welcome to the strange
the years, up until now, have been a marathon of suffering, a downward spiral to see how far i could take myself.
at some level i believed that if i could just shed my skin maybe i could get my wings. i deliberatley took it down as far as i could go, a comet plowing its way through the atmosphere, burning off layers- freedom is pure energy.
i walked my hell and i desensatized my emotions to the point i could live with out human contact.
it all became a blur. i had no idea the end was here.
the final few miles stretched out last fall. i operated soley on momentum (runners high). it caried me through the pain and i could no longer feel anything- what i took for numbness was infact weightlessness - i had metabolized all the guilt and shame and trauma
i fell to earth (or did i rebound into space)
and now i am here, clean and light, no more hatred no more negativity, no more attachment and for a few days i pondered why. why did i have to go through all of this to end up here?
or the bigger question: what is my purpose?
and i seem to have found it in Detroit. amoungst jaged teeth of scortched buildings- in the ghost town, the public schools that dont have toilet paper, the thirteen year old prostitutes, i have found what I am usefull for.
all this pain all these days have led up to one unifying purpose - empathy.
and with that I am reaching these kids. I am making a difference and I am helping. Because they can see I didn't grow up in the hood but they also see that I know what its like to suffer. they see that Im not offering lipservice, that i feel deep down inside what it is to be tormented.
most importantly they see i made it through and apparently that gives them hope.
one of the lessons i have learned was from a nine year old named robert. its actually his sisters that are in my care, he is there by default, but its not a bad thing.
we talked about family and he wanted to know why i didnt have any kids.
he told me you know kwana shes got the same dad as me but we live with my mom. she was at our house playing and my dad was saposed to come back and get us but he never did.
and i asked "how does that make you feel inside? does it make you sad?"
and he smiled like he had a secret and whispered to me. no. no, my daddy is a liar. hes family so i have to love him. but hes a liar. that is him, not me, that is a liar. and i have my mom and my uncle and when my dad gets better maybe he will try. but we have my mom.
nine years old. his siter is definetly a different story but we are working on that. wow. i may be teaching these kids science but they are teaching me life