I’ve never had much luck with people, including my son, before living the way I do today. Back then if you were hanging around me, you can bet I was getting something out of it. Not necessarily something materialistic, but at the very least I was stealing energy from you, or I just didn’t want to be alone so I was with you. I never, from what I can remember, was around you to see what I could bring to the table, how I could enhance your life. So, in turn, people didn’t like me at first. It took awhile for people to warm up to my sarcasm, to my arrogance…..to my selfishness. On a smaller level this is still the case, but not nearly as bad.
I never went into a friendship or a relationship thinking: “Let me see what this person can give me.” You see, I didn’t need to. I was on auto pilot, that shit just came to me as naturally as breathing. That way of life never got me anywhere. Loneliness bread more loneliness. Fear turned to anger and rage. Frustration turned to violence. Constant battles with being “ill” lead to an eventual contentment of hopelessness. Eventually that magic moment happened. You’ve heard it before, we call it “the gift of desperation.”
This feeling of desperation that hopefully everybody with a spiritual malady experiences at some point, on some level, lead me to make a decision. It appears in many forms. It could be legal troubles. Or it could be your family not wanting to be around you in the condition you’re in. Not seeing your children. Snapping in violent rages at the drop of a hat. Losing jobs. Your health deteriorating. Losing all your friends. Being a slave to the drink or the needle. Or doing the things you swore you would never do and were never even capable of.
With me, it was all of those things and more.
I struggled for almost a decade swerving in and out of G-d’s light. I would get a taste of relief, a break….G-d’s Grace, and I would take advantage of it. I wouldn’t cherish it. I wouldn’t share it. I would just abuse the gifts I was given, and eventually throw them away instead of passing them on.
My son would be a part of this. He saw the ups and downs. I was someone who appeared to be Bipolar, schizophrenic, depressed, adhd, it looked like I had an anxiety disorder and anything else you want to add. I was even prescribed medicine for all those things. ALL OF THEM. There was a point when I convinced myself that I needed the medicine too. All these people were telling me that I did, and I took the medicine, and it worked…so I thought I was doing the right thing.
I can report to you today however, that I needed none of that, and I still don’t. The pills I was prescribed were just another fill in for G-d. So, just like every other fill in, they never truly made me happy and I eventually relapsed. Sure they made me feel better, but I never felt like I was living right. I was never properly pure.
This can be a touchy subject, but this is my experience. Not yours. I’m just saying that It was only when I let G-d handle everything about me, and I did my very best to share how that happened with as many of my brothers and sisters that I could, did I feel pure.
The gift of desperation didn’t come to me easily. As a result, my son didn’t have a father when he should’ve. Today however, he does. And I owe every moment we spend together, every smile we share, every laugh, every meal, every experience, every answer to his insightful questioning, every drawing we do, every song we sing, every game we play, every single bit of strength I have, and every salty tear of joy….to G-d.