Every few weeks I've been using my spare time at the laundry mat to go on a run. Tonight I decided Id take a literal exercise in perspective to see how far I could carve a way through hell, aka Kensington ave; ground zero to the population I work with and the only horror movie you don't need a netflix account to see.
On these nights I'm typically wearing a beanie, track pants and tonight, my hurling sweatshirt from Ireland. I'm not the most intimidating looking fellow, but I've found in this life when your intentions are strong and pointed, people ether move toward you or away from you based on those intentions.
See exhibit A: about five blocks from the ave. I'm halfway up a block when I sense a group of hispanic homies immediately lock eyes on me, one steps towards the middle of the sidewalk and tilts his chin up. He takes one look at me and steps back. As I stride by one of them mutters, "Oh, hes like a fighter or something." I smile, damn right in my head, and continue to hurdle over what seem like an endless stream of stray cats. Interestingly enough most of them are black. I haven't seen a black cat in a while.
"Pow pow, nugs and nicks" "YO. he said he didn't want the bars" a chorus of soul wrecking invitations all cross my earshot, some of them directed at me. Once I get to the avenue, nobody has enough effort to even notice my existence, except for the police on the corner, probably wondering if my dynamic hamstring stretch on the light post is some kind of secret look out signal.
"Pow pow, nugs and nicks" "YO. he said he didn't want the bars" a chorus of soul wrecking invitations all cross my earshot, some of them directed at me. Once I get to the avenue, nobody has enough effort to even notice my existence, except for the police on the corner, probably wondering if my dynamic hamstring stretch on the light post is some kind of secret look out signal.
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| Forgive, Grow. Kensington Ave. Credit: Tishara Grayson (Tishara Grayson) |
As I make my way back down the avenue I start to feel an overwhelming sense of death, transmitted through the nodded out, unconscious users sprawled out on stoops. Some of them have needles in their arms, others are screaming at nothing, and everything. The smell of rotten meat and piss is the only unpleasant sensory experience I find it difficult to block out. When I turn back down the block for the laundry mat I realize the depth of the grid I just added to my mental rolodex, all in just under thirty minutes.
The sad part is, Philadelphia isn't the only city this movie is airing, its happening anywhere people turn a blind eye to the suffering happening all around them, starting with those closest to us. What I've learned in my few short years practicing therapy is that this is a disease of disconnection; a disconnection from spirit, a disconnection from others and a disconnection from self. It doesn't discriminate and it doesn't play favorites.
If you have never struggled with or been addicted to substances, sex, money or food, then you most likely know someone or loved someone who has. I've been upside down before, and the only thing that saved me were the supports I had and my own decision to seek out a greater purpose and meaning from it all.
If you have never struggled with or been addicted to substances, sex, money or food, then you most likely know someone or loved someone who has. I've been upside down before, and the only thing that saved me were the supports I had and my own decision to seek out a greater purpose and meaning from it all.
If you've made it this far, I hope you too are doing something for your personal healing, growth or self care. Share it with the world, you don't know how far it can go.
