So I took my medication and I poured my trauma out
On some sad-eyed middle aged man’s overpriced new leather couch
And we argued about Jesus, finally found some middle ground
I said “I’m cured”

And I divvied up my anger into thirty separate parts
Keep the bad shit in my liver and the rest around my heart
I’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them
But it’s a start

But I ignore things, and I move sideways
Until I forget what I felt in the first place
At the end of the day I know there are worse ways
To stay alive
‘Cause everyone’s growing and everyone’s healthy
I’m terrified that I might never have met me
Oh, if my engine works perfect on empty
I guess I’ll drive
I guess I’ll drive

So I forgot my medication, fell into a manic high
Spent my savings at a Lulu, now I’m suffering in style
Why’s pain so damn impatient? Ain’t like it’s got a place to be
Keeps rushing me

I got into a bit of a war with my sister last night, partially because she was drunk, partially because we see things very differently.

She asked me if I’d do the ancestry thing where you spit in a cup, and I declined. My sister and I have different dads, same mom. When she asked why I didn’t want to do it I said I didn’t really care much about my ancestry, like we’re all immigrants from somewhere in Europe, I don’t fly so I haven’t been to Europe, and which part my family 3 generations back hails from doesn’t make a difference to my life personally.

Now we have real fucked up families, and she said well what if we have the same dad, and I said listen, anything is possible, at the end of the day, I’ve had enough trauma from this family, so I’m going to continue living my life based on what I know it to be today. My dad is Joe, my mom is Pam. They abandoned me to do drugs, maybe my dad isn’t my dad, but I know one thing for certain, I genuinely don’t give a single fuck about it, it doesn’t change anything.

It doesn’t change how I grew up, or what I believed then, if anything it would probably just make my life a little worse, so I’ll stick to assuming that all the information I have on my family up to this point is true.

She really wouldn’t let it go, but for me it’s not about the past. My dad wasn’t a good dad, and honestly isn’t really a good guy. My mom wasn’t a good mom, but is probably a good person. Do I blame them for not being good parents? Not really.

I think at the end of the day, my parents were born in the 60’s, their parents were probably a little fucked up, and when my mom had me at 30 she didn’t have access to the information about mental health or general health that we do today. Would having that information changed any of her decisions? who fucking knows, and honestly who fucking cares.

I don’t wanna hear stories about how my grandparents were good or bad people and that led to my parents being who they are. To some degree I think the environment you grow up in has an impact on you, but it’s not the only deciding factor of who you become.

Take me for example: Was raised in a very chaotic, violent, angry environment filled with crime and drugs. I was angry for a while but I decided to look inward and do work on myself. Aside from angry, I’ve never naturally been violent, I’ve always had the ability to be when needed, but not my natural temperament. As far as drugs go I’ve smoked weed, and I’ve done mushrooms, that’s it. I took a different road, because I think growing up you either see that shit and decide to follow along, or you see it and say I’ll never be that person.

I decided to never be that person. I don’t think I’m better than my parents because they were homeless and addicted to drugs, I don’t think I’m better than the people who are out there right now homeless and addicted to drugs, just different. I decided I’d never go near it, it made me a very introverted, anxious person, with an anxious attachment style and abandonment issues. I’m no fucking knight in shining armor, just a regular guy who has problems like everyone else.

My point is, I don’t want to continue down this road of what ifs. What if I had different parents, what if I grew up different, what if, what if, what if.

What if I accept my life for what it is, and do the best I can with what I have. What if I continue to go to therapy and do trauma work so that I don’t bleed on someone who didn’t cut me. What if I break the trauma my family has had for generations. What if I’m the one that can change the mental health stigmas, instead of continuing to let them suck me in.

So I forgot my medication, fell into a manic high
Spent my savings at a Lulu, now I’m suffering in style
Why’s pain so damn impatient? Ain’t like it’s got a place to be
Keeps rushing me

Sometimes I do forget to take my medication, and honestly, I think it’s part of why some of the bad things that have happened to me have taken place. When I don’t take my medication I can be a bit manic, and a bit reactive and all over the place. I guess they’re called mood stabilizers for a reason.

Also quick little fun side note, I went to Lulu today, and I didn’t spend my savings but I did buy a pair of pants I planned to wear to an interview, but as Dave Portnoy would say *kids show* I think they’re a little too fitted in the crotch and the dickprint is distracting, again *kids show*. They are comfortable as fuck, but I think they’re more of errand pants than work pants.

And now I’m suffering in style. My pain has been impatient recently. I have all these things that I keep telling myself oh once I do this I’ll feel better or once I get this done I’ll feel better. The truth is I don’t think any of these things I’m trying to obtain or goals I’m trying to reach will make me feel better.. I think I just need to exist with the pain today, and let it come and go as it does, and some day maybe it goes and doesn’t come back…

Until then I’ll be suffering in style.

J