TO MY KIDS …

I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow. I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along. There’s something that I hope you’ll remember: That life is not a game, it’s a song. So, take the best parts of me, locked away without the keys, and know that I’m forever by your side. When the lights go down, know that I am never far away. When the Sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey. If you’re reading this, I know you’re feeling sorrow. If you’re hearing this, I know you’re probably scared. Just know that all the things you own are borrowed, and all you get to keep is all you’ve shared. So, wipe away the tears for me, know that we’ve made history. Remember no one ever really dies. When the lights go down, know that I am never far away. When the Sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.

{Five Finger Death Punch}

THIS PICTURE. I sketched it in my early 20’s using the literal ashes from both my father and His ashtrays. At the time, I had no idea the impact this or any of my 32 Sketches would have on me down the road, yet as I look at them now, I can’t help but notice that although I was in very dark place when they were born, something trapped deep inside me was hopeful. Still … this one! It begs the younger me to stay focused on the very bright future I couldn’t see through the fog, yet was patiently beckoning me all the while.

If you know me well, you know that grey is my favorite color, which is evident in my either predominately black and white or changing shades of grey artwork. What’s interesting about this one, though, is how poignantly it reflects upon the mental illness I fought so hard to overcome for the majority of my life long before it was diagnosed.

My disease imprisoned me in dichotomous thinking and held me for ransom in the little boxes inside my mind where I stored all my pain and trauma. Before I put it into remission, I was unable to accept people, situations, emotions, or behaviors as anything other than “good or bad”, “right or wrong”, or “one way or the other”. My entire life was black and white with no room for the grey! I had a defensive view of both the positive and negative qualities of myself and everyone else, and there was no way for my broken psyche to allow anything in between to exist in one cohesive space.

How did this happen?

It’s often been suggested that my “splitting” was the result of severe emotional trauma and psychological abuse from my childhood. I tend to agree. You see, I was raised in a works and deeds based system of love and acceptance. If I was “good”, I was praised, affirmed, and rewarded. If I was “bad“, I was admonished, punished, and rejected. They’d “wash their hands of me” when I screwed up or failed to follow the rules, with zero validation or consideration of my feelings. My mind would “split” as I desperately attempted to shield myself from the constant fear of being abandoned, betrayed, or eviscerated by anyone who claimed to love me. While I don’t believe these traumas were inflicted intentionally, they were real nonetheless, as was the effect they had on my psyche. For years in the wake of not only my broken childhood, but in the wake of my self-inflicted destruction, I felt alone and voiceless, regardless of the people who appeared to be standing beside me. As such, I, myself, attempted suicide on November 8, 1996 and lived to tell about it. But I’ve digressed …

Music has always been an integral part of my mental wealth journey, but one of my favorite bands, Five Finger Death Punch, has been at the forefront of my recovery. Their songs have not only helped identify some of my lost and broken feelings, but also given my former self permission to either cry my feelings to the surface or just yell and scream them out loud! I’d pre-ordered their new album months ago, had been counting the days until release, and was stoked to finally get to listen to it cover to cover while running errands today. Meanwhile, when this song cued up, I had to pull my car into the breakdown lane as the words began cutting me in all the most bittersweet ways. I couldn’t stop the tears and physical heartache, and literally couldn’t breathe. It was one of the most cathartic, fucked up, and beautiful gifts of my life. It was as if he were singing it himself. To me. To her. To Christian. To the very few people he left behind who he ever truly loved and let into his private world. Someday, when it’s time for her to read the letter he wrote but never gave her, I’ll let her hear the song. Knowing God the way I do, when she’s finally able to receive these most alchemical lyrics of both our lives in conjunction with the most impeccable words a secretly dying father could have possibly written to his daughter, they’ll become as significant a part of her healing as they’ve been to mine.

Here’s the thing …

Grey is not just a color to me … IT’S EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! It’s the grace I’ve received that is so undeserved, yet given to me anyway by The One who’s never loved me with conditions. He “takes the best parts of me, locks them away without the key”, and I know He’s never far away. He’s the Light that shines ahead of my journey and dilutes the darkest of my abysses into all the most beautiful shades of grey.

For more than four decades, I lived a black and white existence with no room for the grey I knew I needed but didn’t know how to connect with. The grey is where I found all my truths. As I look back at this picture now, I’m filled with the most unbelievable solace imagineable. It reminds me of just how far I’ve come, that it was always supposed to be this way, and that there’s always a brighter side to all of this bittersweet and beautiful grey.

I’m not gonna lie … it is now my final wish that when it’s time for me to move along, this is the last song I’ll hear as they bid me farewell.