Sometimes I feel like a fraudster

Sometimes I really feel like I shouldn't be whining.

I don't whine as a rule, but if you're a regular reader of my posts you'll understand that there's quite a few articles over the last few months which I've shared with you that delve deeper into some of the tougher situations I've been in. To me, the steps I've had to take have been like the equivalent of reaching the peak of Mount Everest with only a leaf to insulate my body and a plastic bag to breath in. It's been a tough old ride for me, and I tell you like it is, but sometimes I wonder if it's really a tough ride when I take myself out of my own body.

Today I published on my magazine an article about a woman who is being abused by her own son. I didn't even know this was a thing until I read it; the story sent chills down my spine as the all too familiar routines of the narcissist were told for all to read. Also, a couple of months back @arbitrarykitten told me her story, and she had literally been homeless until Steemit helped her crawl out of the hole that she was in.

I read these stories and I think to myself; my truths, these are my truths but are minuscule to some of the other stories out there. A couple of months back I read a superbly written and utterly harrowing tale of incest, uncaring parents and prison life from another Steemian. This was a part of life that I wasn't aware of, and as a rule I've set out to educate myself more on the depravity that life in general can throw at us.

I'll be honest and say that as I sit here and write this I'm feeling pretty privileged right now. I've argued in the past that my roots have been very white trashy but if I dissect my childhood properly then I'll remember always being made fun off because I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was the good kid in a bad crowd and all of my friends knew that. They would all get their kicks from watching me do insane stuff that didn't quite fit in my family's narrative. My whole family was caring and supportive; my Mum, whenever I was staying over at my friends house, she would always check with other Mums if that's what I was doing. Sadly, she didn't know that my friend's Mum couldn't give a flying fuck if we were out until five am, or dead. Even my Dad, who was world renowned for not giving a shit still took me out of the fire when I was getting too badly burned.

I always knew there was a better life to be had. I had been given the gift of watching one Auntie and Uncle have a happy marriage and have two kids that went on to be doctors and teachers. My other Auntie and Uncle would take me away every weekend to do proper kid stuff, as a teenager; watch the football, build sandcastles and generally be myself -- they were a happy couple. I had it from all sides. I knew there was a different side to life. I wasn't fed on McDonalds and told to fuck off and play whilst the parents relax. I wasn't allowed to stay out until 5am and drink and get drugged up until I couldn't walk, and if I was caught I was in serious trouble. I always knew the life that I was leading wasn't constructive to fulfilling it.

I do think I'm one of the lucky ones. That I was shown a way out at the beginning; that I had positive role models in my life. I've connected with my old friends on Facebook from back then and I see that nothing's changed. Still, no-one gives a fuck about them, and yet, neither do they because no-one has shown them a way out. It's the only life they've ever known. I've had people outright call me a boring bastard when I've dared to suggest going sober for a few weeks when clearly alcohol is a hindrance to them rather than a support. Don't get me wrong though, I'm not judging these people. These people have more right to whine than I have, and it's why each and every one of them have a space in my heart and on my magazine should they ever wish to tell their truths. How Dad wasn't there and Mum was too pissed up to care, etc.

I wish they would.

Perspective is a funny thing, though. When all you've known is self preservation then how will you ever learn about unconditional love? If no-one shows you love then how will you know what it is? You can hear about it, and make your own assumptions, but until someone shows you it, how will you know? How will you know it's different either? It's taken a long journey for me to realise that my perspective isn't central to the universe; that my take on the world is but a tiny pinprick in a large body of water. How do you know that the way you perceive love is different to anyone else?

How do you know unless you ask honestly and get prepared to not be offended by what you hear?

Rene Descartes famously states, "Cogito ergo sum," (I think; therefor I am) but actually, in today's terms, now that we've become so much more aware of ourselves, it should be, "I think; therefor I have between a basic and advanced awareness of self"

That's what it boils down to really. The ability to perceive other states outwith your own self, to understand that there is more to life than your own perspective, and that my balance is incredibly different to your balance. Not that there's anything wrong with that per se, but if we were more aware of ourselves and the larger environment of the society we occupate, then we would be more inclined to be socially responsible and strive for the positives in life that we would like to have, rather than be boxed in a hole and not able to punch our way out.

Yeah, life sucked for me at one point. But I had a way out.

If you read this and you need a way out, ask yourself,

Am I happy? Why am I not happy? What should change?

And change it.

Be well, friends :)