Karma?

You get what you give
So I’ve been told
But it doesn’t always feel that way
It seems quite often that the equation isn’t equal
The universe demands balance
But there isn’t any to be found

You get what you give
They’ve said it time and time again
I believed it at first
But I’ve started to have doubts
The scale isn’t balanced
Hasn’t been for a while

You get what you give
Good begets good
Evil begets evil
It seemed a simple truth
But now I’m not so sure
Could it actually be more nuanced than that?

If that were true would there still be pain and strife?
Would only the evil get cancer?
Would the good be destined for a blessed life?
The universe is random, putting jumbled pieces together
It strives for balance
But it isn’t always attainable

You get what you give
That’s the way it should work
But it’s better in theory
As with most things in this world
Concepts that had been conceived from a pure heart
But ones that have been perverted by humanity

You get what you give
I wished I believed
But everyone’s so fucked up
For karmic balance, for utopia, for unity
Oh, woe is me. Oh, woe is me.
What’s come of humanity?

Finally Feeling Appreciative

All these years I’ve never really had an appreciation for nature. Birds annoyed me. Scenery was boring. I hated raking the leaves and shoveling the snow. But most of all, I just didn’t really like being outside. There was too much pollen, too much dirt, not enough things to do. Weak excuses, I know! I just wasn’t the most active kid. I would ride my bike around the neighborhood in the summer. And I would snowboard or tube in the backyard (or hit the slopes, of course) in the winter. As a family, we would go on the occasional hike or camping trip. But aside from that, I spent most of my free time indoors—I preferred to be in my room. 

Growing up, my mom used to take us to the library all the time. I can’t say what drew me in exactly, but naturally, I gravitated towards fantasy and sci-fi—that interest has only strengthened over time. That being said, fantasy being what it is, I spent many a day immersed in wild landscapes. Reading about forests and oceans. Over the hill and through the woods. You know, heroes embarking on adventures and all that. Which should lend itself to love and appreciation for nature, right? Wrong! I liked nature in theory, but not in practice. I wandered the deserts and the plains on the page, but couldn’t be bothered to do it in person.

Fast forward to high school. Some things changed, but many others didn’t. I remember reading (and writing) quite a lot of poetry all four years. It was my first love, even if I didn’t want to admit it for a long time. There’s one unit that’s still particularly vivid in my mind. It was the winter of sophomore or junior year, the entire term was spent reading poetry. We started with the Brooding Romantics, then we moved onto Transcendentalism, and we ended with a third movement that I can’t seem to remember the name of (Realism maybe?). As you would expect, many a poem touched upon flora and fauna, scenery and wildlife. Sure, each one was super descriptive, sounded great, and was beautifully crafted, but I never truly understood it. I could picture the scene in my mind, but I could’t see the appeal in it, or appreciate the beauty. Nature just didn’t seem to resonate with me. I tried again and again to see things from their perspective but I just couldn’t do it.

The fact of the matter is I just didn’t have much appreciation for life in general. I wasn’t one to count my blessings or see things with rose-colored lenses or consider the glass to be half-full. I was more likely to mope or feel sorry for myself or focus on what I lacked. My vision was clouded by my hurt. I had too much bitterness and resentment in my heart to allow for love to come in. And without love, there is no appreciation. I know that full well now. Without love, everything dies. Without love, there is no joy or happiness or peace. Without love, there is only pain and hardship and bitterness. Everything needs love, everything starts with love.

I understand that finding a romantic partner is particularly difficult for some. But that’s not actually what I’m trying to get at here. When I say that, “everything starts with love,” I mean that everything starts with self-love. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. I dunno what it is about our culture, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to be our biggest critics. We’re prone to self-deprecation and devaluing our worth. I suspect that oftentimes started out as a defense mechanism to protect us from bullying. “If I’m laughing at myself, then it means that they have no power over me.” But where do we draw the line? When does the self-deprecation go too far? When does it start to damage our ego and effect our self-confidence? I wish I knew the answers to these questions when I was younger. Perhaps my teenage years wouldn’t have been as rough. 

But as I’ve said before, we’re not able to change the past. Our trauma and our scars are a part of us, just as our passions and our interests are also. The good and the bad make us who we are. We can’t have strength without weakness. Positive without negative. Healing without hurting. That being said, my depression and my anxiety are a part of me. It’s a part of my history, but it’s also a part of my story. Even though I’ve found my healing, these are things I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Depression isn’t a thing that’s over and done with, it’s something I have to fight every single day of every goddamn year. Despite what it seems, acknowledging that doesn’t mean that you’re giving it power. But rather, that you accept and love yourself as you are: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your mental illness(es) are part of your story, but they don’t define you.

For a long time, that wasn’t something that I believed. Instead, I let the voices win. I bought into the lies that they told me. Youre worthless. Youre useless. You wont amount to much. It seemed that my depression and anxiety would get in my way at every turn. And so they did until I finally ended up in therapy. Life was quite dark for me, trapped beneath a cloud of despair. I’ve vowed to never return to that melancholic state, but it’s a daily struggle for me (and for people like me). That’s just how it goes.

I’ll have good months and bad months, good weeks and bad weeks, good days and bad days. Some days are easier than others, some days I can be strong in my resolve. Others are tougher. But regardless, I will still fight. Battles will be hard fought, but the war will never be won. But that doesn’t mean that I give in. I just need to keep picking myself back up, dusting off my shoulders, and continuing forwards. Instead of cowering like I used to, I stare down my mental illness and say, “not today, motherfucker. I am in control of this life, not you.” Just because I’ve been dealt that card doesn’t mean that I’m going to let it hold me back. Not anymore. The going has been tough, and will continue to be, but I’ll be better for it in the end. I only come out of this stronger. Better. Wiser.

So, as I grow older, the acceptance and love for myself also grows. And with that comes appreciation. Appreciation for the things around me. Everything that I’ve been blessed with. The good and the bad. My strengths and my weaknesses. The lessons that I’ve learned. The trauma from my past. The brightness of my future. But most importantly, I’ve finally started to understand the thing that never made sense to me before. I’m finally able to appreciate the beauty of nature. The birds chirping in the morning. The scent of flowers in bloom. A trek through the forest. A walk along the beach. The stunning vistas from the mountaintops. Life can be abundant, and full of joy. It can be happy and fulfilling. It can also be busy and stressful. So don’t forget to take a moment to smell the roses. 

(Scars) As the World Burns

Sometimes I just wanna see the world burn
See it ground to dust so I don’t have to live in it anymore
Watch as the palaces crumble
And see the wicked get what they deserve

Let the righteous perish
So that we can start the whole thing over
The good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent
Let them all meet their demise

What does it matter?
We’ll all be dead in the end
We’ll all get what we deserve

But is that any way to live?
Mad at the world, and hating everyone in it?
When did I get so bitter?
When did I get so angry?
When did I lose all hope for meaningful change?

How did I get this way?
Where did all this hate stem from?
The root of it is this:
I’ve been hurt far too much
For far too long

Felt mistreated and misunderstood
Felt like I didn’t belong
That there was no place for me here

I’ve held out hope that things would turn out better
But it feels like the same story repeating over and over
I find my place and then I lose it
Pushed out, forced out, weaned away

I try to get over it
I try to just forget
But it seems the scars have already cut too deep
I will move on, but I won’t forget
I can’t forget, it’s impossible to forget

My scars, they are a part of me
Sometimes they drive me, sometimes they fuel me
Sometimes they hurt me, sometimes they anger me

A part of me wants to see the world burn
A part of me wants to see the towers crumble
See the wicked punished
And see those who persecuted me set ablaze

But the hatred in my heart only hurts me more
The anger I feel only gets in my way
Best to try to forgive and forget
But that’s the hardest task yet
My scars, they are a part of me
For better or for worse
Sometimes they will fuel me
But sometimes they will hurt

Groundwork

One day soon things will come together
One day soon I will fulfill my dreams
But the day won’t come if the work isn’t done
The day won’t come if I don’t put in my all

Set the groundwork
Build a foundation
Put in the effort into doing it the right way
Start from the ground up
And build on from there
You can’t skip steps if you want to get to where you wanna go

Set the groundwork
Build a foundation
Start from the beginning
Or things will fall apart
Master the basics first
And lay the groundwork
Without a foundation the building will collapse

Set the groundwork
Build a foundation
Do it the right way, not the fast way
It isn’t a race
Do what needs to be done
Brick by brick, one thing at a time

Slow and steady won’t win you the race
But it’ll get things done
Set the groundwork
Build a foundation
Sooner or later you’ll get to where you wanna go
It’ll be enough to test your resolve
It’ll make you question if this is truly what you want

But it’ll be worthwhile in the end
You built from the ground up
You set your foundation
And it’ll hold you up in the end

Feeling My Age

“Act your age.” I’m sure everyone has heard that reprimand more than a few times in life. But what exactly does it mean? Is it even a reasonable thing to say? I’ll admit, this isn’t something I ever really challenged before. In truth, I didn’t challenge much when I was younger. Sure, I asked questions and let my curiosity lead me. But when an authority figure said something, I took what they said at face value. What were we supposed to do? We didn’t know any better, and we were always told to listen to and obey our elders. If what they told us was wrong, was it still in our best interest to do what we were told? The older I get, the more I wonder how many of the things they told us were misguided or flat out incorrect.

What can I say? Therapy has changed me. It’s made me more self-aware, and with that came learning how to self-reflect. I’m not able to look at things the same way anymore, no matter how hard I try. My perspective has changed, and I’m not the same person that I used to be. There was no point in fighting it, because it was inevitable. The more that I learned, the less ignorant I became. There was no possible way to reverse course. Once the door to wisdom and knowledge opened, there was no going backwards. It just wasn’t and isn’t possible. That being said, every memory or past experience can be and will be examined in a different light.

There’s nothing that tells me that I have to self-reflect on my own time. Theoretically, I could leave it solely to be done at therapy. However, it’s something that can’t be helped. I think a lot—that’s how I’ve always been. But just because I did a lot of it, didn’t necessarily mean that it was beneficial for me to do so. I had a tendency to overthink, dwell on the past, and fall into a cycle of loathing and self-pity, all of which is toxic energy. What I did was mull over things that couldn’t be changed. Instead of using my past to inform my future, I was reimagining the past by thinking of things I could’ve done differently. A wholly unhelpful exercise. It was thinking without action to follow, which is meaningless and wastes time. You can think over all the different changes you want to make in life, but until you take that first step towards actually doing something about it, your situation is going to remain the same. In order to live the life that you want to live, you have to take charge. 

Windows of opportunity can and will open up, but you need to pursue them and seek them out. It’s not often that things will just be handed to you. That’s not how life works. You’d have to be extremely lucky (or spoiled) for things to just fall into your lap. In order to be blessed you have to work towards those blessings. The life that you want is there for the taking, but you have to put in the work. It sounds rather obvious and intuitive. Why wouldn’t you work hard for the things that you want? But knowing it and living it are two different things. For twenty odd years I knew it, but I didn’t live it. It was something I knew on a surface level, but it wasn’t what drove me forwards in life. It didn’t resonate with me.

Not until I started working towards something. Not until I found my purpose and calling. Not until I found something that I’m good at and am passionate about. Not until I matured and grew up. I’ll be honest, I was a late bloomer—no shame in that. Each individual develops at their own pace, and as such, certain milestones are reached faster or slower, at different ages or stages of life. All of this is normal. Our variability is what makes us human. If we were all homogenous we’d be no different than robots, destined to follow the program that’s written for us. But that’s not who or what we are. We’re meant for great things, but it requires a certain level of work ethic, dedication, and perseverance—mental fortitude in short. 

Mental fortitude is something that’s developed over time, not something that’s taught or learned. Without it it’s easy to give up. It’s easy to back down when met with adversity. It’s easy to start believing the lies that we are told—the ones that tell us we’re not good enough, that we won’t amount to anything, that what we do isn’t meaningful. No one ever told me any of this outright, so where did these lies stem from? Yes, my depression and anxiety were both big factors in this. But I’m not the only one with this story. I’m not the only one who lacked self-confidence and had a warped sense of self-worth. I’m not the only one who struggled with the transition from childhood to puberty. I’m not the only one who had a hard time growing up.  

“Act your age.” A phrase that was seemingly innocuous for the longest time. I never thought anything of it. But I’ve recently come to the realization that a lot of what we were told when we were younger was actually quite damaging to our psyches, even if we didn’t know it at the time. What would such a statement do to an eight-year-old who’s misbehaving? What would it do for a pre-pubescent or a teenager who’s already having enough trouble finding themselves as is? Not a helpful phrase by any means, because, again, what exactly does it mean? If all individuals progress at different rates, then such a statement is inherently faulty. We’re left chasing a constantly moving target, looking to meet expectations that we’ll never live up to. 

It took me more than two and a half decades to finally break free of this. To finally stop living for other people, and start living for myself. I had let expectations and projections put a cap on my ceiling. Let what others said of me limit my potential. But no one knows me better than I know myself. I needed to do what was best for me. Starting with pursuing a career that was actually fulfilling, and seeking out the hobbies that I enjoyed. No longer worrying about how others perceived me, no longer feeling the need to suppress my true self. I realized that no one can tell me how I should live my life. Because when it comes down to it, not all advice is good advice, nor is all of it applicable to me. I take what works for me, and leave the rest.

So with that comes a time when I finally feel my age. For the longest time, I refused to grow up, refused to mature. Was just a kid stuck in an adult’s body. Acting, thinking, speaking the same way for all those years. I was stubborn and stuck in my ways. Knew that things weren’t working, but refused to try things a different way. I think part of it was fear—fear of failure, fear of disappointment, fear of the unknown. Part of it was being comfortable enough with where I was. And part of it was my anxiety telling me that I didn’t deserve any of it. Perhaps it was true that I didn’t deserve any flowers at the time. But it didn’t mean that I would never earn them. I just needed to try.

I just needed to find my purpose. Find my place in the world. And put in the effort to get to where I wanted to go. But most importantly, I needed to grow up and mature. None of which would’ve been possible if I hadn’t been forced out of my comfort zone. Nothing makes you turn into an adult quicker than being thrown out there into the real world. There comes a time in everyone’s life, when you find yourself at a crossroads. You can either keep acting the same way that you’ve always acted, or you can change, improve, and mature. You can either keep acting like a kid, or you can become an adult. At some point or another, you have to make the conscientious decision to grow up.

Writing. Plain, simple, unadulterated. I am a storyteller, an essayist, a poet, a writer, a thinker, a mental health advocate, a regular real life human being