What a week. What a day. My uncle has officially kicked the bucket. Who would have thought the cancer would have killed him and not the heroine. 30 years of heroine. A wasted life. A hurting mother. Hurting children.
And they say it’s addiction – like depression – and it can’t be helped.
All the loss this year and I’m tired of being strong.
Is addiction and depression just that? Just inner demons being battled by a lost and lonely soul? Or is it a selfish individual who chooses to put themselves before others?
What about the people who love so much it hurts? They want only the best for themselves and others and they can’t understand the constant failures of the world and those around them?
The pain. The frustration. The aggravation.
Is there one person in this world who won’t let me down?
So far, it’s only my daughter. A sweet and innocent 6 year old, which has me back in therapy because I know – I KNOW! – at some point this innocent and beautiful soul is going to hurt me.
Hell, she will probably crush me. Because she’s a human being. And that’s what human beings do. We are flawed. We are selfish. We are searching. Searching for what no one knows.
But this constant searching leads us nowhere besides down roads that bring hurt, anger and humiliation …but we continue to go down these roads with hope.
We hope we’ll find what we’re looking for. Whether it’s love from family or a significant other or a pet, or whether it’s education that will bring us to a higher level of understanding. Book smarts or religion. Was L. Ron Hubbard on to something?
Maybe we’ll find ourselves. So we can make sense of it all. This life. The hurt. The fear.
They say this hope is a positive thing.
But can hope also destroy your sense of happiness? Because I truly hope this sweet and kind and loving 6 year old will be the only human on Earth not to break me, but that said, she’s a human. And that’s what humans do.
Humans tear down others to bring their own psyche up. It’s not about being a bad or evil person. It’s about survival of the fittest. It’s Darwinism at its best. If it comes down to me surviving or you,,,, I guarantee it will be me.
I won’t let you break me or fatigue me or hurt me, my faith, my child, my cat or my hope. Because even if hope isn’t actually a positive thing it’s all I have left.
As much as I hope this amazing 6 year old won’t hurt me, I know. I am a child of my parents, and I know I hurt them. I kicked the living shit out of them.
I think they did the same to me.
I wonder how much tape it will take to put me back together? 1 roll? Or 2?
What if those who after 12 rolls of tape said fuck it, and turn to booze, or pills, or drugs … as a way to put themselves back together.
We are all inherently looking for something. It’s human spirit. It’s growing pains. So what if forgiveness becomes the new hope? Maybe that’s what I need to be searching for.