Dance the Night Away

Humans were made to dance. Just like dogs were made to be our best friend. Whales were made to be our friends in the ocean, that’s why they’re so smart and can speak with a dialect similar to ours.

When I was a kid, I can remember walking home one day by myself like I always do, because I was in a rush to make sure I got out first. I would also make sure my left foot crossed the sidewalk cracks first, not for any particular reason. I was just focused on it. One day, two kids walked by going the other way and made a note to say, “You’re walking weird and fast.” Those kids ruined my once peaceful, focused and determined walk home from school every day. It was never the same.

Focus, I think that’s the key here. Have you been through something traumatic? I’m not talking about being told you walk weird, even though clearly that affected me deeply. Over the course of my addiction, I have met people with stories you wouldn’t believe. Regular, ordinary sons and daughters have been through hell on earth - abused, beaten, raped, humiliated, shot, stabbed, arrested. All of these people are sitting in the same room as me, an alcoholic who had every opportunity to succeed presented in life and I managed to seek the same escape.

And yet we are the ones sitting in rehab, while many of the people who were responsible for some of the events described walk free. Some of the things parents have done to children only to have them end up in rehab with no help. Some never had parents.

Is it their fault they are homeless, mentally struggling and drug addicted? Sure, to an extent maybe. Should we shun them and treat them as less than equal just because someone fucked them up when they were children?

Here’s a tough one - “They don’t want help.” That is tough, because I didn’t want help for a very long time. The toll I was taking on my loved ones mentally and emotionally was much harder to see back then, probably somewhat attributed to the IV of alcohol I had connected behind closed doors. I’ll write more about this tomorrow.

As for today, I walk into restaurants with long hair and sandals, and I get asked to pay before I can enjoy my food. I am not homeless (technically I believe the term is houseless, I was never actually homeless, have to be PC of course); I literally just have long hair and I dress comfortably. Just the other day a single man with glasses and short hair was helped immediately, while I waited up front and was questioned about eating alone. Forgive me for walking, with a backpack, and my hair is long. Some people don’t have the luxury of a car.

 Luckily a nice gentleman recognized me from the other day, having dinner with family. Thank you, sir.

Judging people before you have had the opportunity to know what they’ve been through is the biggest mistake I made repeatedly my entire life. Our words and actions can influence people in ways that I never could have possibly realized until I spent some time with addicts and homeless people, because I became one myself.

Whether you think so or not, you may have traumatized someone in the past and it affected their future. I am not asking you to apologize, but I am asking if you can relate to my story. Have you ever been told you walk weird?

We are all connected, and we are not here to spread hate.

There is only room for love. Dance, like absolutely no one is watching you.