So.. making more of a conservative effort to blog while the material is coming to mind, and this one is a great example and would be foolish, wasteful, and just plain negative to do nothing with. I have always tried to help those where I can, and knowing how delicate my situation is from spiraling further downwards, I still tried to help certain individuals and just recently hit a point where I can no longer afford to, at all, for anyone. Because no one, then, now, and by pattern in the future, would even bother to match the barest, basic, lowest percentage of a fraction of the effort I’d scrape for them. And yet again, quite possibly (and hopefully for the simple fact of my own survival now) was hit HARD with the plain, ugly yet simple reality that… people just don’t seem to give a single fuck anymore. And that those who want to help, are not able to while those that are able to, do not want to. And this last instance had me reflecting more again on my time within state custody as a teenager, and noticing despite my best efforts to de-institutionalize myself, sometimes even with professional help, there’s still much to address. I never once really saw before this moment just HOW MUCH of how I’d operate within certain placements daily, I still do to this very day. How many learned habits and routines just to be able to survive to now, that …. never went away. Always present, always vigilant, for any and all threats. And how I was attempting to essentially protect myself from myself in the sense of attempting to lessen the eventual damage that I’d accrue from seeing the good in those who don’t (and every so often don’t want to) see the good in themselves, that I was the only one to believe in them, and for some, sadly the only one period. And given my upbringing, and the sheer suffering I endured, it is truly sad that so many feel and act the way they do. The biggest thing that has consistently, without fail, helped give me the strength to push forward, even in some of the darkest moments, was the simple acknowledgement that it could always be worse, do what I can and do as much as I can to avoid that struggle; to push through and learn from it. I’ve often wondered if it stemmed heavily from my upbringing as so many seem incapable of thinking like that, and with some recent conversations with those who led similar lives, seen that I was the only one who sees things this way. And the crazy thing to me is, despite showing so many first hand, no matter what I am going through, I go through it period and move forward with my life, and do my best to rebuild and start from where I was at beforehand, that not a damn person bothers to even attempt to recreate, replicate, imitate, or otherwise what is obviously a mindset that works, albeit sometimes there’s other factors that lead me to those situations, of which I always do what I can to avoid it in the future onwards. So many, regardless of my role or existence period within their lives.. literally lead an insane existence during the age of information… deliberately choosing to be ignorant, and making their problems, your problems. And yet wonder why things are the way they’ve been, are and will continue to spiral down. I struggle to fathom such.. means of thought, if there even was any, of this societal phenomenon. I am forced to finally admit, acknowledge and work around the simple reality that for the time being, I’m as alone as I was in those placements, possibly even more so as every so often some peers and I would band together via trauma bonding. And by far, no such things have happened period despite my best efforts. When I’d have a chance to call someone for five minutes and spend all 300 seconds dialing and getting a dial tone, with that quiet statement that not one person gave a fuck, that it wasn’t them there it was me, and they didn’t even want to spare a single moment to even state the loud silence that spoke for them, cuts deep for anyone within those situations. However, however the sheer reality is… how black and white it was.. how blatantly obvious it was in those environments. Out with everyone else, they go OUT OF THEIR WAY to act like it isn’t that, and underneath the blurry lines within these gray areas, it is quite simply, no different. At all. And I’m near the point I can’t afford the hurt I was put through, for believing. Because, they just don’t believe. And despite everything, they made their minds up. I can only hope as I reallocate my efforts almost exclusively for myself for now onwards until otherwise, I inspire some to do as I do for once, and more people liberate themselves and be better, together. And with that in mind, I could take solace in wasted effort of just… everything I did for so many before this moment, and even if no one does what I hope for, at least I can say I tried. And Lord knows… I tried.
Tag: care
Of Myths and Car Jacking
Turn back the clock to April 2009. I was in Devereux and I just bought a brand stinking new game, a first and only, really. I was reading up on the game from Game Informer and being a long-time fan of the series, wanted to check it out and take her for a spin. The title? Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars. It was feature packed for a Nintendo DS game, scratch that, any handheld game at the time that wasn’t made by Nintendo itself. I loved it dearly. Being in a state placement setting I was bullied into sharing it unwillingly to those assholes I called “peers”. I played it day in and day out whenever I had a spare moment, slowing racking the game completion percentage to 100%. I downloaded 2 “DLC” missions and beat them quickly as well. I didn’t cheat the entire time as a personal challenge, but some punk stole it while I was sleeping, and got arrested, in turn losing all my weapons (including a rare katana you can only get in this one mission) my drug stash for the DrugWars minigame, and a pretty big sum of my cash I was saving for that last 1%. I was devastated, and going against my goal, cheated to get as close as I was before. All the while, the program admin and my Children & Youth worker were fighting over the right for me to play the game. The admin had two solid points: 1. I spent a month’s worth of allowance to buy it & 2. My violent activities actually went down while playing the game, causing it to be a coping mechanism. And just when I beat the game, the CYS worker, who finally won the match against the program admin, got my game, and gave it to my family. She said when I got out of care, I could have it back. Well, my mother and sister played hot potato with it and when I got out of care briefly in 2010, the game was MIA to my disappointment. Fast forward to today, in August 2014. My sister found the game this Tuesday after half a decade later in my Mom’s room, much to my enjoyment. I was elated with happiness. I began anew with the save file, for one reason being I forgot some story plots, and another being to beat without the use of cheat codes. I am feeling good.