I met Michael In These Rooms. He is a 30-year black male drug addict, drug dealer and alcoholic. He says he began drinking and using seriously at age 22 when the woman of his dreams aborted the birth of his son without ever consulting him. He said “…I’ve had the barrel of a gun in my mouth behind her shit on more than one occasion. They’ll write on my tombstone, “Life for Michael has not been never happy, joyous and free…”
“Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor —
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now —
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair”.
Langston Hughes “Mother to Son”
Sometimes it’s not that we can’t heal but we are Afraid to Heal and don’t believe even a healed life is going to be any damn better or any crystal stair. We make peace with the status quo. We make peace with the shit from our past, the miserable shit we’re living thru right now and the shity dead end futures we’ll live into tomorrow.
“…I loved and hated my father. I respected him and feared him but I didn’t feel love for him and didn’t understand how he could be so hard on me if he loved me. I needed him to love me. There was this time these kids in the neighborhood ganged up on me and attacked me, calling me nigger and other hateful shit. When I got home and my old man saw the tears on my face and I told him what happened, he grabbed me and took me back to the home where the shit happened and threatened to kick the ass of the man whose yard this happened in if some shit like that ever happened to me again. I beamed with immense pride in my father in that moment. That’s what his love felt like. Now that he’s gone, I know he loved me. Being Afraid to Heal is my fear of acknowledging the ways in which I am like him and that I am standing on his shoulders and will one day need his strength to raise my son…”
Doug
“…High school feels good even though I’m with people who never see me for me. I’m doing something and being somebody. I know deep down I’m not accepted for who I am. I’m a known athlete. I’m a drug dealer on the come up and ladies’ man. Inwardly, I want acceptance. I want the people I run with to accept me for me. But how can they? I don’t know me and won’t and can’t let others see me for me. Even if this healing shit is an option, I don’t want it. It sounds like getting real and being known. Not happenin, not right now…”
Kirk
“…I remember a girlfriend of mine in college telling me about when she told her mother about me, this guy she was dating whose name is pronounced Stephan. Her mother said “…that boy’s mother ain’t name him no damn Stephan. His name is Steven…” She was right. My given Christian name is Steven but Stephen (Stephan) was cool and who I wanted to be. I don’t want to heal whatever the fuck has me on this path. I enjoy being Stephen. Afraid to Heal. Okay. But I’m rolling being Stephan. Life is good. As Tupac sang, “…All Eyes On Me…” Maybe I’ll get to your healing shit later. But right now, I’m focusing on this honey crossing the yard in them tight ass shorts that belong to her little sister and that halter-top showing her big ass damn…”
Stephen
It’s said “…sometimes the devil you do know is preferable to the angel you don’t know…” This is the deal with healing. Sometimes it‘s not that we can’t heal. The truth sets us free. Sometimes we’re just fucking afraid.
Read more about Doug, Kirk and Stephen and tell your story. Listen to Hunter’s Podcast. All on wreckedamerica.com. In Wrecked America, #HealingMatters
The Struggle Continues….
