

Then why let the idea of what could be, ruin what already is?

What I've realized, is being vulnerable takes immense strength.

Stoicism and internalizing only adds to the hell whilst snuffing out any potential for healing and growth.

Was is it me that was ready to say help is okay?

That this is what I needed to do?

I don't want to just fit in with the rest of them I've got too much on my mind to be wasting any time Pretending to fit in with the rest of them I'd rather be original material

I have stopped being what people want me to be. It feels liberating. Like I can breathe again.

And looking back,

I think of all this time I've wasted hoping for my savior.

Oblivious to all those instants when a version of me was doing the saving.

When I already had my savior, but denied his existence because he wasn't worthy of the cape.

Bleh, capes are dangerous anyway. Especially with how often I take the train.

Yeah I know myself too well it's all a show and tell ""Why cant you be yourself man?"" ""Why can't you be yourself?""

You know the hardest thing about being human?

we are scared of what we're capable of. and not of what we aren't.

Saying I am enough... Comes with the understanding that I am capable of anything.

Does that mean I should have been the best version of myself throughout?

Is it enough that I'm trying now?

Who deserves a justification on why I have been the way I have been?

We are scared of what we're capable of. And not of what we aren't.

I don't want to just fit in with the rest of them I've got too much on my mind to be wasting any time Pretending to fit in with the rest of them I'd rather be original material for once

So, you heard the noise. and the music. A lot of these issues I don't have the answer to. And that doesn't make them any less daunting. But, I'm done letting it be just about finding the answers. or even about prescribing them. oops. guilty.

So in moments like these, where the ringing is loud, I've changed how I react. I find myself in my simple joys and safe spaces. I'll queue up a song, air out my thoughts or pen them down, check in on a friend, tell my parents I miss them, hug a loved one, compliment a stranger, catch my breath and go back out to face the noise. It has been a cruel world so far, so I am deliberate in saving some empathy for myself too. I look in the mirror and I see that the person I was bullying was the one that was doing the saving. So this year, I'm thankful I decided I'd rather be Original Material for once.

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What's a safe space, you ask?

I'll let you in on one of mine as an example. Into my most coveted one. The passenger seat of my brother's car. In a state of motion, music of choice, and without a worry about maximizing the moment. No thoughts on whether I can and should be better. Because in that moment, I am everything I am asked to be and nothing more. Safely original.

I'll let you go with a quote and a request...

"Life is about taking time to hit the right notes"- Ray Charles.

I'll request we take the time to hit the note.

That unforgettable one from the song.

As a gesture to thank the ones that fight for our survival.

Homage to the warrior within.

To our Original Material.

3,2,1...

Na Na Na Na Na Nanaaaaaaa...

Na Na Na Na Na Nanaaaaaaa...

Colony House Live. Crescent Ballroom, Phoenix, AZ. February 28 2020.