I want a space to pour out some of my darkness. It’s fucking hard holding things in sometimes.
It’s perfectly fine to have wanted a normal life. Fuck normal, right? But not always, right? I think when it comes to how I grew up, it would’ve been ideal to have some semblance of normalcy. I’m conflicted. Life lessons from resistance are good things, but they aren’t always appropriate. Right?
I’ve become increasingly resentful recently, as I deal with some health stuff. You think you’re invincible when you’re young, but you realize that quickly changes as you get older. I reflect on how much hate I had towards my own body in the way I spoke to myself, but it was ultimately in the neglect. I hated myself because no one close to me told me I mattered and that it was good I existed. And, how the hell can you ever possibly love yourself when you’re surrounded by hate and despair. I hated the inner kid within me as a kid. But not in a bullying kind of way. It was worse I think. I was the kid that never left someone behind. When a classmate was alone, sad, or left out, I was there. I always felt the desire to include and approach. But I never included or approached that child within me who took every beating. The child who clearly needed someone to sit with them at lunch when no one else would. Or the child that quietly cried in their pillow and desperately needed a parent to embrace them. That child never got the chance to be who he was. That’s fucking hard.
I think children are entitled to a childhood; the opportunity to be children. They are entitled to a life where basic needs are met, without the expectation of repayment. Life was not a choice for them, so it is the price paid by parents. I also believe that children are to be shown or at a minimum, be exposed to love during their childhood. The versions of love one experiences are different, or at least manifest in different ways. But I could bet that if a kid was provided the opportunity to have a childhood where they can be fully who they are (as children) and their needs are met without expectation of repayment, then that child will experience love. I just think a child that is expected to be therapist, firefighter, a punching bag, a “perfect” student, a good friend, a good brother, a good catholic boy, a good son; then it’s pretty fucking hard to be a child.
I would almost guarantee that that child will grow up to be someone who hates who they are. I would almost guarantee that child becomes someone he never wanted to become. I would bet my fucking life on that child struggling to love or to be loved as an adult.
I think these thoughts are coming out hard, now that I have to “adult” a little harder…AND I fucking know there are folks who have had a tougher life. I know of people who are currently struggling in ways I don’t. But my god, can we please not normalize struggle? Fuck!!…I’m tired of being an adult sometimes, because I’ve been doing it almost all my life. I wish I was a child just a little bit longer. Creating, inventing, imagining as I used to. I miss my innocence. I wish I was a teenager with teen-age experiences and mistakes and joys. I wanted to discover real love on my own terms. I wish I had a college experience worth talking about. I’ve lived a pretty good life all things considered, and I recognize the joys within every step of the journey. But I’ve worked hard to nurture that. I forced myself to see those things amidst the shitty parts (and many of the “silver linings” came 15 years later! and are still coming). I went out of my way to pursue them so I wouldn’t suffer. And yes, good people filled with love came along. Okay, for now, I’m done with these rebuttals.
I (foolishly) wish I can reminisce about my childhood the way many young people do. Oh what a privilege it is. Some kids are left with memories and experiences, others are left with lessons. I’m conflicted on which option sounds better. I still believe that life happens for you versus to you, AND I also think that’s bullshit. There is wrong and right, and growing from adversity. But as an angry young man I’m tired of seeing it as a lesson. I think I can be pissed about it too.
I suppose the full circle moment could be when I have a child of my own. I yearn for those days, and surprisingly, I’m not too scared of them given the circumstances. I can never allow myself to exist in a world where they live a childhood similar to mine. And so the mission to relive a childhood in a way that I’ve never experienced, I believe, could be redeeming. How can you not be child-like when you live adjacent to a human who is living out the beginning years of their lives? I see fathers live adjacent to their kids in beautiful ways, in the correct way, and I can only imagine what that feels like for their sons or their daughters. I think a lot of parents live in the plane above their kids which I think makes it a little hard to see kids as kids from that space. And that tends to make adults out of kids at too young of an age.
I took a walk and became a little less angry.
I think my child-self was a fucking hero and I look up to him. I wish I can be as strong, as resilient, as creative, as beautiful, as brave, as aware, as patient, or as loving as he was. I want my children to grow up to be like that kid.
To resurrect that little boy one day would be a gift. To allow him to become who he wants to become. To provide him the gift of a childhood. To make dreaming and imagining safe for him to want to explore and be curious, and love and learn how to be human in his own way. To love and to show him that he is loved in the greatest ways I can present on this side of things.
…
That little kid has never stopped yearning for this kind of love.
…
…
I think things will be okay.