I’m season one A-train. Running at full sprint away from everything I should be.
I’m too fragile to be a man. I grew up in a space that taught me men shouldn’t show emotion. Closed fists and razor sharp tongues were the way problems were solved. Bricks flew through windows. I knew beatings before I knew tears. But ironically it has made me all too sensitive as a young adult. How can I always be one bad remark away from breaking down, but afraid to show emotion. I use to carry nonchalantness as frequent as I carried my school backpack. Now my tears are ‘on-go’ from any setback or step backwards.
As a kid I defined manhood as a closeness to God. All the male role models I had were “men of God”. My grandfather and Bro. Vaughn and Brent. But the older I get the more I see that those so called Men of God only claimed that title to save themselves from troubled pasts. Their closeness to God was sometimes a facade. My closeness to God feels like a facade. How could it not be? I call out and hear no answer. I don’t want to be the kid that only calls on their Heavenly Father when they need something. But yet it seems like I’m stuck in a state of need, so under what other premise can I pray? I try to give thanks in all moments. I try to carry a Godly borrowed strength with me. Because I’m too far from God and too fragile to be a man.
If a man fails to live up to his boyhood definition of manliness does that make him not a man?
Please have mercy on me. You have my tender heart in your pretty hands. Don't YOU DARE squeeze it dry. I'm turning my back to the insidious side.
Please take mercy on me. Place your love where I hurt most. I’ve felt alone for too long now. When I went wrong where did all the love go? The show goes on and you still hold the remote. Every that glitters from you is truly gold. The world’s most beautiful soul.
Please have mercy in your heart. I know loving me is hard on most days. I’m on a path of constant growth. Let’s rush into the now so we can take the rest of our lives so slow.
The seasonal change is about to bring a new chapter to me.
My spirit is calming. Summer 2023 splintered my soul. I only say splintered because I caught myself right before it broke. Right before it was too much to handle.
I was living like my phone i’m ngl. If you know me know me. You would know my phone stays below 30%. And 8/10 you look at it… my battery will probably be red.
That was me… on red… but now I welcome the red. There’s warmth peaking through the coldness. The storm is breaking. All the pieces of my soul that were ready to crumble are healing like a scabbing wound. The red’s not that bad. The weather inside me is settling. My sea’s aren’t as full of rage. They’ve stopped churning and now i enjoy the ebbs and flows of my tidal range. The red feels doable. And as the leaves will start to redden around me. I feel as though my reds will soon turn green.
I would always say writing was the bests solvent. In every poem i write or post i share there’s a chance a part of me is healing. There’s a piece of acknowledgement writing gives to my struggle. There’s a piece of pain i release…
That’s why i’ve been active. I’ve needed this avenue of release more than i have since 2013.
The reunion between me and the depressive ways of 18 year old me was obviously not a welcome piece of my summer. But i view the growth i’ve gotten from this period as the most valuable lesson i could’ve learned.
Now i work to only heal not only my present self, but heal the younger me that ran away, that hid, that went unheard. I unpack the rucksack of my damage and release all excess baggage. I find blessings within the curse. I pray goodbyes to some of the most mangled pieces of the me that wander the labyrinth of my troubled mind.
My previous season was red. Red flags… Low batteries… Anger. Everything that screams STOP!
In particular I had fallen into a pattern of unhealthy comparison. And maybe that was the most natural path for my then lethargic existence. Maybe thats what my tired soul was dragging towards based on what was going on in my life. The easier way out was to self destruct.
I was scared at how disposable I was being made to feel. Distraught at how much self worth I was losing over the situations that were beating me down. I was tortured…
Not only by 3am becoming my most productive hours again. But by nightmares and panic attacks and breakdowns that I had either never went through before, or I hadn’t known past repressed memories.
I was also torturing myself.
I would sit and wonder what I was doing wrong. What was wrong with me? Why I even believed I was worth what I was telling myself I deserved.
All the feelings that the scared, lonely, weird, little boy i was growing up use to feel. All the feelings that being at the bottom of the social ladder all my life brought me. All the feelings I guess I never truly overcame.
And when they came back they came with vengeance like Kendrick’s entrance on the Heart Part 2.
One of the main reasons I stay off most Social media is because a part of me always knew that my younger self was still damaged and hiding. And I need the space to being okay with being me. Without what the apps do to my mental space.
Unfortunately, Summer 23 gave me little choice but to sit with the negative feelings of being “ Less than” anyway.
I found my demons would be Whispering all the negative thoughts that I never got to escape.
I always “just kept swimming”. I ran… I hid…
All throughout my 20s. I hid from my insecurities. I hid from God. I hid from my ambition. I hid in hopes my mediocre ways could outshine the me I was trying to forget. But then that damaged me made a 2016 Cleveland Cavs comeback.
This following image is one of the milder notes in my phone from summer.. and as raw as I’ll get with it..
I’ll let the reader fill in the blanks with what they think came next.. but just know it got progressively WAY worse the more i slid down the rabbit hole of self-Hatred.
So now… a month and a half on from that particular note am I doing better?
I’d like to think so. The comparison has died down.
I still feel alone and abandoned. More lonely than maybe I’ve ever felt. But it’s a feeling I’m allowing to drive my new found desire to get closer to a better version of me. Closer to a version that loves David Simmons in his entirety.
A version where none of me has to hide away. None of my previous chapters need to be redacted so that 28 year old me FEELS like I’m okay.
And tbh. Some days I’m not.
So I write. And I stay up as late as my mind tortures me. And when I do find solace, I still toss and turn the night away. And wake up in nightmare induced sweats. And I listlessly drift through everyday life. And my only interactions are WhatsApp messages, Good Morning to bus drivers, and hazy-minded lecture participation.
And the weight on my shoulders feels like something I’m not apt to handle.
But at least the comparison has stopped… Cause that shit will do nothing but eat me alive. And My shit is looking like its on its way to being put back together.
I’ve mentioned Hyakkimaru a good three times this week but hear me out. Something about a young man regaining stolen parts of his body by slaying demons seems fitting for me.. at this moment.. NOW. Today.
Maybe October and “spooky season” will bring a Dororo rewatch.
Once again. At least the comparison has stopped. And i champion myself for that because thats a huge fucking win. And a big step into finding myself again.
As I stood at the precipice of my downfall into the grand canyon of my depression I reached out to grab whatever parapet I could find. Fully expecting nothing to be there and for my fall to be long and harsh and bruising to my already battered essence.
And maybe by no strength of my own.. Be it big ‘G’ God … or my desire to hold strong for the one I love most in this world… I managed to grasp on to the strongest barrier of comfort I’d ever felt in my life.
The most reassuring feeling that I was strong enough to get through took over me when I was at my lowest. Something shifted in my cells. My atoms vibrated at a frequency my earthly mind couldnt comprehend. Even this very moment, writing about it I just don’t understand why God chose to comfort me, one of the fallen ones.
But more or less i felt an angelic hand was placed on my shoulder. And not metaphorically either…. I actually felt/ imagined that there was a hand in my shoulder while standing at black bay. And things in my spirit grew stronger.
And I called upon the me’s that were happy… 2016/17 me… Spring Sushi me.. even NYC trip me.
I called them to the surface and asked for their help to comfort the little, hurting, damaged boy that we were falling into again.
And we work on it. Daily…
bit by bit. Centimeter by centimeter. Statement by statement. Post by post.
Even in my shortcomings and days where I depression nap my afternoon away. There’s still some beauty to be found in this part of my journey.
There’s still no pressure to be healed right now, Today.
And i find gratitude that each day is a clean slate. Raleigh taught me that…
Each day i have a chance to reach past whatever held me down the days before. So i’m reaching.
And with every handful of life I catch in my reach… i reflect on whatever cards the universe grants me in this grand ole’ toxic ass game on Uno we call life.
As i look at the cards in my hand today… i’m excited…My grandmother Corliss always told me “play to win” …
So like Yugi i trust in the heart of the cards. And think about how i’ll start to play them….
Now this my friends. Is where the fun begins….
p.s:
Insomnia just comes with the pain, why cant you embrace it? The nightmares will continue to plague you, just be okay with the taste of ‘em. You just gotta remember that you’re still finding a place in this. Empty out your expectations, and be okay with living in the “break” in the margin of the ‘make or break’ of shit
It gets easier. The winds of turbulence that troubled your summer… will turn into the winds of Grace that sail you into the beautiful blue skies of a healthier you.