TROUBLED MAN
Trembling.
Crumblin.
Can’t fold under the troubles of a man.
What do you do when life feels better in your head when you break your golden rule.
You’ve been against lashing out at family because relationships bleed more pain than you have time to recover.
All you want is quiet, peaceful love but your son refuses to learn any lessons from mistakes and labels consequences as an enemy that holds him under the fire of failure. The way he shoots off at the mouth, makes you think he wears the crown and vest of success, but the reality is his discipline leaves him un-polished, so his view is tainted. Fortunately, responsibility and discipline are all he’s missing. Unfortunately, these are some of the most crucial for a young man to live beyond his teens. You know because you held yours hostage by any means.
He sees the rules of the father as bullying, and children hate bullies. Everyone hates bullies. Bullies hate their own lives. So much they do everything in their power to tear it apart- from having a place in any others. Every second of life feels like a lonely night. Walking in weather that whispers hellish memories and makes you wonder how fast your blood would wash away. How fast your body would decay and if anyone else would miss you and your pain. You want them to feel it and face it without you because you don’t want to be reminded of your trouble. Some is cool, which is also how you played your high school days.
Went from braids to a cut so sharp, you were slicing through hearts and draws. leaving heads spinning like the waves on yours. You grew up loved but feeling hurt, so you kept yourself ready and willing to return it-confused because you believed love was always supposed to feel good. You never imagined you could love a child so much it hurts. Damn son. If you only knew.
Your daughter celebrated a birthday of her first official adult age. She’s been trying to act it for so long it drove her crazy.
She reminds you of how serious you were. Everyone thought you were crazy because you didn’t agree to their version of sense. But the sense you made didn’t pay enough to make you popular-but you were cool to those you thought mattered, until you graduated and realized adults only care about celebrities and gangsters that are untouchable. You were neither, so finding your way sent you deeper into the in-sane realm of learning about yourself.
When you’re lost and raising others to find their way, every direction leads to being blamed and blaming yourself.
Your daughter smokes weed now for anxiety. You were raised with addicts and never dreamed of raising your own. Now your son is itching to find out how it feels. Sure, they say weed is natural, but when your little girl looks like she’s gained weight consuming a life she wants to escape, you drop hints for to work out. She’s a feminist and reminds you that you raised her to know and believe she’s responsible for her own body. You let her know to lay off the body shaming smoke because being in shape is better for mental health than any drug that has or will ever be created or sold, and if anybody wanted to be overweight, the world might be a happier place.
You also don’t talk to her when she smokes, because although she’s grown, and will always be your little angel, you're not the kind of father who will ever be comfortable with your kids on any drugs. And you’re from the beautiful world of ghetto wonders, woes, and magic, where success and addiction never withdrawal from a consistent habit.
Your youngest son told you he was only average and became emotional when asked what made him that. He said people who aren’t average are smart. You wanted to massage his brain and heart and stop your own because you’re responsible for these thoughts,
Although you instill in them the greatness, knowledge and wonderful belief that positive thoughts, attitude, and actions along with consistent discipline give you the capability and belief of creating the life we want like God.
Then you realized you’re basically creating a trap house. Similar to the crack house of your youth. The only difference is the family’s stuck watching the blood and smoke of youtubers instead of pipes and needles. You know the feeling of wanting something different, but you feel so attached to an instant escape from what you tell yourself is a present prison you make more effort to stay the same. So you keep someone and something else to blame.
Gotta do something different.
It’s time for a Troubled Man to end it.
Pain heals different when you face it. You stop suffering.
To all the Father’s wondering ‘HOW THE FUCK DO I DO THIS?”
My advice is “Just don’t pull out!”
