When my moods change without prediction, I withdraw into my shell. Like an ostrich obstructing its arrest, I plant my head safely into the ground. Although life has thrown me curveballs, planting many obstacles along my path, I rose above the rain to reign resilient.
As the sole male heir-apparent born after four, fiercely independent daughters, my parents' religion and culture collided to overwhelm me with a list of duties, and obligations. Until my father took the downtrodden road for deadbeat dads, creating a strong, empowered single mother out of the waif he left behind.
Mom fought hard day in and out, wreaking havoc on the system, her education taught her tolerance, and blessed us with integrity, and wisdom. Calm prevailed for a short song, until addiction dug its ugly claws into my sister's broken heart.
At twenty-three, her lungs, kidneys, and heart stopped, and set her free from the LUPUS that medical research seemed to have forgot. I was nine and had no idea who death was or what it sought, so I collapsed into myself until neither shrink nor exorcist could figure out why I'd began to rot.
Substance abuse, self-harm, and solicitation started my rebellious stage. I felt caged inside the body of some unfamiliar fiend; rape resulted in recklessness, street gangs, and rage, as I raced against the clock. Suicidal ideation, and attempts became my obsessive thoughts, until a dual-diagnoses derailed my disappearing act; Bipolar-II and post-traumatic stress became cut away at me, like a double-sided sword. Eventually, I'd make another twenty-seven attempts to end my pain, three of them were near successes, but I'm so thankful that I got them wrong.
Added trauma, anxiety, and visits to the ER occupied my time, when I wasn't exploring my sexual identity, as I tried to simultaneously grow and rewind time to heal the little boy inside who remained lost. Another sister's untimely demise and I thought life had finally won; in an instant, I lost my sister, role model, and best friend then watched my entire world flash bloody red before fading to broken black. With little strength inside to go on, I went out like the light inside me that had also died. Until the day I discovered a reserve of strength inside me waiting for me to pull it out; this is where I began to heal myself before I could also help the world.
These scars, this story, and disease are merely pieces of my flawed design for trauma, without them I'd be someone else but I am strong enough to bear these crosses. I am better because of my battle, life beat me into beauty. To you, my garden might seem overrun with weeds, or rotten but to me, it is the rain-forest that saved me.
