How alone did I make others feel (Revised)

Americans, all too often; stockpile resources pretending blindness toward the less fortunate.  The nation’s motto “Every Woman for herself” provides a rational excuse for inaction for some.  As Americans we tend to believe today if a woman works hard she’ll succeed.  On the other side, her reality resembles a world not permissible to lone survival qualifications; she needs social help.  Unfortunately, and dishonorably, we protect our conveniences first, (i.e., what will it cost to help); thus we meticulously ponder those essential thoughts cautiously.  In the interim, no less, we remain idle while natural run its course.  In short, I shamed myself also with exaggerated loss of sight and non-action; thus I’m guilty as well.

As my conscious mortality gradually grows and my youthfulness slowly decays; I’m certain the end exist. The transience may reside atop a mountain or below the seas; but it will come nonetheless. At that time, I hope to welcome its purpose and display fearlessness.  With that said, eventual death allows a new reasoning about my inability to love deeper…Growing up poor and Black impacts all facilities i.e., affective, spiritual, emotional and not to mention, psychological, physiological, and social.  We circumvent measures that may help us by concentrating only on our survival and social defense.  Subsequently, as an African-American, you fight to feel good about yourself under such circumstances. One issue is how young people like myself grow up and not learn how to love fully.  I suggest self-loathing influences the ability to deeply care about other people. Why?  Because you hate you’re poor, hungry, and socially despised.

The perils of poverty demonize its actors in America.  For instance, underprivileged presents a direct affront to our democratic and capitalist values.   Americans do not adopt the notion publicly one can be poor in America. Why? Personal responsibility is the only factor to success.  Meanwhile, our mythical meritocracy dissolves poverty anguished cries with its steadfast resilient cheer: “Help your Damn Self”!  Or, “Get a fucking job bum”.  The steel-plated capitalistic mantra influences others to non-action and others to charity.  However poverty hurts the children of poor adults most when non-action occurs.  In children, insufficiency disable development, as a result, children mimic adults’ behaviors too rapidly.  Subsequently, children adopt those roles for the sake of survival and self-actualization.  I can attest sadly, however, children and adolescent should not adopt some adult traits, the miscarriage in development is too vital.

Hate, a theoretical stagnant of poverty, cultivates hardness in children and adolescents or the perception thereof.  As improvised Black kids, we believed or desired all families remain equal in scarceness in my neighborhood.  Therefore we did not wish people bad but it hurt when they did well.  Thus, on occasion, we would burst dreams and accomplishments like the fourth of July publicly… You have some news shoes, so what; your father got a new car, who gives a fuck, and then the ultimate class putdown: “Oh, you think you’re better than me now”?  For all intents and purposes, we detested success if it was not ours because it highlighted our poor conditions.  The popular culture today defines it as ‘Hating’.   In retrospect, the ‘have not’ hated on the situational ‘haves’ because of their objects of success (i.e., physical appearance, materials, or academics wealth).  Sadly, we believed, everyone was a possible enemy in the hood.  In simpler terms, poverty’s residues and the lack of proper development constructed bitterness in young people.  Well, it did in my family and ghetto…

Here it is…

Denied Caring’ is defined as: (the ability to appear as if one cares disguised by gifts of raw materials and Bullshit).  Yes sir this is it, I’ll explain, be patient.  Love and its purpose is misunderstood, I believe it’s mistakenly informed by what one gives away.  Well, routinely I threw money and material trinkets at family and friends hoping it would help raise their circumstances.  Money was the ultimate example of love for the giver (me) and receivers (family, friends).  This phenomenon was possibly a cultural spectacle as growing up Black and in poverty your day-to-day existence is paramount or it seemed.  Money soothed relatives and friends’ psyche and placed me in a noble light (I thought).  I was God.  No, I was a Black baby Jesus, yes Black baby Jesus, I like that…(RIP, Phil).

With the money and fame came a hardened soul.  I never learned anything about myself or others (i.e., family, friends).  The All-American success story was bullshit wrapped up in shallow waters of self-indulgence and egotism.  Fuck real love, I’ll buy the knock-off one and everything else you got in the store.  Shit, I was playing the game and being played all at once, what a trip.  Damn, ain’t life grand?

Let’s wrap this thing up…I want to love.  You know true love, as my mother would say, “Some shit you can touch and feel, wipe all over your damn head and body.  Yes, those kind of love relationships, unbridled without the packaged process religious or spiritual B.S.  I do not like making people feel horrible anymore and I take pride in practicing authentic love.  Unfortunately, my past behaviors have created some family and friends to place upon me unpardonable sanctions.  They cannot forgive or forget my ancient personalities and attitudes.  I’m like a damn Michael Myers or Jason, you know the horror cats.  In addition, the strong scent of my past egotism has created a force field that dissolves my soft presence instantaneous.  I’m a victim of my infamous (past) that does not exist.

How alone do other make me feel?

The Invisible Dragon

(All grammatical errors are purposeful)

Andrew Koenig and Depression

2010022002boner Andrew Koenig, the actor who played “Boner” on the series “Growing Pains” took his own life a few days ago. The actor reportedly has suffered from clinical depression over the past several years. Sadly, Andrew succumbed to what he conceived as his only way out.

I am a twenty plus year suffering of clinical depression, the outcome of Andrew’s plight was not a surprise. Conversely, like Andrew I had thoughts of suicide at times, thankfully I never carried the thoughts out.  I created a blog a year ago titled “A Way Out.” The blog was created to inform others about mental illness, especially depression. However, I ended the blog a few weeks ago and will fuse my depression news here on the Dragon.

I write the Dragon with a great deal more passion than I had with my other two blogs. (A Way Out, & 28Leadership Drive) Subsequently, I did not inform people about depression as much as I believe I could. Nevertheless, many of my depression posts are here on the Dragon; a blog search would reveal the rich abundance of information.

In addition, if you know someone who may suffer from depression and they have talk of suicides, they need immediate medical help. Do not think they will not take their life, unfortunately, in many cases like Andrew’s those were grave mistakes.

If someone you know suffers from depression and talk of suicide:

Call the suicide hotline Call 1-800-SUICIDE , 1-800-784-2433; Call 1-800-273-TALK / 1-800-273-8255 or get them to the hospital, do not believe they will get better.

**

The Invisible Dragon

Just something I needed to get off my chest…………………………….

amber-head-shot

“There’s no looking back from here”, I used to hear people say this and wonder what exactly they meant by this. Well, today this saying became a reality for me. It amazes me how people can repeatedly walk over you and your feelings and think that at no time are you to feel indifferent about them. Well all of that comes to an end right here, right now, today. I have come into my purpose and I plan to fulfill my purpose at all cost.

You hear people say “family first” but what if those in your family are the main ones hurting you and keeping you from your prosperity? I have turned the other cheek too many times only to be hit in other places. I have prayed about it only to have it thrown back in my face over and over again. From this lesson I have learned that I am to move forward and let certain situations and people go. They say along the way you lose friends but I never expected to lose my family; but God says for those you lose I will replace with people of God who mean nothing but good for your life.

When we choose not to forgive, we end up walking in the dark (1 John 2:9-11). Because of this passage I choose to forgive them for what they have done and what they are going to do. I will eventually forget what they said, I may even forget what they did but I will never forget how they have made me feel time and time again. In order for me to move forward with my life and my visions, I can NEVER forget how they made me feel; this way I will never feel that way again.

And I pray that you all can forgive me for anything I may have done to you.

The fifth of the ten commandments says “Honor your father and mother , that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12). I will Honor them but will keep them at a distance which is healthy for me.

Unconditioanl love is defined as a love with no exceptions or restrictions; isn’t that what a mother’s love is suppose to be? I have exhausted all possibliities in our relationship and I can no longer stand by and continue to let you hurt me as if I don’t even exist! I have not been apart of this family for a long time; you have made that painfully clear!!!

“Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times? I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:21-22) Again, because of MY God I will continue to forgive you everyday because forgiving is a choice; it’s a decision, not a feeling.

I have laid out my words in the correct order and have worn my heart on my sleeve for the last time where you all are concerned. I pray that one day you will wake up and see that I am not the same person I used to be but I am the woman God has changed and is continuously changing me to be. I pray that one day you will wake up and see that I have moved forward but you are still standing in the same place because you chose not to listen to my thoughts and feelings. Until you look inside yourselves and see that what you are doing is wrong and not pleasing to God in any way you will not prosper. I just pray that you can except and understand the fact that from this day forward I am taking care of me and not looking to my past but to my future; and at this point you all are not part of my ultimate goal.

I am at the point in my life that I will be exactly what God put me on this earth to be, a VIRTUOS Woman…….”Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.” (Proverbs 31:25)

Sincerely,

NOT LOOKING BACK………………..


Purpose Driven

A Letter to My Brother

This is a letter to my younger brother Davin Williams.  He’s been incarcerated since 1984.  He’s a great person and I Love him dearly.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Dear, Brother Moan

I haven’t heard from you looking forward to speaking with you.  Marie phoned me and asked for your address hopefully she’s sending something.  Did you enjoy the blog?  Hope you did.  It’s a rare time my mind cuts off from thinking, but it does when I‘m writing or listening.  Repetitive thoughts posses me still, not as much as they use to, but there still formidable.  The slightest action created laundry lists of repetitive thoughts.  Thoughts that couldn’t be halted, no matter how hard I tried.  If someone disappointed me or vice versa, my mind would run on autopilot for hours, days, even weeks.  Thinking over and over about issues that didn’t exist, but real in my mind.  My mind had catalogs of reruns, my Father’s death, my Grandmother’s death, Mother’s death, and your incarceration. There are others this letter can’t contain because of space.  Life’s situations that replayed in my mind over and over again, nonstop.  Ask my wife.  Especially my professional football career coming to a sudden end.  The fate of my Mother and my siblings was on my back, their salvation for a better life.  Was it fair?  It was there fair or not, I had no guidance to understand life at that time.  When my knee collapse so did my fragile mind.  I failed.  That’s all I knew, I failed.  I failed immensely for the first time in my life.    I didn’t possess a higher consciousness of awareness to deal with that.
I was only 23.  I was a child.  So I kept silent, that’s what children do.  Don’t they?

When I called Statesville Penitentiary on July 4, 1990 to tell you our Mother’s dead, it was one of the hardest day of my life.  I’ve never told you that.   Imagining what you felt, such news in that manner.  It hurt me to do that and reading the words I cry now.  Our Mother was everything to us.  She only cared about her children.  She gave her life for us.  In the end, I felt I felled for not getting her out of that apartment, out of the “Ghetto.“  It sent me twisting.  Twisting like a  Hurricane, into the world of Depression, Drugs/Alcohol and Amoral behavior.  Things I never considered, I was living bro.  The depression was the toughest, because it lives on repetitive thoughts.  One repetitive thought for years, was the promise I told her.  “Mommy, I’m going to buy you a new house when I get older.”  I felt since God didn’t do it for you, I will.  Remember those words as if I said it yesterday.  Dude you know how hard it was growing up.  Watching her cry because she couldn’t get us something for Christmas.  No food.  No clothes.  I would asked God, “How could you let my Mother cry like this?”  What did she do to deserve this? I see her pray to you, send money to you, send us to church for you.  What did she do to deserve this?  That made me hard.  It harden me to everyone, people, religion, God.  My thought for so long, “F— God, religion specifically. Damn you for taking her hopes and spitting them in her face.  What did she do?  Someone save her, I tried.  But I felled, She died lonely.  As lonely as she was on those Christmas eves.  Man I felled.  You couldn’t imagine my pain.  She died from a massive heart attack, on the very floor, in the very apartment, I promised to take her from.
She was only 46.

In 2005, I began to search for my life, my real life.  The journey, solo baby, like my Mother’s journey.  Spiritual journeys are expeditions to unmask fake public persona, quasi-character traits, revival of a real you, despite years of worldly conditioning.  Some of us make it, some us don’t.  Its hard.  Man its hard.  Its not easy to redo 20+ years of thinking in a certain manner.  Behaviors led by unchecked impulses, no matter how unnatural or unlawful they were.  One thing about worldly conditioning of the mind.  You can’t see well, your mental vision, blurred.  Blurred beyond normal comprehension,  a low consciousness of thinking makes the behavior OK.  My level of consciousness  since 2005 has risen.  As Kurt Franklin, song says, “Imagine Me.”  Can you believe that?  Imagine Me.   A changed Man, only few people know this.  My life has a driven purpose now.  I trust in something.  This roads’ hard, most of the time its just Bub and I now.  We’re undoing a why of thinking we both had for a long time.  Its hard to find fellowship in this walk.  Bub has her church and Women’s group and a few stand up friends.  So she during better then I am in that compartment.  I have a few stand up men, they won’t let me starve if they can help it.   However,  this is the loneliness I’ve being in my life, concerning people.  A cats don’t mess with me as much, mainly because of my past persona probably.  They keep up macho front, I use to do it, so I understand.  “I’m mad at you cha.”  Men don’t understand when you talk it helps to get out the pain that may reside inside you.  However, I’m finding ways to reach out, patient, blog writing, etc.  Most of my fellowship resides with a small number bro not because of who I AM, some don’t realize yet who I AM.  I forgive them.  I hope this letter bring fellowship to you.  I’m putting this letter on the blog Bro.  My blog’s a record of the metamorphoses from Fake-Man to Spiritual Man.  I’m here for you.  You’re here for me.

There’s no separations between us, Our Mother raised us better than that.

I Love you so much, Brother Moan, Stay Strong.  Believe, have faith.

Get back at me, baby.

Love
Amp, aka raw28