I Remember Everything
I didn’t forget any of it
People forget when they’re up. They forget where they come from and who they were. But I didn't forget. I remember what it was like to work all week for a $126.00 paycheck. I remember what hunger felt like when I’d scalp leftover food that people abandoned at their table in a restaurant or food court instead of throwing it away. I remember the smell of the dumpsters I searched through and the wet feeling of the plastic bags as I sifted for anything remotely edible.
I remember it.
I remember the cold in the park as I lay on a wooden bench or on the school fire escape’s iron where I slept when I was on the street. I remember the sounds of sirens and the burning in my lungs as my friends and I ran from the flashing lights.
I remember the pain from being under the boots of people who found my existence insulting. I remember the embarrassment of being fired from a job because I was homeless and had shown up to work after having slept in a boiler room the night before the escape of the winter.
I remember the smell of the dumpsters I searched through and the wet feeling of the plastic bags as I sifted for anything remotely edible.
I remember the confusion of having a friend pull a knife on me over a five-dollar bag of drugs. A bag I would’ve given him for nothing to begin with because he was my friend. My mistakes were mine to make.
I remember the anger of being betrayed by the people I would’ve killed for. Giving my loyalty to takers and respect to the disrespectful, second and third chances to four-time offenders. I’m learning the lessons.
I remember sitting alone on my apartment’s front stoop, waiting for my father on Friday after Friday. The phone call promised that this week would be different. This week he’d be there. This week I’d be able to tell him that my step-father was beating me and he could take me away.
“This week, I’d be saved,” I thought.
That week never came, and I remember it. I remember being abandoned over and over again by people I trusted. Every male role model clocking out from the part-time shift. I remember being left to figure out the world through my own lens at a young age. 16, rationalizing being on the street because it was better than being beaten at home.
I remember.
I remember being ostracized for my lack of experience. Being useless. Being the new guy who won’t make it. Being pushed to quit rather than guided and taught to grow. I remember being hated for my name. I was styled to honor a 22-year-old man who took advantage of a 15-year-old girl and then left her with the baby in a trailer park. The name I’d left behind when I turned 18.
I remember the darkness of the ocean at night as I worked my frozen, wet hands and body to the point of exhaustion. The Dredgeboat Captain shouted from above, forcing me to confront the dangers below as we built pipelines to mend the shore. I remember the hate I felt for the roads I’d taken. How I’d lived so many different lives behind one person’s face over the years.
I remember how I’d chosen to push my authentic self into a corner and allow a representative to take the reins. I remember him allowing the world to walk all over me.
How we walk through this world is a direct result of how we lay that foundation down.
Growing up, like everyone else, I found my way through mistakes and bad decisions to become who I became. Many of the mistakes were mine to make, but not all. Some were downstream effects of the environment I came up in, my genetic donors and their characteristics, and of course, our poverty level, amongst other things.
Those mistakes that we all trudge through in our youth are the foundations of our character. How we walk through this world in our later years is a direct result of how we lay that foundation down. Choices are made in life and mistakes are unavoidable. Life happens and it doesn’t stop coddling us when we run out of breath.
There are no time-outs or do-overs. No flag on the play to call a foul when a wrong has been done to you. Time keeps rolling and it will roll right over you the first chance it gets if you let it.
I remember all of that, but I also remember that I made it!
I remember how they broke me over and over again, but I rebuilt myself each time with scattered pieces and protective resolutions. I remember that the only person whose faith in me ever truly mattered was my own. I remember who I am and what I’m capable of enduring. I remember that the only thing I should ever fear is my own strength — my own resolve.
We’re all built from the choices we make, but also the choices made on our behalf. Life happens downstream for the young, and what happens on our way up can dictate our way down if we allow it. My best hope is to hold tight to the lessons and adapt to adversity. I remember what happened to me and how I made it.
