Just Keep Breathing
On your last breath, how strong would you be? How long could/would you keep swimming, IF it meant you would live to breath one-more-day? Letâs think Titanic gone Gods of the Galaxy, taking down the bad in Harry PotterâŚwhere in the world could I be going with this one? Umâ-On, DaisyâŚGet real, already - this is Dora Finding Nemo. What I am saying - asking rather - is when you are at your very lowest/scariest/hardest/weakest moment - in a sink-or-swim scenario - how far would you be able to swim? Well, because Iâm me, and we are - healing-while-writing/reading  (and I had me a mini-painting therapy sesh since I started thisâŚ) Anyways, think with meâŚgo back to Disney and how we prepare our kids for their first dream crush (Rudolph <= Santa.)âŚonly to keep crushing their creative_and_ever_so_growing brains as they turn into teenagers. Eventually those kids have to fly - with or without us - and as parents, we gotta teach our babes how to fly - Because at some point, they are going flyn with or without your ass.Â
Now keep rollingâŚbackwards. As adults, we canât continue to blame our parents for doing their damn best, with what they had at the time. Thatâs the thing with trauma - it exists within generations. And it exists within scienceâŚand educationâŚand learning from the past. At some point, our parents have to become our friendsâŚ.even though we are born-braised-and-raised to believe the opposite is true. My past kept me from allowing myself the opportunity to let go of some other things (aka - let your brain run wild with me, Iâve lost a lot), like missing people - my olâ school homies - that I didnât realize I could find, without looking.Â
This is where trauma gets trickyâŚand donât get me wrong. I ainât no doctorâŚbut I have dealt with it personally, so I am breaking it down - from the opposite kind of angle. Sometimes we have more than we even know. And sometimes the hurt feels so strongly, that some of the bad portions start slowly creeping up. You guysâŚin the midst of my wildest-fucking-break-down, I basically mind-mapped the darkest_days_of_my_past, like the things you are taking to your grave with you (from your rents, that is), and gave it to my dad in an effort of letting him help me pick up the piecesâŚso jokes on me - or was at first. Now, I am trying to laugh in the humility of the entire awkward experience that we shall never speak aboutâŚbecause thatâs how it went in my house. Come back to family now - because, sometimes, when nothing else exists, your family is there holding the pieces and helping you glue them back together.
And thatâs actually where I learned how to be so strong. See, crazy story about a super-hero type of man that raised my dadâŚHis name was Edward Hergott and he was my Grandpa. He was a man of few words, at least around me, but he didnât always have to say very much. And I donât know the whole story - so long story short, he was honored with a Purple Heart from the time he served with the Army - for basically telling his commanding officer to stand the fuck down - in order to save his troop  I never got to say goodbye to him (from cancer years and years later, like well into my life) but I do believe in a certain type of reincarnation, the Disney Moana version of course - and I know if he were still here in some type of way, that he wouldnât have any question where his Wonder-Woman-n-en granddaughter would end up at.Â
And that comes back to blood - and some being thicker than others. You donât have to go out like whatever you are currently at. You can always find a way to grow. To Co-Exist with the other-side. To at the very fucking least, be more understanding of. We all have things that are burning inside of us. We all have things from our past that we are not the most proud of. And we can either live with those things or we can learn to let go of them.Â













