The Hardest

The hardest part of all of this

Is the promises you left when you walked away

You told me to hold on to you but then you let go

You told me I was the reason you’re here but then you moved away

The hardest part of all of this is you still fill the holes you left

You still walk in and out, like a vapor that I sense but when I look, you’re gone

You found another to be your refuge

The hardest part is what I gave up to sit in the silence with you

And you pretend it was never there

You act as if I shouldn’t feel the way I feel

The hardest part is thinking you felt the same

And now I know I’m the fool

For believing the lies

For thinking you just needed time

For thinking you needed me but finding you just needed the moments

And I was just the placeholder in your photoshop

Meant to be filled by another

The hardest part of losing you is that you are still here

The Poltergeist

They say that I have to let go of the past

They say that I have to embrace the present

But what if my memories are the only thing

Keeping me walking through this desert

What if my demons are the closest things I have to friends

What if this mole hill of a mountain

Is the only challenge I find worth climbing

What if I let go of the rope that holds me

If I accept my fate than I must accept that I’m alone

Even death does not cause me to shiver as much as the thought of this

I have withstood so much of the agony these ropes have burned into my hands

And when I finally reach the summit, I am confronted by the fact that I’m still at the base

So I will let your reality be what it is

But you will not take these ghosts from me

They are the only company I care to keep

I know I’m a fool, but just the same

This is my poltergeist, and she’s not going anywhere

Remembering a Car Fire

I looked into his eyes as he sat across from me. I noticed the glossy gaze as he was fighting tears. It's amazing what people go through that you don't even realize. For 20 years he's been blaming himself. What if he'd just done something different? What if he could have saved them? But after 20 years, he's finally coming to the realization that there was nothing he could do differently and he did the best he could.

My father is a fire fighter and was once a Paramedic. But after this event, he asked to be reassigned. The images in his brain just wouldn't go away. It was early July. Independence Day was right around the corner. Two girls in an SUV had some fireworks in the back. Someone thought they'd be funny and through a firecracker in the SUV. The rest of the fireworks ignited in a display of bright colors of which instantly set the inside of the vehicle ablaze. They didn't stand a chance.

He was the first to the scene. What he came across haunts him to this days. Two girls, nearly his oldest daughter's age, screaming in the front seat, the damage already done. There was no definition to differintiate flesh from clothing. There was no moving them as they're backs were adhered to the leather seats. The only thing a Paramedic could do in this situation was to get an IV in anywhere he/she could and pump pain meds. But there was no where to stick without removing clothing which would have put the girls in more excruciating pain then they already were. 

Knowing that he could do nothing left him feeling helpless. He crawled into the SUV from the back seat and sat between them. He spoke in words most delicate, telling him what he knew was a lie. Everything was going to be ok. His voice shaking as he spoke and as they continued to scream. He broke protocol and broke down. He cried along with these girls continuing to comfort them between the sobs as he knew they weren't going to make it. He was completely helpless.

And this is what has haunted him all these years. He still hears their cries. He can still smell the stench of burnt flesh and leather. He can still see the charred limbs and looks of terror in their eyes. As he spoke, my cheeks soaked, I realized something I never thought of before. We all have events that change who we are. We all have seen things we wished we could erase. Maybe not to this extent but we all have a story. The key to surviving is not to supress these stories, but to give them their space. Allow them to change us. Experience can be a great motivator towards compassion if you let it. My dad is a better person having had to go through that agony. It has made him softer and more caring about those he is charged to care for. And though I wish he would have never had to experience such atrocities, I know that he is doing the best that he can. I know that although broken, he has not given up. That encourages me to move on one more day, one more hour, one more minute. When it all is said and done, the only thing that matters is how you helped just one person by being present. How you showed them that you were there for them. How you cared. 

Punk is Dead, but What of Lemmings

If you know anything about me, you will be well aware that “normal” is probably the last descriptor you would use. And I’m cool with that.

The truth is, I’ve never fit into a mold. There was a time that I tried. But in all honesty, we were always too poor for me to ever fit in with the “cool kids”. And quite honestly, I find that to be the shame of our society. Having to wear the right clothes, having the right toys and gadgets. This is the modern cast system. If you can afford these things, you’re in. If not, kiss the ring you peasant.

In junior high, something clicked. I came to the realization that I didn’t want to be a lemming. I didn’t want to be anything but who I was. So I stopped trying to be “cool”. My wardrobe consisted of amazing finds I got at Goodwill and I stopped thinking in terms of categories. I wasn’t a jock, druggie, skater, prep, etc. I was simply me. If I wore something, it was because I liked it. I didn’t give a shit what others thought.

This was my emancipation. I stopped judging others and stopped judging myself. I think autonomy is the way to be truly content. If you like something, wear it. If you like a song, sing it. If you like a dance move, fucking strut that shit!

Some define this lifestyle as “punk” and yet, that has simply become another label to define a style. Don’t get me wrong, our brains need to categorize in order to function efficiently so I’m not saying do away with all labels. But, here’s what I am saying. You don’t have to chain yourself to any specific label. If you create, know that someone will always be there to tell you you’re not good enough. They are liars. You are you and that’s fucking amazing! Own that shit! The only way to truly fight mob mentality is to realize that you are not of the mob. You are you, and there is no one else who could take your place. So just do that thing. Be who you are. Dance when you’re drunk. Get excited about the things that make your heart skip. Don’t let anyone beat the individuality out of you. Normal is a facade. We are not lemmings. Life is not the cliff. Punk is not dead.

When Time Moves Forward

I don’t even know what to write anymore on this day. Eleven of these days have now come to pass and my emotions towards them are always fueled with conflicting peaks and valleys. I drown in them. They consume my very essence.

I remember it like it was yesterday. All the chaos. The feeling of helplessness. The tears spilled on the floor. I remember the way my brain completely shut down as it came to terms with the truth. She was gone. She would breath no more. And I feel as though I’ve been holding mine ever since in solidarity.

Life moves forward, not on. It doesn’t stop for you to catch your breath. It doesn’t cease to bring pain and suffering just because you’ve already suffered everything. It continues forward. It doesn’t even ask your permission or preference.

I am grateful for the children that are sitting near me now. I’m releshing in the moment of Ruth currently cuddling up to me and holding my arm, pretending to read these very words. I don’t take these moments for granted however it still magnifies the truth. There should be one more voice I’m hearing. There should be one more body begging to cuddle up to mine. And this ache is a weight I feel I will never be free of.

I take all this day by day. I thank all of you who read this and encourage me. I break down when I read “are you doing ok?” I know that you know I’m not. But you know that you are asking if it has overwhelmed me yet. It has not. I’m still writing. I’m still sharing her story. Because she is still a part of me. So, one more year passes without my permission. So I will move forward with the time, but I refuse to move on.

The Windows Behind Your Eyes

Have you ever met someone who seemed to be so caring, who could look you in the eye and you knew that they saw past your mask? They seem so focused and in tune to how your feeling yet when you look at their lives, you can tell they seem to neglect themselves and probably seem a little unhinged?

Chances are you’ve met an impath. To clarify, I’m just going to assume you have no idea what that word means. An impath is someone who not only empathizes with people who are struggling but they sympathize to a point where they can put themselves in that emotional state even if they’ve never been in such a position. They can tell you exactly how you’re feeling and what thoughts are racing through your mind.

You may think, “how can this person know so much?!?” They probably make you a little nervous because these are the vulnerable parts of yourself you thought were well hidden from the world. Impaths are like the Sherlocks of emotion. They can read the smallest facial expression, the windows in your eyes, the way you twitch your pinkie finger when you’re nervous, and how you say you’re fine but you can tell that they know you’re lying. It may even make you sick.

I want to shed some light on impaths and give some insight if you are friends or even lovers with one. We are all different so I will try to use broad brush strokes that I hope will encapsulate most of us. Firstly, impaths not only can tell what your going through, they go through it with you. We can’t help it. We feed off of your emotions. This is how we can understand even if we haven’t experienced what you’re going through. We put ourselves there. We’re like emotional camelions that change color to whatever emotion you’re permeating, even if you are unaware.

You may see us as unhinged but in reality, in a given day, we’ve been through a miriad of emotions depending on who we’ve come in contact with and we end each day utterly exhausted. 

I’d say we’re quite hinged considering what we experience emotionally on a given day. Another thing to understand is that an impath can process others’ emotions with expert precision but we struggle at processing our own. We take a very long time to understand why we’re angry or depressed or frustrated. The emotion may not even be our own. It may be left over from someone we’ve encountered that we haven’t sluffed off yet.

Lastly, the impath is really good at understanding but we’re not always the best at encouraging, though we swear we try! But because we feel what you feel, we can fall into your funk fairly easily if we don’t check ourselves. I know I’ve fallen to this too many times to count. 

So, if you have an impath in your life, don’t be afraid. Most of the time we are fiercely loyal and will not betray your trust. Give us grace when we read too deeply. We’re not trying to be intrusive. We just absorb your energy. And if you feel you need to confront your impath friend, just be up front and honest. We can tell when you’re lying but will pretend we can’t because we cherish the relationship more than we cherish even our own integrity. We will fall on our sword over and over for you because that is how much we want you to avoid harm.

I am your ally. I wish to be understood. I hope this helps.

I Am Jack’s Sense of Purpose

We’ve all heard the phrase, “anything is possible”. It’s been drilled into us since childhood. “You can do anything if you’re willing to work hard enough.” It sounds nice, even motivating. But the harsh reality is that at best, it’s simply untrue and at worst, it’s psychologically damaging.

What about someone who is wheelchair bound with a brain injury. What if this person’s dream was to become a sniper in the Marines? What if this person was continuously told, “anything is possible.” Granted, laws and rules could change but as it stands, anyone with a disability involving  lack or limited use of limbs can not serve in this prestigious branch of the 

military. This is a true story of someone I know. And the psychological toll placed on this person is hard for my heart to bare. I can’t imagine how it feels for 

him. 

So back to the “Anything is possible” mantra. I think we should ditch it. This doesn’t mean we’ve given up. It simply means we have come to terms with the idea that what we are able and not able to do doesn’t have to define our success or even our contentment. 

The most well rounded people I know are the ones who don’t expect things to happen but are able to roll with whatever life brings. This is who I aspire to be. Life doesn’t always pan out how we plan. Often times it is out of our control. 

In this manner, I follow the philosophy of the Stoics, set aside that which you can not control and put your energy into what you can control. I believe that is where contentment and purpose stems from. I am Jack’s sense of purpose amidst the anarchy that is life.