…is the story of my life.
Generally speaking, dysfunction has the potential to create a debilitating pain.
Yet, it is such a part of me that I often wonder whether I would have any idea of what to do with something that was not dysfunctional. You know…something normal! I mean it has literally found a way of continuously permeating through my very existence: my childhood, my family, my relationships and even the choices I have made. In the end, my dysfunction has become such an intricately woven web of viability, that it has somehow caused me to become an entirely functional being…in spite of this deeply maladjusted state I find myself in. Still, I somehow feel as though insanity has quietly tiptoed its way in whenever I catch myself thinking that even an ounce of normalcy could radiate from my soul and yet it does.
So here I am batting at this forever dangling question of how this could have happened. How was I able to achieve my definition of success after everything I had survived? How am I able to strut through life exuding this seemingly confident smile while others’ lives come to a halt as they are completely incapacitated by less? For quite some time I have believed that it has less to do with the event itself, and more to do with the overall effect. I still believe this plays a role, but I am also thinking there is something much more deeply rooted.
Recently, I heard someone say that “change only occurs when the pain is greater than the fear,” and I wondered whether this might explain why some are able to find strength in the pain of this exceedingly dysfunctional world, as others begin secluding themselves from any potential happiness. For me, I had repeatedly stumbled upon such maddeningly torturous circumstances that I found no other option but to make serious life changes. It was almost as though I had reached a point of such indescribable suffering that I had finally surrendered my soul, which somehow allowed my internal flame to burn with an undeniable passion for a life where I had previously found no meaning. Any fear that I once had began seeping from my pores until there was none. My existence found purpose, even if only for a fleeting moment.
Then I come across others who are not fortunate enough to have even those fleeting moments. Who become imprisoned in a self-imposed jail of unimaginable misery that fancies nothing but their nearly lifeless souls, yet they are left unable to see that the power really lies within. Instead, their hearts swell with an aching desire to stand with immeasurable strength seemingly easy for others, while their minds fail at understanding that this strength is not something given. It is earned. Still, their visions are blurred and their legs are weighed down by cemented walls continuously blocking their minds’ natural feed leaving them unable to break through to a freer existence. So how do we find a way to provide them with those legs of steel they so long for while infusing their souls with the staggeringly beautiful colors of our twisted world, when their unwilling eyes instinctively filter everything into black and white? How do we help them in creating a functional dysfunction so they can move forward with life? How do we help them to live?
These appear to be such loaded questions with no readily available solutions. So where do we go from here? We come together.