One of my first memories is of my parents arguing and then becoming a physical altercation. The noise of it, in particular, was so loud that I retreated to my bedroom, playing by myself on the floor.
Apparently, it happened often enough that one day a teacher remarked, ‘John focuses so intensely, if a bomb went off, he wouldn’t move.’
Over the years, loud noises like city traffic, or even concerts and sporting events were overwhelming on a sensory level. Everything felt so big and in my face, I couldn’t figure out how to not be invaded by my environment.
As I grew up I found refuge walking alone, listening to music.
Isn’t it ironic …
Music was most likely my first babysitter.
My mom would set me in front of Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video as a kid, and I LOVED IT! That is actually the 1st memory that I can recall. The one mentioned earlier, happened after.
I didn’t know Michael was black, I just knew what he was doing was what I wanted to be doing, because he made life fun.
I just didn’t tell anyone …
At 3 or 4 years old, many decisions are made sub-consciously, like me knowing that I wanted to sing and perform like Michael at such a young age. Except the barrier was obviously my ability to communicate that in a way to garner support. It was just something I knew.
Life had other plans, at least, for the earlier portions of my life. Making music wasn’t something my family did, it was just something I wanted to do, but had no idea as to how to go about it, so I didn’t.
Parts of those plans, however, were decisions I made, and at the time, what I thought I wanted. For example, playing football instead of an instrument.
Your parents can’t save you …
I remember in 5th grade their was a class where I got to play those big hand bells and I thought it was one of the coolest things I’d ever done, but I didn’t go home and tell anyone about it.
That same year I remember seeing a kid with her violin going to practice and wondering, ‘how could I do something like that’? But still, didn’t speak up.
I wasn’t confident in the response I’d get.
So, I stuffed it …
I mean, I did end up a pudgy, overweight teen because I stuffed it so much – food, that is.
Internally, my emotional self was fighting with my psychology, and it wasn’t something I could articulate in a way that made sense to anyone. I just hurt.
It was the other stuffing (not Stove Top), but, denying my feelings by covering it up with food, that was the pattern I’d created in order to feel safe and able to function.
That got me into trouble …
Pizza, Cheesesteaks and Mickey D’s were the early friends of my teen years. It was easier to swallow 20 nuggets than talk about stuff that could get me into more trouble, like people using my feelings against me.
I wasn’t sure who I could trust, but I was sure I couldn’t trust anyone, so, I didn’t.
At 16, I fucking knew everything, like every 16 year old does everywhere, and was ready for people to fuck off and stop telling me what to do.
That ship sank miserably …
If you’re 16 and reading this, all I can tell you is you may not know everything yet, though, I understand why you think you do and salute your persistence … and if you’ll hang on a few more nights, and years, perhaps you’ll understand the pearl of wisdom here.
When you build your ship full of holes (things you haven’t seen yet), don’t be mad when it doesn’t float (everybody else’s boat).
That’s the way to ensure lifelong loneliness.
I never minded being alone until I realized it wasn’t a conscious decision, it was a survival strategy, and then the noise stopped. I was at ease in my body and with others, handling way more choppy surf.
Will you build a bigger boat?
When you hurt, and you feel alone because someone did something to you that you don’t know how to talk about, it’s ok.
We don’t need to hurt other people, or ourselves, but it is ok to not be ok – too hurt, and still be able to live.
Even that tiny step toward saving yourself (allowing grace) while sparing others (your pain) is resilient, and increases your capacity to withstand a few more waves of life.
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