It’s been a rough start to my 25th year of life, and with that, being forthright — it hasn’t been an easy 25 years for me.
In recent time I’ve apprehensively accepted that I am a writer. I chose the word “apprehensively” because I, more often than not, lack greatly the confidence to admit when I am good at something. I am in no way stating that I am a published author or anything, but simply that when I convey things through written words, it’s often better than what I had expected; the responses are typically positive.
Somewhere along the strand of these 25 years I’ve unknowingly convinced myself that my talents are non-existent, and that a great talent alone cannot possibly be had by me. If I am being truthful, though the truth can be unsettling —
I’ve knowingly convinced myself that I am utterly unremarkable.
I’ve realized that with writing I can not only momentarily calm the chaos of my seemingly quiet life, but that I can also give voices to the many people who know what a damaged heart and mind feels like.
My hope is that I can say what someone needs to hear.
If it so happens that my vulnerability with the words I choose to reveal about myself comforts another human being — then my discomfort in being exposed is put to ease and well worth the distortion that may occur in many’s eyes of the image I portray.
Though my self doubt is prevalent, I am not ignorant. I fully understand that with life, both yours and my own, comes unwanted, unnecessary, and unexpected experiences.
I’ve been quietly aggressive, but only because without aggression I wouldn’t be able to express so eloquently the outcomes to which I often feel like I do not deserve; the outcomes of which has led me to be who I am today.
It is often said that we are the sum of our parts; the some of all of our experiences — good and bad. I do believe that we as living human beings are the sum of our parts, but it is what we choose to do those parts that provides the result of that sum.
When viewing someone’s life a common mistake is often made. That mistake being that: From the little you may know about someone, even if it’s a person you’ve yet to meet — an assumption is often made.
In this life there are many questions that can be answered by utilizing the scientific method, which I’m sure you, as well as myself, practiced in elementary school each year when we participated in Science Fairs.
I must inform you that all of your construction paper, Crayola markers, and glue sticks will be wasted if you try to depict upon that big white cardboard display who someone is, or even more so — who someone will be.
With limited evidence comes a faulty hypothesis, and the conclusion you get will never match what you expected. Expectations are often toxic, they’re man-made, and when it pertains to a life — they’re often extremely unfair.
What we can do with the parts that make up our sum can result in endless conclusions.
How do I know that, you ask?
Because I am an exception, a deviation, an oddity, a special case, a very small statistic — I am not even what I expected I’d be.
Am I perfect? No.
Do I have it all together? No.
Am I asymptomatic to what all has happened? No.
Am I okay? Yes.
But if you were to take my life, and with little research try to gather who I should be — basically providing me with my destiny, do you know what your hypothesis would include?
Possible emotional and mental health problems, such as: Depression, anxiety, PTSD, dissociation, and suicide. Possible behavioral problems, such as: Extreme aggression. Possible academia problems, such as: Low cognitive ability, low academic achievement, dropping out of school, and loss of productivity. Possible to remain unemployed. Possible substance abuse problems, such as: Alcoholism and controlled substance dependence. Possible death due to overdose. Possible homelessness or living in shelters. Possible delinquency, such as: Acts of violence, being incarcerated in jail or prison, on probation, and gathered felonies. Possible teen pregnancy. Possible high promiscuous behavior. Possible professions in prostitution, stripping, and pornography. Possible contraction of various Sexually Transmitted Diseases. Possible obesity or eating disorders. Possible physical health problems, such as: Fibromyalgia, chronic headaches, reproductive, and sexual health complaints. Possible serious medical conditions, such as: Diabetes, cancer, heart problems, stroke, or hypertension. The list goes on…
The main result plainly would depict a high possibility to exist and not live.
I won’t lie to you, and I will admit that some of what that destiny holds are pieces that have been added to the sum of my parts. Regardless of what those pieces are, and regardless if most of what I just stated pertained to me,
I’m still a human being.
My heart breaks for the people who fall into the statistics in which devour one’s ability to truly live, and even more so — my heart breaks when one chooses habitualization over perseverance.
There are days where I wish for normality more than just about anything, but what results from that longing is a simple realization -
What I’ve done with the parts I’ve been given was unlikely, but in no way was it unremarkable. If it wasn’t me who did this, then it would have been done differently, and that I just couldn’t let happen.
I am intricate, yet captivating. I am a mess, but I am helpful. I make mistakes, but also have good intentions. I am a tough lover, but I am so kind. I am often bitter, but I am very forgiving.
My biggest flaw is that I worry, but I worry because I care.
I care because I’m caring.
I’m caring because I’m loving.
I’m loving because that is how I choose to be.
My conclusion: I’m just a broken little girl who lucked out big time. I cling to and lean on all of the good that’s happened in my life, and try my hardest to leave the bad, and if I cannot escape the bad — then I try my damnedest to make light of it.
I’m ever grateful and immensely fortunate.
I’m a survivor, and sometimes survival alone is captivating.
The meaning of this is to simply encourage people to be better than they want to be — change the curve — break the cycle.
It’s been scary and not easy, but I’m here, aren’t I?
I’m okay, and okay is enough.