To This Day by Shane Koyczan

This work of art is so incredibly beautiful.  It’s a poem about growing up bullied and hopeless and how it affects us as adults.  His words of encouragement to all of us are so lovely.  I’ve added the lyrics here, just because I love to read them.  I’ll put my favorite parts in bold.  Tell me your favorite lines!!!

When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to kill himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this shit
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there’s something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a clique
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don’t worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
fuck off we made it
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me

of course
they did

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty.

I’m in love.  Please please tell me your favorite lines, or your reactions to this, or whatever.

on guilt.

I made someone mad tonight, by telling him that he made uncomfortable.  I didn’t mean to make him mad…I only wanted him to understand.  To avoid feeling that way again.  And now I’m not sure I’ll see him again.  He was so shocked that anyone would tell him he’d made them feel less than totally comfortable and safe in his presence, that a situation would ever arise that could make my statement true, that he might have run just to make it all go away (but now I’m just guessing).

And I feel guilty.

I don’t feel bad for waking him up to the possibility that he could make such a mistake.  That probably shouldn’t come as such a surprise…realistic self-awareness is a healthy, necessary trait.  Being able to see someone else’s perspective is one of those basic interpersonal skills, and I’m not sure he can see this one from my perspective.  I don’t feel bad for telling him he made me uncomfortable.  He did, and while he doesn’t need to apologize for it, he does need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.  I think I’m upset because…well, because he’s upset, if that makes any sense.

I have a thing about making everyone else happy at my own expense, and I’m working on not doing that anymore.  This is one of the first times I’ve stood up for myself so solidly.  (He couldn’t know that, of course, so maybe he saw this as an over-dramatization of a simple situation.  Which would be fair.)  To be perfectly honest I really hate that I upset someone else.  I just don’t want him to feel bad about himself!  He doesn’t need to, not over this!!  I like him as a person, I want to be around him, I want to see him smile because I think that’s a good thing.  Sigh.  I hate that I probably lost a friend by saying something.  It almost feels like the universe is saying, “That was a poor choice… don’t do it again.”  If I hadn’t though, I might’ve ended up in that situation again and that wouldn’t be good (I might not have ended up there either, but to let that be a possibility…).  I might’ve gone back down that “Keep your thoughts to yourself because you’re crazy and they’re not” path.  I can’t do that again.

Okay I’m done feeling sorry for myself for the night.  Does anyone else hate Valentine’s Day??  (I’m bitter for reasons other than the above)

on apathy.

Two posts in one day…wow.

Today, a friend told me something surprisingly enlightening (not that I find her lacking in wisdom, but I was not expecting this particular statement to be so extensively applicable).

The conversation started when my friend told me that she has decided to go back to therapy. I think this is wonderfully honest and self-empowering…it’s hard to admit it when we need extra advice, support, or guidance (duh, you know that). My friend is so careful about taking care of her body and mind–she exercises, meditates, keeps a journal, etc (I don’t know where she gets this motivation, but I am impressed)–so it’s not like she hasn’t done everything to figure it all out alone. Her reason for seeking counseling is that she’s been working on figuring out…everything (we’re in that stage of our lives) and she decided she simply can’t do it alone. What I found shocking was the other half of her reason: “I don’t always care about my own well being.”

This is not, of course, a new concept. For those with depression, it’s old news. Of course you stop caring about your health, future, and whatever else during a depressive episode…we all know that. It’s on the standard list of symptoms…apathy.

What about, then, outside of our depressive episodes? What about that week when you feel lonely and more than a little weak compared to the rest of the world? What about the winter (FOR AN EXAMPLE LOOK OUTSIDE BECAUSE IT’S AWFUL) when you know it’s not a full blast of depression but you know (from experience) you’re not going to be at your best? Or those who only have SAD? We know it’s not that we don’t care about our well being. We’ve done so much to get to where we are–our jobs, our educations, our relationships with our families and friends–so it could not possibly be that we don’t care. Some of us care a whole hell of a lot, otherwise we’d have been long gone (see previous post…sorry, it’s weighing a bit on my mind today).

Personally, I’ve done so much in the last three years to prove that I do care, that I value the people around me, that I really do love and deserve this life and the blessings I’ve been given. I’ve earned back my parents’ trust, created healthy, stable, lasting friendships, started at a new university, changed majors, gotten my grades back up, found and kept more than one part time job… (please excuse my little self-affirmation). So why, oh why, do I start to throw those amazing things away (like literally right now, when I’m writing this post instead of sleeping so I won’t be falling asleep at work in the morning)? Why do I stop caring about my own well-being? Why does anyone?

Wait. I think I’ve found the right question. Whoa. The writing process is killer sometimes…this just got fun. Okay. Sorry.

Why does anyone get apathetic? Hm. Answering that is going to be hard. I guess we get busy, caught up in other things. Or we mix up our priorities and do things that don’t matter as much in the long run (but I can’t think of one right now…laundry, maybe? But living in a messy space isn’t good for your brain…now I’m lost again). Perhaps we care more about feeling relaxed, comfortable, that we let the important stuff slide. Which is a nice way of saying we get lazy.

Okay. This last one is probably me. Supposedly the solution to this is finding something that truly motivates you and hold onto it. Any suggestions?!