I’m good. You?

I passed by my Dentist, walking opposite directions in the grocery store isle. It took each of us a second to recognize each other, for I was not on my back with a paper towel around my neck; and He was not in his scrubs, or wearing those spy goggles he rocks on a daily basis. We did notice each other however, and in passing, a simple: “Hey!.. How are you?.. Good!” was all we exchanged.

He had slowed down more than I, and he would have no doubt stopped and had a conversation with me, if I slowed down as well. I kinda regret now, not stopping to say more, but he read my body language properly. It’s past dark, on a thursday, at a grocery store . I’m here to shop, not to socialize. 

I’ll see him in a couple of months.

As I got into my car however, my mind grew sporadic.  What if he really wanted to talk? It seems so unlikely (I’m a twenty-some year old bachelor. A patient of his; but only because my mom provides family dental insurance, etc.) but honestly, what if he wanted to say more than “Good” ?

Beyond my dentist, in the grocery store..

“good”.

What does that even mean?

I’ve heard it said before, by pastors and comedians, but what does it mean when you say “I’m good”.?.

…”I’m not comfortable telling you how my life is right now, and even if i was,

you’re probably not interested anyways.. so.. ‘good’.. I’m ‘good’…”

?

Oh, how callused we have become.

Are we all too self absorbed? Too self conscious?

We approach each other with a fear of the expression of how we feel,  simultaneously apathetic of the fears and feelings of those we have approached.

Or is it simply a waste of our time..  (?)

 

With all this (and more) on my mind, I begged the question of myself. Was I honest?

“I’m good”.

I have been doing a lot of self reflection lately. I tend to flip one of two ways.

I am incredibly blessed, life is good, God is faithful, the people around me are supportive and loving.

 – or –

I’m not good enough, ever.

Allow me to analyze, and explain.

For the most part, both are true. The change in my mood is dependent on which of these two near-facts I choose to dwell on.

I cannot even decide, in this moment, which of these to explain first..

I am incredibly blessed. There is no denying that. My parents are still together, they are loving and supportive. All my siblings are responsible, and kind; well put-together individuals. I have a tight knit crew of very close friends, many of which are off on their own life ventures,  growing fluent in adulthood. I have a steady, respectable job, with good hours and a very appreciative boss. I do not go hungry, and I have a place to sleep every night. I’m good.

The flip-side however. I have to include this, because despite these being terrible reasons to get depressed, I often overthink my own circumstances, and grow tired.

I’m a college dropout. I live in an old house, in which I split rent with roommates. I am not married, or even close. My savings account is almost entirely made up of tax returns. I still owe money, to my parents, for my car. I don’t know where I see myself in five years. I am in my early twenties, but I feel like I was seventeen just yesterday. I have been out of high-school for nearly as long as I was in, and I have nothing to show for it. I’m ‘good’.

If you have read this far, understand, I am not looking for a pat on the back, or your pity. And please don’t scold me either.

 

I take everything for granted.

I sit here at my desk, writing this blog, observing the metaphorical Pros & Cons list of my life, and I am good.

*Let me google that for you.. 
good
ɡo͝od/
adjective
  1. To be desired or approved of.
    “we live at peace with each other, which is good”
  2. Having the qualities required for a particular role.

 

I’m good. I mean that. To anyone remotely interested, or myself, reading this from the future. 

I’m good.

I often struggle with anxiety, and depression, like the future is some mystical journey in which I am tried and tested, for weakness and flaws. Like life is some kind of game for which I have never trained, or been told the rules.

And while in a sense, it is.. I’m prepared.

When I look back on where I was just two or three years ago, having just dropped out of college, and moved out. Living with roommates I did not get along with. Working a minimum wage job with higher-ups who did not appreciate me. Eating ramen noodles and frozen pizza rolls day and night… When I look back…

..I’m good!

Since the last week of december, I have Ran, every weekday before work for 10-20 minutes, and 45 minutes on Saturdays.

The only thing on my debit card over the past two weeks has been coffee and gas, not because money is tight, but because I have everything I want, and I regularly cook myself full meals at home.

I also make a 16 oz smoothie almost every day. They’re delicious. Yogurt, Berries, Milk, Orange Juice, Oatmeal, and Kale or Spinach, the occasional Kiwi.

I even started using mouth wash (or whatever you call it) after I brush and floss, which is something I have not done consistently, since my dentist made me, as a kid.

In the 8 months of my books existence, in 2014, I wrote 4 chapters. In all of 2015 I wrote 7. In these short 2 months of 2016, I have written 3. At this rate, I may finish writing it before 2017. Which would be amazing!

..and the list goes on and on.

At this point, the conclusion I would like to make, at risk of being too repetitious..

is I’m good. Ha!

When we push aside our fear of the future, the present becomes so much more clear. Wake up in the morning, breathe in the sunrise, and let the daylight put to sleep your nightmares.

I can look back at every moment of my life, including the most grand of them all, and think.. I’m better off.

Just because I am not moving as fast as I might like, and I have no idea how I got here, and I have no idea where I’m going.. does not mean I have any excuse to panic.

My mind is an endless game of tug-o-war, and here I pour water, on the solid ground, of the side I wish to lose.

My life is going by a plan, divine, and I have not one reason to be discontent.

I’m Good.

So, next time I ask someone how they’re doing, they’re going to respond:  “I’m good” .. and I’m going to pull them aside, look them in the eyes, and ask again..

“How are You?..”

I want to be the first stranger, in their entire life, to really care.

..How are you?

Adrenaline Junky

I Dont Want to Be Afraid.

I’ve jumped off tall rocks and structures before. You stand on top with the water far below. A close friend, close beside.

The rock, the cliff, or bridge, the water… It’s daunting.

You both laugh, poke, pretend to shove one another over the edge like its all a big joke.

Oh, Don’t fall! 

You both know its not life or death, it’s only water. Nonetheless, its frightening.

Since neither of you wants to jump first, you both flirt. You flirt with the water. Sick to your stomach in anticipation. The sinking feeling as you fly with gravity. The flood waiting for you at the bottom. Fear.

Eventually the wind picks up, and it becomes apparent to you both; that you must either jump, or call it a day and go home.

On three, or one after the other, you both agree to take the fall.

Leaving the ground beneath you, only to have it soar over your head, is a panic. The air burns your skin, before the surface knocks the wind from you lungs, and the water is all too cold.

One of two things happens.

Always.

 

  • I look back up at the sky above me, only to realize, my friend has in fact; not jumped. They found another way down. I am alone.

 

  • Rising to the water’s surface, they are already swimming to shore. No remarks about the journey. My friend is gone. I am alone.

 

 

I bob up and down on the waves of impact, staring from a distance with confusion. The water feels so far up into my head, I can’t breath from my nose. I cough. The water is cold, my hands and feet are numb, swimming becomes difficult. I’m alone.

The trip back to shore is much longer than the jump, and the memory thereof aches longer than the climb.

 

I can only think to myself:

Why did I jump?

Why did I even climb up there in the first place?

Should I have known better?

 Why?.

              Why?!.

                           Why.

                                          …

 

To be clear; I don’t hate the fall, and the water is not always cold.

But that jump..

The jump will forever be the most difficult part, and hopefully, someday..

I will not be left drowning at the bottom, alone.

The Bleeding of My Babbling Heart

Letters.

Never sent.

Letters.

In the hand of my own worst enemy.

Letters.

Don’t let her see them. Don’t let anyone see them. Please. 

With a smirk on his face, he holds them over the edge.

“I will drop them”. He says.

Rain upon the crowd, my thoughts, my emotions. Rain on the world my planned out speeches of romance and love, never to be heard. Never to be spoken.

Rain. The tears of my eyes. The storm in my heart.

Please, No. 

The world can’t even look up. Completely unaware. My entire mind, everything unspoken, written.

Letters.

What if she finds them. Will she know they’re for her?

 

Still staring at me from the edge, His look hasn’t changed. He knows what is written. He has memorized every word. He has no way of knowing the passion behind them, but to him none of it makes any sense, anyways.

“I will drop them” He says once more.

The force inside me stops my breath short. The agony, the fire, the dread. The thought of trekking paths unknown.

Drop them. 

Go ahead. Let the world see. The core of my being. My soul cut open, served on a silver platter. Go ahead. Drop them.

Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe she’ll feel the same. Maybe she will be the first and only person to read the letters, and she will cherish them forever. Yes.

His face finally changes.

It is I.

Standing on the edge. Letters in hand. Sadistic smirk on my face. I look at myself, with a look of pleasure at my own discomfort, and  I once again cringe.

“I will drop them.”  I say.

No. Please no. 

My arms wrap around my head. Not far enough. This shell of a body covers, not enough of my being, as I long only for total seclusion.

Burry me alive.

Run my fingers through my hair. Turn in my sleep.

 

I have not written any letters.

But how dare I show her; whats written on my heart.

I stare myself down, standing on the edge, threatening myself.

“I’ll drop them”.

A sick joke.

Go ahead. Tell her. Spell it all out. Let the world know.

No.

No human being ever understands.

Not her. Not you. Not me. Nobody.

 

Letters.

If only it were all that easy.

 

I let them go.

Day, After Day… After Day.

I love, love, love, what the Above Love does,

Upon us, ever longing of Above Love’s Love.

 

I panic on a regular basis.

Take my hand. I don’t want to fall. Can I even trust one more step?

Are there any guarantees the ground before me won’t just crumble?

Life is a terrible dream. You’re half asleep, so all your surroundings are faded. Nothing more than ten feet away from you has any real shape or form. You have no real grasp of what is outside of your direct reach. You stand on flat ground, but the sensation of being off balance is tearing apart your insides, like the slightest nudge will send you collapsing to the ground. You have one hand reaching behind you, holding onto all that is stable. Yet, because it is your dream, they too are invisible, for you cannot turn around. You look at your feet, they are all you can see. The ground beneath them appears distant. Your knees are shaking, you’re sweating, everything is dark. Voices around you plead. One step. Just take one more step. Like every other day in your chaotic life, you feel like a child in their first attempt at something new.

Take my hand. I don’t want to fall. Can even I trust one more step?

Blood stops short of your hand, as you clench what rests behind you. Raising one foot, trembling off the ground, you extend a leg in front of you. For just an instant the ground disappears, your eyes roll back, consciousness subsides. The foot plummets a short distance below you, onto solid ground. You regain momentary strength, but it’s short lived. Everything is still black before you, and your heart still throbs within. Your back foot unknowingly catches up to your newly found location, and the battle continues once again, never looking back.

Take my hand. I never want to fall. How can I trust even one more step?

The ground you stand on quakes. Bits and pieces of the stone you rest on fall through the surface around you. A gaping black hole appears beneath you, as all you’ve known to exist, falls away. Your arms and legs go numb, as the ground disappears. The darkness engulfs everything around you, until nothing remains but your feet themselves, standing on thing air. Complete fear and agony overtake you, as the nothingness you have known for all this time, breaks your heart.

Emptiness.

For a moment.

Emptiness.

Gravity pulls you through the dark. Your arm still reaching behind you. You’re falling. Nothing can slow you down. Nothing can be seen. Your heart, your soul, your entire being, cries out at the dark.

Let me Go!

 

Behind you, from where you cannot see, you hear voices.

Take my hand. You will not fall. Take just ONE more step. 

 

 

Watch, with me, the birds. Can they see the air? The very ground they walk on. Can they see it? A flap of the wings, lift off.

Emptiness.

Keep going.

Emptiness.

 

What if we could fly?

Would you believe me if I told you; we are already flying..?

Each day is a flap of our wings, showing off to the world around us, and those in it. We look to the air beneath us and smile, as if to say:

Are you seeing what I am capable of?! 

I can fly. Each day, if I choose to, I soar.

We cannot see what gives us lift, and it may be a lifetime before we do.

Regardless, As a bird does not see the empty space beneath its wings.

We cannot see tomorrow.

But a bird takes off through thin air..

Can we, together, feel the wind?

Tears of Glowing Red

I’m writing, right now, just to write.

Because writing, right now, feels right. 

Imagine, with me, a world where no one ever struggled with purpose. Where no one ever wondered, what am i supposed to do today? Where no one ever wondered what they were going to do tomorrow.

Imagine, no confusion. No loss for words. No pain at loss of worth.

Imagine… Imagine. 

Imagine that world, was already here among us.

Imagine we just fail to see it.

Would we struggle with depression, would we struggle with anxiety, would we struggle with the pain of ‘no purpose’… If we knew, the depression, anxiety, and pain, were in fact our very purpose?

A tree does not struggle with losing its leaves. Losing its leaves is part of its very purpose. A tree cries, tears of blood, glowing red on the way to the ground. Over time its’ tears become exactly what the tree was needing all along. In doing so, the tree provides for everything around it, simultaneously saving its own life, and yours.

Imagine.

Nobody ever notices a tree, until it changes colors.

Nobody appreciates a tree, until it has learned to cry.