Sunday, January 25, 2015

perhaps enough

a rant, a plead, a way to ease my mind and feel like i did something:

part one:
you, like many people i know, had a less than exemplary start to life. although you never have had to want or need food, clothing or shelter, you have never felt loved. your parents are, from my experience, fucked up. right up there with bad parents. in some ways, from what i understand of your youth, your parents were not the worst. they gave you things. you had fun, technological relevant toys at your disposal. you also had some interesting travels and methods of travel. (your own family plane=the tops, man!) you were raised as an only child, and adored your older sibling who was being raised elsewhere, so you were lonely. you're so guarded, and at this point I'm not sure you're very much in touch with reality neither past nor present but you have given me times of lucidity, insight into your existence.  when we were kids you let me know you liked coming to my house because my mom hugged you, and your parents didn't. of course your father didn't, he is the king of fucked up in your world. too brilliant to have social awareness? perhaps he has a tad less grey matter in his brain or retarded-brain-activation in his amygdala, either way he lacks empathy and understanding that good fathers do not. he has in no way ever accepted you; and that is wrong, fucked up, sad, damaging... you idolize him because of his intellect and are addicted to him because his abuse and emotional neglect. you're proud to be related to an actual genius. i think you should feel grateful you got some of that brain capability. but in my eyes he is nothing to idolize or revere, he is a coward who didn't do his son right. all that brain power and he couldn't figure that out. "gee, i should hug my son and tell him i love him even though it doesn't come naturally to me. i should go outside of my comfort zone to raise this little person i created to feel self-love." you can't even blame brilliance for your mom's inability to love you right. maybe she was scared of your dad? maybe she had a super weird and unfortunate childhood. she was not kind enough to you. she was not understanding enough. she did not get to know you enough. i will never understand her but i don't respect her and i kind of loath her.

you started experimenting with drugs when we were very young. before i had boobs you had eaten bunches of psilocybin, minimally. perhaps you had a void and a need to feel loved and drugs did that for you. perhaps you were a normal, smart, bored teenager (with a less than exemplary start to life) who decided to do some experimenting and it felt good. it felt better that the angst. you're a smart dude. and being smart isn't always easy. you can be too smart for your own good. you can get left behind by your peers and instructors because you're so far ahead. unfortunately, being intellectually far ahead doesn't usually coincide with rapid emotional growth. so, you opened the doors of perception and started enjoying it. who wouldn't. but that naivety died in our 20s.

i saw early in our long history that you didn't really love yourself. although you would never admit that because you haven't realized your self destructive choices are fueled by your self loathing, or to admit that to someone else would be "weak" and leave you vulnerable. another lovely gift from your parents. i mentioned above, i think you're super smart.  i think you have many talents! you appreciate beauty in a way professional artists yearn for. you have a mechanical inclination: your hands understand metal, and many other mediums. you're so smart and when you're interested in something you are capable of absorbing so many complicated details about whatever that is. you are good at finding the things you need to build or take apart or create from scratch to satisfy the growing itch inside of you for that subject/project. but you are your worst critic. you are hopelessly searching for a love feeling…. for yourself. no one is ever good enough because you don't think you're good enough.

part two
your parents have never liked me. i used to care about that so much! because of the deep and profound love i have for you in my heart, i want the people that you put on the pedestal in front of you to like me. but they don't . i know when you were a crackhead/pill addict and i imposed an intervention on you with your parents, you discredited my TRUTHFUL claims with lies. i'm not even going to speculate what you told them because only three people know what happened in the car ride home, but the picture you painted of me was that i was not authentic. but i was and i am still. i can't reach out to your parents to help you for several reasons. 
1. i already held an intervention for you were you discredited my honesty.
2. they won't help you. they will chose to disregard my claims and not use their small fortune to make sure you don't lose your home, and pay for the treatment you absolutely need.
3. you would hate me forever. again. for the fifth time.

so, what do i do? no, first, why do i want to do something? what is my motivation? well, i think it is kind of a selfish motivation. i think that if you overdose or kill your organs from too many years of neglect, i am going to be super bummed. and i know myself. i will beat myself up for several subsequent decades wishing i had done something. i've lost a couple people, and the definitive end has so far driven me to be regretful. so, ruby-centrism may be at the core. perhaps you deserve someone to love you enough to care when you don't care enough. perhaps i know a couple people who think you deserve more than you're capable of giving yourself and deserve to gain the tools to give yourself a better life.
you have had many successes. too many successful projects and investigations of interest to list or name. i often wonder what you would do if you had sobriety. i wonder how long you've gone in adulthood without any mind altering substances.  and what that felt like for you. i wish i knew the extent of your burden with losing yourself in altering substances. i don't know. but i have observed. very very closely at times and since our more youthful adventures, i have observed more distantly. my mind has kept little red flags in your file. and now that we are 30, i think it is safe to say i have observed some patterns. some self destructive, self-unloving patterns. it makes me sad. yes, i throw around what ifs. what if you were sober? would you be giggly? would your scenes be even more breathtaking? would you drink up life with gratitude and breathe in that fresh wonderful air and think, "i am content," and mean it? what would you be capable of? un-fucking-stoppable man!

but instead  of an unstoppable, beauty indulging, content man, you continuously get so faded until you're a crippled version of the potential-you and are you fading. i haven't seen you sober in years, longterm-loved-friend. i don't wake up next to you but i assume you experience bouts of sobriety! you still get belligerently fucked up. you called me recently in this incoherent state, at 9 pm. you have called a mutual friend in a slurred mess of belligerence even more recently. our last encounter in person you were so low on something you looked like a sleeping robot. you moved like sludge and didn't giggle. i didn't see the spark in your eyes, your spirit so dulled. you had no passion. and it has been like that for a long time now. before the cancer. you were already addicted. and now after, you are too. it made me super sad just a second ago when i realized, you get the most fucked up out of anyone i really love. 

i have more insight than i have lead on. your young and sweet but also frighteningly addicted girlfriend has told me more than you know. she's scared. scared for herself (she should be). scared for you. you, my longterm-loved-friend are an addict. i don't know the extent or all of the specifics. but i know with my heart and intellect that you are on the wrong side of drugs at 30. i know things you don't want me to know, and i kind of wish i didn't know. because, now i feel like if i don't do something, you might not ever get to experience yourself without drugs. this potentially super awesome person who has some inflection skills and who loves himself, truly loves himself. i feel like if i don't do anything you could definitely cease to be. and that would suck, because i hope you learn, you are worthy of love. you deserve to be more than your parents think you are. you deserve to be enough for you. you deserve to overcome the youth you were handed. your parents and choices as a child are not your fault, you carry the consequences, but you cannot control what happened. you deserve to let it go. 

so what do i do? i write this letter. i let the other people privy to the information burden i hold read it and perhaps i give it to you. perhaps i just publish this and live with my feelings finally being outside of me. perhaps i give you this as a cover letter to a well researched body of text explaining self medicating, addictions, how organs work and treatment options. whatever i decide to do and i going to do it with loving kindness, with the right way, and right intentions. 

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