So my mom called me out of the blue the other day. It was a bit of an odd call. It was on 4:27 pm on a Monday, and she sounded somewhat frantic. It was quite strange. Maybe this was my fault. I had promised her recently that I would call her more often, but I had not been doing so. I’ve found in the past that if I did not call her often enough, that she would end up calling me at the randomest times. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it always seemed to be at a time when I wasn’t able to talk. This time I was able to, but I realized too late that I had picked up too quick. I had picked up after the first ring…

The way she started the call was a bit weird. She didn’t ask me how I was doing or if I was busy. It was none of that. Instead she asked, “so you’re done now officially?” Straight to the point I see. I thought about playing coy at first, but I realized pretty quickly that the jig was up. I couldn’t feign ignorance, pretend that I didn’t know what she was talking about. I couldn’t lie my way out of it, I had picked up the call before 5 pm on a weekday after all. All this time that I’ve spent talking and writing about being honest with yourself, and I’m going to lie to my mom’s face? Nah, that wasn’t going to happen. So I confirmed it for her, “yes, I quit my job.” As we all know, I’ve spent the last three and a half years healing, growing, and learning about myself. Becoming more confident. Not being held back by my fear. Progressing in my levels of self-care. Forming real relationships. Being honest. But I still can’t get myself to talk to my mom about certain things.

We still haven’t talked about the number of tattoos that I have. We had a brief conversation about it years ago, the time she caught a glimpse of my chest piece after my first session. This was in the summer of 2014 and she had told me to, “do something about the tattoo.” So what did I do? I got the tattoo finished, then I proceeded to get many more, and began scheduling sessions on the regular. When I go home I always wear long sleeves and I try to wear tighter sweatshirts so that you can’t see down them. But I’m not always careful. My sleeve rides up, my collar sags down. I don’t flaunt them as a courtesy to her. But we don’t talk about it. She has to know that I have a number of tattoos, there’s no way she doesn’t. So I know that she knows. But no, we don’t talk about it. I have not verbally confirmed or denied the existence of my tattoos, and she has not asked. It’s a tenuous secret, but a secret nonetheless. 

Another thing that we didn’t talk about for a long time was my loss of faith. The fact that I had stopped attending church for five and a half years. The news didn’t come out until around year four of this intermission. Every time I went home to visit I either went to my friend’s church and didn’t pay attention; or lied and said I was going to church but didn’t; or made up an excuse to drive home early on Sundays. But we didn’t talk about it. I don’t remember how it came out or when, but I do know that it was during a time when I was having a mental breakdown. Par for the course in those times. I was not mentally healthy or emotionally stable back then. 

Nothing new here, but I used to numb myself with whatever I could find. Cigarettes, weed, alcohol, it didn’t really matter. I needed a vice to get me through the day. We didn’t talk about it. Neither of us acknowledged its existence. But she had to know about the cigarettes. My car stunk. Flat out. No matter how many air fresheners I used. I thought the cigarette stench was quite obvious; the smell was stuck in the seats. But maybe I was just too close to it. I knew that funky smell for what it was, so my nose set off alarms. But then again an ashtray smells like ash no matter what you burn. Either way, nobody ever said anything. We didn’t talk about it. That’s how it was. That’s how it’s always been. There are certain things that we don’t talk about. Ignorance is feigned on both sides. We don’t acknowledge its existence so we pretend like it doesn’t exist. Not healthy, I know. But all bad habits are hard to break. Some more difficult than others.

Growing up, I was always a mama’s boy. My dad had always been aloof, in his own world. He came home from work, ate dinner in silence, watched TV, and went on his computer. He never really talked much. That was just how he was. But I had misjudged and mischaracterized him for much of my life. I used to think he didn’t talk because his English wasn’t very good. But that wasn’t it at all. He has a slight accent, but his command of English is superb, especially in written form. I only realized a few years ago that the reason why he doesn’t talk much is because he processes things differently. Instead of jumping from subject to subject, my dad is much more analytical. He doesn’t conduct conversations like us millennials do, as well he shouldn’t—he’s in his 70s! He doesn’t say anything unless it’s profound. Unless it brings meaning to a conversation. He’s not one for small talk, and he’s not one for superficiality. There’s good and bad to be had from this. The good being that I don’t get caught in meaningless conversation with him (I’m not really a fan of small talk either after all). The bad being that sometimes I don’t know what to say to him or how to approach.

And that was the crux of it. For sure one of the reasons why my mom had called. I had told her previously that I was planning on quitting my job, but never confirmed with her when I had. I had gone home to visit for Christmas. At the end of the week, before I was about to return to New York, she pulled me over, and we had a quiet conversation, just the two of us. She hadn’t wanted to blow up my spot, so she wanted to talk privately. Something she told me during this conversation was, “think about how you’re going to tell your dad.” At first, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to tell him. I didn’t know how he was going to react. It’s very hard to read him sometimes. But not saying anything would be unnecessary dishonesty. I thought about what I was going to say, I really spent some time doing so. But the words just wouldn’t come to me. Five weeks after my last day of work, and I still didn’t know what to say. So the words were left unsaid.

So my mom called. She had waited long enough. She wanted to confirm. Wanted to be able to share the news with my dad. On the one hand I’m relieved that I no longer have to try thinking of the words, but on the other it feels like a missed opportunity. A missed opportunity to get to know him a little bit better. All because I was trying to avoid an awkward conversation. We didn’t talk about it, because that’s how it’s been. I never really talked much with my dad in general, and I never broached difficult subjects with my mom. Why would it be any different now? Again, it’s hard to break a habit when you’ve been doing things the same way for so long. But I’m working on it.

There are certain things that we’ve started to talk about that we didn’t used to talk about before, and there are certain things we used to talk about that we don’t talk about anymore. You’re inevitably going to come across both cases, you just have to find the balance. There are certain things that your parents need to know about, and there are certain things that you know you’ll never see eye to eye on. It’s up to you to determine which subjects require a discussion, and which ones you skirt around. My parents needed to know about my depression, my anxiety, my mental health. We talk about that now, because I’ve found my healing. I no longer keep my emotions locked up. They needed to know, others needed to know. I needed to find a release. It’s a parent’s duty to worry about their kid, it’s part of the job description. They can’t help themselves. A child’s duty is to minimize the amount of worrying their parent does over him/her. 

And I guess that was my main concern. I didn’t want my dad worrying over me excessively due to my lack of income. I didn’t want him being scared for me. I had already torn him up a few years ago when “The Incident” precipitated my need for therapy and counseling. I’ve alluded to my darkest day many a time, but we won’t get into that here (you’re going to have to look through past posts to find that story). I know it’s a lot of words to sift through, but where’s the fun in giving you the answer? I digress… I didn’t want to worry my dad, so I said nothing. But if you don’t tell your parents how you’re feeling or how you’re doing, how will they really know? Your emotions and attitudes are not nearly as evident as you think they are. Your parents, your loved ones, your friends aren’t mind-readers. Unless you wear your heart on your sleeve at all times, sometimes you’ll have to tell people, as showing them is not enough. Even then it’s probably not enough. What we think is obvious, may not actually be obvious to other people.

My parents didn’t really know there was something wrong with me. For 27 years. They had no idea because I never really told them. I remember I had a handful of arguments with my mom in high school where I sort of hinted at the fact that I had issues, but I never laid the cards on the table. I never voiced my impediments fully. I never said what was bothering me. I shelled up and pretended like everything was okay. I hurt inside but I couldn’t let the world know. I wouldn’t let them know. No one really wants to admit that they’re broken. Most people would much rather act like nothing’s wrong, than deal with their issues. Cause dealing with your issues is hard work. It’s grueling, it’s heart-breaking, it’s tedious. But it’s worth it.

Life is easier when you’ve found your healing. Finding your healing is the first step to having a great life. The tough days aren’t as tough when you take it one day at a time. Whenever you’re feeling down, whenever you have a bad day, just remind yourself that, “you’re just having a bad day in an otherwise great month, great year, great life.” Everyone has their ups and downs. Everyone has their bad days. But you have to find your balance. Don’t get too high, don’t get too low. If you do that, you avoid disappointment. You don’t let the outside influences affect you too much. The circumstance doesn’t determine your outlook. Finding yourself gives you more control over your life, but it also requires ceding control.

Contradictory, I know. But hear me out. The road to self-discovery requires doing things that are outside of your comfort zone. Thinking outside of the box. Seeing how you do things, and realizing that there’s always a different way. Whether or not it’s better is something you have to think about and determine on your own. With that comes an understanding between who you are, and how the world works. To find yourself, you need to find out what your role is in the world. Find out how you fit into society. What you can contribute. Without that understanding, you won’t be able to progress very far on your journey. Once you recognize where you could potentiallyfit in, you can start to find out who you are, and know what you can give to the world. Given this knowledge, you can work on finding out what you want from life. You can’t go wrong if you have these things in place. But if you don’t, you’re just giving to the world and getting nothing back in return. That’s when life starts to feel meaningless. “Why should I contribute to society if I get nothing back?” “Why should I be generous?” “Why should I care?” These are questions you may start asking yourself, because you don’t understand your role. You don’t know where you fit into the bigger picture. 

You’re lost. Floating around aimlessly as I was. I didn’t know how talented I was. I understated my self-worth. I didn’t know that I was important. I didn’t know that people valued my opinion. I didn’t know that I was loved. I wasn’t aware of who I was and I didn’t know where I fit in. I was lost at sea without an anchor, with nothing to stabilize me. I was without a compass to guide me. I was directionless and adrift. Feeling the effects of wind & wave, drifting farther and farther from the shore. I was easily influenced, my opinions could be swayed. My career trajectory was not looking good. Because I wasn’t honest with myself. I hadn’t explicated the relationship between Justin and the world. I hadn’t highlighted the potential position(s) for me in the community. What I thought I wanted was not what God had in mind for me. What I thought I wanted turned up empty. Because that’s not where my talents lay, that’s not what I was passionate about, that’s not what was meaningful in my life. That’s not where I belonged.

Each day was the same as the next, with not much to look forward to. I hadn’t set goals for my life. I didn’t know what I was looking for. But more importantly, I didn’t know what I could give. I didn’t know what I was capable of, because I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t love myself. I didn’t think myself worthy of… Well anything. My life felt like it was out of my control. I felt like I was being railroaded into something. But what? I didn’t really know, but it wouldn’t be anything good, I was sure of that. Turns out I ended up at a dead end job. With no prospects in life, no hope. Because I hadn’t worked out the relationship between me and the world. I hadn’t found a niche. I didn’t know where the opening was. 

But I wasn’t looking hard enough. The answer to my questions was right there all along, but I looked everywhere but right at it. First I thought my answer was in music. Then I thought it would be found in marketing or sociology. I went to business school cause I thought it would make my parents happy. I chose sociology because I was interested in people. But neither of those were it either. They interested me, but they didn’t light a fire. When I graduated from college I didn’t choose my first job. I took it because it was the easy option. I had an internship, and I decided the best thing for me was to see if there was a full-time position. I was told that sales was where the money was at, but I never saw any of that money. I was great at customer service but I didn’t love it. I was left with broken promises and jilted into limbo. Stuck between customer service and sales, and given the worst of both. I felt okay, I felt content for a time. But eventually the pressure began to wear on me. The toxicity of the workplace slowly began to creep up.

I didn’t heed the warning signs, and I suffered immensely as a result. If something tells you that what you’re doing currently isn’t what’s best for you, you should listen to it. If what you’re doing doesn’t make you happy, it doesn’t make you feel satisfied or fulfilled, then it’s not for you. It’s not what you’re meant to do with your time and your effort. When we’re younger they like to tell us all the time, “do what makes you happy.” But they don’t actually mean that, not exactly. It usually comes with the caveat of, “as long as it makes you money.” If money is what makes you happy, then by all means pursue it. Otherwise that type of thinking holds us back from pursuing our highest calling; from making the best use of our skillset; from finding our purpose. It puts an invisible cap on our pursuits; sometimes we don’t see it and are left scratching our heads, wondering what it is that’s holding us back. Do whatever it takes to avoid that kind of disappointment. Do what makes you feel happy and fulfilled, and don’t let anything get in the way. Pursue your passion and give no fucks along the way. Don’t let anyone fuck with your purpose. Don’t let anyone or anything get in the way of your happiness. Not even yourself. Don’t bog down your own path with excuses or feelings of inadequacy. You have talent, you just need to find it. But you have to know yourself first. 

Discover who you are. Find out what you’re capable of. Unearth what it is you can contribute. I’m not going to lie. I had a hard time, for a while, recognizing any of this. I was perpetually lost but I didn’t know it at the time. The way I was living my life was not conducive to finding my way. It was highly improbable if not impossible that I would find what I was looking for. But I didn’t want to believe it. Looking back now, I’m not even sure how I was content with leading such a dark existence. I didn’t do anything for myself because I didn’t love myself. Everything I did was for other people. I wanted to be a people pleaser, but I don’t think I was doing a very good job of it. I was a hard worker, but my apathy was showing through. Because I didn’t care about what I did. I wasn’t making an impact on those around me because I wasn’t doing what made me happy. I was doing something that I was good at, but one without a clear path to growth. Onwards and upwards is something that I say a lot now, but it was not one of my mantras back then. I had allowed myself to stagnate. I had allowed myself to lose any momentum that I had had coming out of college. Being good at customer service would lead me nowhere because it made me feel empty inside. It was worthless toil.

I was not in control of my life, or at least it didn’t feel that way. And there was a very obvious reason why. I didn’t do things for myself or try to help myself. Everything I did was cause I was trying to maintain an image. Show to the world what I thought it wanted to see. I let the world dictate to me how my life would go. No wonder I was depressed; no wonder I felt like life was meaningless; no wonder I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know how I fit in. I didn’t know what I wanted. And I didn’t know what I was capable of. I won’t tell anybody how to live their life ever, but take it from me. This mindset will only lead to darkness and emptiness. Stop giving a fuck about what other people think. Stop listening to what people tell you to do with your life. Figure it out for yourself. Do what’s best for you. You’ll live a more fruitful life that way.

Sometimes you just have to take control. Take command of your life. Do whatever you can with what you’re given. It means controlling what you can control. Taking the reins, and not letting fate decide. Your attitude, your behavior, your mindset. What you do, what you say, what you make. Those are all under your jurisdiction. Those are all things you can change, or things you can keep the same. But regardless, all of that is up to you to decide. How you act, what you do is your decision. Nobody can take that away from you. You have free will. Your life is just that, your life. If you’re letting outside influences dictate the decisions you make and your career trajectory you’re no longer living your life, but rather one manufactured in a certain likeness. A likeness that doesn’t resemble the way that you should be shaping it. Your life is a clay ball, moldable and loose. Shaped in the way that you make it. When you’re younger you need a guiding hand to show you the basics of what you’re trying to build. But as you get older, you no longer need a chaperone to tell you what to do. Take control, and make this life your own.

But know that taking control of your life doesn’t mean that everything will go according to plan. More often than not, things won’t go the way that you anticipate. That’s just how life goes. Each person is responsible for their own actions, and their actions alone. Things will happen. People will act differently than you expect them to. Obstacles may impede your path. All you can really do is work on yourself and work on your craft. You may be able to overcome the obstacles, you may be able to avoid them. Just know that life will throw things at you. The growth and maturity that you show at the end will speak to your character. This is where you cede control. Life will happen, fate has certain things in store for everyone. Let them happen. You are stronger than anything that comes in your way. Control the controllables, and let the chips fall where they may. True, life may feel like a story sometimes, but I assure you it’s not. There are many things in your life within your control, but unlike a story spun by the storyteller, the story of life will not play out entirely according to the script.

Case in point, this post. This post went a bit off the rails. Truth be told, I did not end up saying what I intended to say. But that’s just how it goes. Unfortunately it’s getting a bit long. I’m not going to add a couple thousand more words just to alter the message or dilute it. I will save my words for another day. So stay tuned. Just know that you are incredible. You are capable of great things. You just need to find who you are, find what you’re capable of, and find what you can contribute to others. My mom and I didn’t talk about certain things when I was growing up, but maybe we should’ve. I would’ve had a better understanding of who I was and how I fit in. Don’t let certain words be left unsaid. Talk to your parents, talk to your family. Let them know how you’re doing. You’ll all be better off for it.