We're Fucked No Matter What

I used to genuinely think that it mattered what I do.
 
I used to really believe that I had to think a certain way, act a certain way, do certain things, or speak a certain way. I had to define myself. I had to be somebody. Otherwise, I would be a nobody. Who wants to be a nobody?
 
My solution to not be a nobody was to create myself. What do I like? What do I not like? Let’s start there. I’m a social person. If I do this, I attract these types of people. If I do that, I attract another sort. I like nature. I like the country. I like country music. I like country people. How do country people act? Let’s be that. Get the clothes, get the accent, and adopt the lifestyle. Put on the mask of country boy! I got accepted.
 
The problem came when I started to adopt everything including thoughts, words, stories, beliefs, and actions. I didn’t know it, but I started to draw lines. Then the lines were fully there. I am a country boy. I am not all those other things.
 
I’ve always been a kind person. I never wanted to see people hurting. I prayed for the ambulance, police car, or firetruck I saw screaming down the road. I wanted whoever, wherever or whatever they were going to save to be ok. I like all types of people accept bullies because mine were mean. I liked being rough like any other boy, but I did not like to fight, but I did have a lot of fight in me. I believed in Jesus, but not like the others. I believed in him like you believe in a friend. Not because I was told to do it, but because he was always there. Like a breeze that caresses your skin on a hot day. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.
 
Eventually, I thought I had to be somebody, so somebody I became. No matter what I chose to be, I always embraced the title and definition that came with it to the maximum and sometimes, I even put away my feelings to do it. Maybe I didn’t want to do a certain thing at a certain time or think a certain way that others were thinking at that time. But I was a somebody and everybody else was doing, saying, and thinking those things so I better get on board or I might not fit in. That was not acceptable. I had to be somebody even if it meant sacrificing my goodness to do it.
 
Wearing masks was fun as a kid. Pretending to be someone or something else was creative, fun, and encouraged my creativity. I’ve always had a healthy imagination, so I was very good at taking on the character of whatever mask I put on as a child. I would learn about the character from my parents, schoolmates, or TV so I would know exactly what I had to do while wearing the mask.
 
I didn’t know I was learning how to act. I didn’t put away the masks as an adult either. I simply chose other masks.
 
I could always “fit in” with whatever situation I was in as an adult. I guess I could say that I adapted quickly to my surroundings and would adjust my thoughts, words, and actions to suit the environment. I could be in any place, with just about anyone, and fit myself into the mask I needed to wear to be accepted. Being a nobody was unacceptable, so this was my way of ensuring that I was always a somebody. I loved being the center of attention and would earn this if I could, but as long as I was accepted, that’s really all that mattered. I could sing, dance, love, tell jokes, drink, gossip, act stupid, perform daring stunts, pull pranks, tell stories, and lie my ass off to gain the favor of the room. I had a closet full of masks that served me very well in younger days. Or so I thought.
 
The thing about wearing my masks is that I always had to take them off at some point. Usually, when nobody else was around, I could take my mask off. I’d be home alone or out riding solo and I didn’t have to wear a mask. I always had them close by just in case, but I could just be me for a second. Problem was, I didn’t know who that was supposed to be. I relied so heavily on my masks that not having one on became absolute chaos. I started to wear them even when I was alone. I always had to be somebody otherwise I was nobody… nothing… I didn’t exist.
 
The fear of not existing led me down some dangerous roads. The chaos that ensued when I didn’t have a mask to wear was poisonous. The remedy for my chaos was alcohol. It numbed my mind, so I didn’t think. It numbed my mind, so I didn’t care. The problem came when it numbed my mind to the point that I didn’t know which mask I had on.
 
As I got older, I got a little more serious about life as it pertains to job, relationships, and responsibilities. But I never abandoned my masks. I’ve lived in a dozen different places and I always packed my masks first when I moved. I picked up the title of sailor, husband, and father eventually and learned how to wear those masks. I picked up the title of suburban neighbor, country music entertainer, and gardener. I learned how to wear those masks too.
 
Wearing masks is exhausting. Trying to define myself was more exhausting. Stewing all that exhaustion in alcohol was most exhausting. I was a shit-storm tornado on a daily basis. If my current mask did not allow me to outwardly express “shit-storm tornado,” I would hold it all in. Problem is, all that would come out at the wrong, most inconvenient time. I would wake up figuratively covered in shit. Everything around me and everyone around me was covered in shit too.
 
Shame, guilt, and, many times, the question, “What the | front door | happened?”
 
I couldn’t keep up with it. Too many masks. I could see the frustration building in the people around me.
 
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” They would say.
 
When I heard that question enough times, eventually it got through. No matter where I went or who I was around, the same problems kept following me around.
 
I don’t know who else is like me, but when I started to become afraid of certain events in my future because I knew it was likely to become a problem, I knew there was a change that needed to happen.
 
But I refused. I clung to the definition I had adopted with all my strength (which had drained significantly). Something had to give, and it finally did. To put it mildly, it was inconvenient. To put it truthfully, it very well could have either taken my life or put me behind bars for a very long time.
 
Wake up call. At the time, I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know why I survived that night. I had very little recollection of what had happened besides standing on the road surrounded by 7 well-uniformed men and women in the middle of the night. No mask was going to get me out of this one. I was royally | front-doored |. Those officers were probably the first people to see the real me in a long time.
 
“Who am I?” After that night, the question burned in my head. How did I survive? How am I still here? Why? How did I not go to jail? What the | front door | am I supposed to do now? A very sobering moment occurred. I have absolutely no idea. No way to possibly explain that night. I don’t know.
 
“Who am I?”
 
When I really started pondering that question, it started me on a journey. I was like a brand-new baby opening my eyes for the first time ever. The world was different, but I didn’t know how. I knew I was still alive (at least it felt like I was), but I knew it was different. I was different.
 
The world is a scary place when you don’t know who you are. Without my masks, I had to discover the real me. Without the alcohol, I had to make peace of all the chaos inside of me.
 
“Who am I?”
 
The question would shake me to my core. I had fits of depression, anger, sadness, and anxiety.
 
“Why did I survive?”
 
My definition didn’t serve me. I needed a new one. Or did I? Why do I need a definition? A definition required a mask. That’s not going to work. I should be dead or rotting in a cell. My masks got me there. I’m not doing that again.
 
“Why am I still here?”
 
Do you know what I came up with? Just to be. I’m just here to be me. I don’t need to do anything. I don’t need to be anyone. I don’t need to think or have an opinion. I don’t need to say anything. I can just be.
 
I felt the wind on my face. I saw the trees differently and appreciated their dance. I loved the warmth of the sun. I hugged my wife and held her tighter. I saw my children playing and I smiled. I may not know who I am, but this feels pretty good.
 
I love to tell you that life got easier from that point and happily ever after. But that would be bullshit. I have learned how to live without my masks and without a definition, but it took until now to figure out that I can.
 
Life is a journey. The road to really living is very narrow and difficult. I’d like to say it’s easier to join the crowd and put on the masks. But it’s not. I’d like to say that it’s easier to define yourself in this world and live by that definition. But it’s not. It’s not easy to have to maintain the idea that I have to be somebody.
 
Why would I want to define myself and confine myself to that definition? Then I always have to live up to the expectations of that definition. I have to set lines and live within the lines of that definition. I have to judge whether or not some other person, place, or thing fits into my definition. I have to live with boundaries.
 
Children don’t have boundaries. They don’t see them. They see a wide-open world that is theirs to explore and just “be” in. Children are fearless until they are instilled with fear. They look at the world in awe and wonder, fascinated by everyone and everything they meet. No boundaries. No defintions. No masks.
 
Children are not always positive. They are emotional beings after all. They experience and express all of their emotions freely with purity and integrity. But they don’t dwell on them or over analyze them. They just are what they are at the time they want to be that.
 
Children do not change until they learn from the world that they have to be somebody. That’s where the journey of self-discovery begins. Some of them will figure it out. Some of them will not. Some will adopt masks. Some will not.
 
Some of us will realize that we have overcomplicated everything. We will wake up to the fact that we are caught in the shit-storm tornado of chaos that is destroying the world – our world. Some of us will abandon the masks and make the hard | front door-ing | decision that REAL LIFE is not supposed to be experienced with masks, definitions, expectations, and judgements.
 
The way I see it, many of us “adults” live in hell. There is no regard for the natural way of life. We take, take, take, survive, survive, survive, and me, me, me, ourselves into a vicious cycle of death before we die. Lines are drawn, battles are fought, wars ensue, and more death is the result. The definitions we hold ourselves to confine us to a box. We have to fit the mold of our box or we fear we are nobody, nothing, and lack existence here. Our fear of nonexistence is killing us every day because we don’t even know how to exist without the addiction that we have to the fear hormone. We judge, persecute, torture, destroy, take without gratitude, set false expectations, and live without the slightest understanding of the power of Love.
 
We live death. Every. Single. Waking. Moment. Is. Hell.
 
Children don’t do any of that. Every day is exciting. Everything is exciting. No expectations. Radical acceptance of freedom without bounds. Radical love without conditions. Easy come, easy go. No chains. No baggage. No masks.
 
Why do adults think they can raise children?
 
It’s time to wake up. I now know why I survived. I now know why I am still here. I am her to be the sounding bell for those willing to listen. I am here to be the shining light on the mountain for those willing to see.
 
I want to experience the world like a new child again. Ever see a child set free in nature to play? Look at how joyful they are!
 
We’re fucked no matter what we do if we continue to resist the call to change. News flash, nobody makes it out of here alive. Politics won’t save you. Religion won’t save you. Your definition and your masks definitely will not save you from dying one day. I guarantee they will keep you in an existence void of true meaning and purpose.
 
Will you resist the call to rediscover your true nature? Happy. Balanced. Whole. Creative.
 
What you do… matters. Who you really are… matters. Not your definitions. Not your masks. You. Just You. The real YOU. The natural, God-formed, human being.
 
“Who am I?” Go Play! Discover. Adventure. Nature. Fearless. Find out.
 
You are a child of Mother Earth. Not a child of the world. You are not alone.
 
Matthew 19:14 Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”