the unfathomable misery of being

I’ll give you the bad news first.

I am no guru, sage, or wiseman. I am just a guy. A guy who was a victim for a considerable portion of his childhood. I am a man who is a survivor. 

Survival. This is at the heart of all we are. It is our survival experience that shapes who we become. It is how we react to our experiences that seal that deal. 

I have not figured anything out. I am currently in the deepest pit of my life, having slowly and spectacularly failed, repeatedly, over the last 30 odd years. 

After that 30 years, I have finally, truly uncovered where I lie on the mental health fuckin’ kaleidoscope spectrum of fuckeduppedness. 

So, I am now facing a second lifetime of self-work, therapy, and re-discovery. Luckily, this all comes with a healthy heaping of defeat, a phat-ass side of shame, and the tastiest dish of all, humiliation. 

But…with skinned knees, bloody palms, and a look in my eye only a true warrior can muster, I stand again, a lifetime of rage boiling inside me as I decide that I will not allow the failure of societal infrastructure to destroy me. 

The good news is that I am not some fuckin’ asshole who doesn’t know what the fuck he is talking about. I am you. I am a victim who somehow persevered through the hell I was forced into and came out the other side. I will not promise you the lies of psychiatrists, psychologists, and mental health professionals too junior in status to be trusted.

I am broken, but I am…resilient. WE…are resilient. We can overcome the life sentence of chaos and shame. We can find a way to press on.

I am an observer. I notice details. I see where others assume. I recognize patterns and develop strategies. I think, therefore I am…my own master. I alone can wrench my battered soul from the depths of suffering and human depravity, pull myself out of the miresome swamps of self-doubt, self-hatred, and self-destruction just enough to see that there is a light to strive for and so I grab ahold of the only rope available, one paradoxically connected at one end to the roots of sanity and at the other, the depths of despair, and such is the high wire balancing act of “recovery” from the hell of childhood abuse. But…I am determined to find a way through the everlasting nightmare that plagues every moment I am conscious. 

I don’t know if what I’m doing is going to “work”, but I’m in his motherfucker for the long haul because I have obligations that I refuse to forfeit on.

I have survived. 

I will continue. 

I will never yield.

– HomieCidal Brainiac