Hi Zachary,
Do you prefer Zach or Zachary? Perhaps your moniker of Phat
Love? Something that was created as half self-punishing and half-lighthearted
joke at your reality but evolved into something you use for several of your
platforms now. Do you still look in the mirror and see that same teenager
filled with anger and depression? Do you still regret losing George and Kyle?
Maybe the gay jokes weren't enough to justify dying on that hill.
I personally blame your father still for being an exemplary
example of what a man looks like. Do you agree that he stunted your emotional
growth? That if he had allowed you to know that sharing your feelings with
words could have prevented the events that resulted in the worst year of your
life following those events. Do you ever ponder what life would have been like
to still have those friends after graduation? You saw George at college, but
any interaction was just angry glances from afar. You really fucked that up, in
my opinion, with both of them.
Do you still do that thing where you sit in the dark to a
playlist you made of sad music, just so you can cry and feel absolutely and
unequivocally miserable? I'm glad you stopped doing that. To be honest, I'm
glad you stopped a lot of things. I'll get more into that in a second. Zach,
your teenage years are, in my opinion, critical to your development. You form
real bonds with others in this time. Are you friends with anyone from high
school? I don't think you are. It's a shame that you had the chance to form
some of your best relationships and it was stolen from you.
Do you remember that poem you wrote about your dad? The one
that was too dark to enter the school’s poetry competition so you put in in an
unfinished story about a teenager that, in the end, had you finished writing
it, would have killed themself? Why did you never finish that story when you
felt so strongly about it? Was this when you first experienced your depression?
No, I recall it was sooner this this. Possibly in your childhood.
Do you still not remember your childhood? I find that to be
sad, really. That you had possibly such a bad childhood that you blocked it
from your memories. Do the bits and pieces you remember give you enough? Saying
"it wasn't all bad" is such an excuse, honestly. In my observation, I
can honestly say that it was all bad. The moments you smiled were only blinders
you created for the rest of your developmental growth. False trust that later
got you hurt. It breaks my heart to know that you can't go back in time. It
does no good to focus on the past but, boy, does it really hurt to think about
it.
Is your inner child screaming at the top of his lungs? Like
the lake of fire has already consumed him, terror and writhing his only
existence, and you're terrified that if you don't change, you'll join him and
watch others in heaven for all eternity while you're in never ending pain. Why
would God want you to be a busted toy? And on that topic, why would God want
you to suffer all for the narrative of a testimony? Why did we get this
morality and humanity if it was, by design, imperfect?
Just look at the timeline Zach. Daddy screamed at you, told
you that you would never amount to anything and you proved him right. Failed
friendship after another, failed relationship after another. Any attempt at
being loved squashed by the reality that you were only useful for a free meal,
sex or temporary conversation. Nothing lasted. Only one relationship did.
What was different about Jennifer? She had all the
ingredients for another heartbreak. Such an expected thing, really. You
idolized her, fantasized about some grandiose gesture on your part yet you
looked at the ground and ran away from her. You did what you were taught and
got in your own way. That self-doubt is a stupid thing. It killed you before
you ever had the chance to live.
It was written all over your face that you were a walking
red flag, but it was night shift and nobody else was around. I fully believe
that if you had been on day shift, that relationship would have never evolved
into what it became. Seriously. For all your faults, you still loosely believed
in God and fate, romance and love at first sight. You were a romantic at heart
but were beaten into thinking it was only for storybooks and fairytales.
That tiny mustard seed of hope is what saved you, in my
opinion. Sure, you were a desperate and emotionally underdeveloped young adult,
but that fantasy played in your head of you and Jennifer in a musical, synced
choreography and singing. Those thoughts make the adult Zach glow yet the
adolescent Zach writhe in burning rage. Your creativity had been snuffed back
in those days.
I've gotten off track though. Sort of shows you how your
brain can't stay focused without jumping ship on one thought and going to
another. My question though, remains. I think the difference with Jennifer was
her patience. I truly believe she saw how absolutely off base you were
chemically and still chose to interact with you because she, well, firstly had
no other options at night, but mostly because she saw something in you that you
didn't.
You want to hear a thought that blows my mind? When you meet
someone brand new, a stranger, you know absolutely nothing about them. If they
have trauma or none at all, you don't know. I've heard my whole life that
kindness should be your default because you don't know someone else's story and
yet it never sunk in until the last few years, what that really meant.
Sure, there's the obvious being kind to others side of
things, but going deeper, it literally means that someone's story is unwritten
to a stranger and can go anywhere. It's a blank page waiting, begging for words
to be written. Does that stranger share what they have written in their book,
or do they put on a persona that writes a different story and masks the
unpleasant parts?
You see what I'm trying to say Zach? Jennifer had a blank
page of your story, and you could have woven a grand adventure for her to get
invested in or you could have drafted a story of childhood abuse and
depression. The loneliest man to ever not take his life out of some ridiculous
religious fear of prosecution! The human experience really isn't one for the
faint of heart though and you pushed through.
Every other woman grimaced at your words, used your wallet
or body and being finished soon after, left you to your devices. The story of
your life that Jennifer received was enough for her to dig into the trenches
and get to know you. Perhaps her morbid curiosity was peaked and her interest
in the macabre was being fulfilled by your life story? Like how a wounded
animal might make one cry and another excited to do an autopsy.
God is real, Zachary. You can't deconstruct so far that you
stop believing that. You've witnessed too many examples of his existence. Even
today, you run and hide in this carved out corner of your mind on Sundays to
avoid going back to church, yet you feel that conviction every time that you
are doing the wrong thing. Like when you do something wrong and feel the
immediate guilt afterwards. Stop pushing your life away! Go and live life it to
its fullest while you still can.
Why do you also frame things the way you do? Have you
noticed that you always try to use vocabulary that gives a certain image? Why
describe your wife as only interested in you because you're a morbid creature
of the night? This isn't a twisted fairytale, and you are human, emotional and
flawed, just like her. She married you because of a desire to spend her whole
life by your side. This was celebrated and should continue to be for as long as
you draw breath. Lay off the allegories and be honest about certain
things.
Speaking of being honest, I've noticed something inside of
you lately. You recently peeled back the skin on a suffering scar you never
knew lay dormant inside. You kept putting all the blame on your father but
where was your mom? You worked through that and even took time away from your
family to heal but yet recently, you're seeing things about your mother that
you hadn't seen before.
This hurts you Zach and I can tell the burden of not having
at least one parent to make excuses for is causing you suffering. Your mom
loves you, but she is also one of those flawed humans mentioned earlier. How do
you plan to move forward? Perhaps talking to your therapist will provide
useful! Getting an unbiased third party involved could be just what your
situation needs.
At the end of the day, as I am running this communication
long, there will be times when you feel like no progress has been made and
there will be other days when the smile on your face feels permanent. You keep
pushing forward though. I think that's the real takeaway here.
That loneliness never left, you just learned how to take the
lead and develop ways to push forward. Don't you ever stop doing that! Your
life story or testimony, whatever it's called, is yours. Write a story with
your actions that shows you aren't done yet.
Until next time, and forever your friend,
Zachary