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I’ve been told many times, over the course of my life, I was too sensitive, or “over-reacted” too often. In context, it was generally intended to indicate I wasn’t somehow manly or masculine enough. It seemed for some reason the depths of my emotional responses, my philosophical ways and my love of writing and the arts, etc. were indicative of a lack of control or strength.
As I traveled through life, at least for a decade or so, I became rather adept at repressing much of my personality with drugs and alcohol. That season came to an end when I entered the road to recovery in 1992, and I began to reclaim not only myself, but my life as well. I vowed when I got clean and sober, I would learn who I truly was and embrace it. It took years for me to accomplish this; the price was high.
Regardless, I will never again apologize for a shed tear, a tender thought, an emotional response to a given situation or for reacting passionately to anything or anyone. I haven’t for many a year now. Am I perfect now? No. Do I sometimes struggle? Absolutely yes. Will I ever be satisfied with who I see myself as? It appears it will, in all likelihood, never happen.
It’s the principle which changed me; enabling me to come to terms with my troubled past, embracing both positive and negative character traits. The good Doctor, Pat Hudson, my psychologist, has been invaluable in helping me to accept who I am is not defined by what I may or may not have done in my past.
I enjoy many things this world has to offer and am rather passionate about some. I take as much pride in my poetry as I do in my marksmanship, though I believe I am a better shot than a poet. I am not afraid to embrace my emotions, or lack there-of. Thanks to the one I refer to as the Lady Ahzmandia, I was able to offer solace to two young ladies from Chicago who suffered physical and emotional abuse beyond what many could comprehend, let alone believe.
Sensitive men aren’t weak. Men who have been blinded by their egos, deceiving themselves into believing they are strong because they are dispassionate, are the weak. They are pathetic caricatures of what a
man was meant to be by the Creator. They mistake kindness for weakness and possessions for wealth. They turn their backs on the poor and suffering, all the while professing to be followers of God.
One thing I have never been able to reconcile within me, I have nothing but contempt for men like that; I doubt it will ever change. Especially when it comes to men who abuse their wives and seek to control their lives as though she was a possession.
I would love to blame my drug and alcohol abuse on someone, or something, but I never have, and never will. I did what I did with a free will. I take responsibility for my actions and behaviors, before and after I entered recovery. I have embraced my character traits, whether perceived good or bad by others. I have done emotional and physical harm to others, both intentionally and unintentionally. I have violated the laws of society without remorse and helped to obtain justice for those the system failed. I have made may an amend for my past actions, and yet I am still estranged from my children. I cannot undo what is done.
The past is the past and there is no way to truly repair the damage done. Only time will tell if those relationships can be salvaged.
I lost years of my life, squandered if you will, attempting to be someone I wasn’t. It won’t happen again. I am who I have always been. I am who I was meant to be. I will be who I am long after I have forgotten who I was. I am loved by enough people in my life to feel no compulsion for others to know or accept me. It is the desire of my heart to never again trade the future for the past.
Never again will I accept the judgment of another I am less than who or what I should be; how they perceive me, how they feel about me or how I choose to express myself or my feelings.
I will never again apologize for my passions or my lack of acceptance for others. I feel no need to justify my beliefs, my relationship with my Creator or nature.
I am through explaining my past or my feelings about anything or everything which touches my life simply because someone chooses to take offense with me. I can’t, for there may very well come a day when I will forget the events and experiences of life that made me who I am, and then perhaps, I will truly understand the meaning of regret.
A book worth reading!
The poetry in this book can really make you feel, the emotions portrayed really comes out. You can feel his love for his wife and the pain he has experienced in life. In the book you will read bits and pieces of the author's life so you get a glimpse into who he is that makes you want more of his story.
Some of them I read over and over, getting something different each time, which is really amazing to me.
I received this book as a gift from a friend of the author. It is the only book I own. I was never much of a reader growing up and have never bought a book in my 50 plus years, let alone read one all the way through. When I am reading his poetry I find myself blocking out the world around me. It's something I never expected. I have laughed and cried while reading them. I can't really explain the effect it has on me, other than to say that it takes me away and I feel things I haven't felt before. I keep it on my nightstand and read one or two almost every night before going to sleep. I recommend this book to anyone that likes poetry, and even to those who think they don't, like me before I started reading it.
I won this book in a recent Goodreads First Reads giveaway.
I very rarely read poetry, as it usually doesn't hold my interest. This book is one of a very few that I have enjoyed and kept my interest until the end. I shall be keeping this book on my shelf to read again sometime. Recommended.
It was amazing!
A wonderful collection of poems that held my interest. I would really recommend.
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