BLOG: Phone Call

Received a phone call: Take down the blog posts or else. 

Does this sound reasonable?

Well, I’m a massive proponent of free speech, psychology, and self-discovery. Removing the blog posts would severely undermine my values as a writer, pseudo-self proclaimed analyst, and explorer of truth. It would severely undermine my message entirely.

I’ve lived a fucking tumultuous life, and if you’ve lived something similar, a life of fury, hardships, trauma, insanity, incessant obstacles, you’re looking for the silver lining — the sense in the chaos. You’re looking for purpose.

Would prefer to rip the collective band aid off this whole predicament, get to the source of my discoveries, start proving psychosexual development, the narcissism pandemic, inter dimensional consciousness, and spirituality. The unconscious mind. Start having discussions regarding human nature, reality, and the purpose of life. And it starts by telling the truth. 

An exercise all writers need to practice.

I have a story to tell, and that story involves other people. Unfortunately the majority of these characters dug themselves into a deep trench in my personal life, and i’m not sure how to help them without digging a little deeper myself. 

So I grabbed the shovel and headed for the mud.

I’m sorry. Sorry, neither of my parents had any goddamn sense to heal the previous traumas in their lives. Sorry, I’ve inherited their sins. Sorry somebody’s had enough. Time to grab the shovel. Start digging. I’ll meet you at the bottom.

I can’t tell this story without the other characters, my family. I can’t tell this story without being completely honest, completely true. I have nothing to hide, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t take my pain lightly, and I certainly don’t take the pain of others lightly either. I’m sorry if the blogs hurt anybody, I’m sorry if they catch you by surprise, but again this is the cost of being a writer. 

I tried writing fiction. 

This is what came out.

I’m being told, “this never even happened” or “I don’t remember this”, so all the more reason to keep the blogs uploaded on the website. All the more reason to keep my version of the truth. Because those who forget history are doomed to repeat.

II.

This is the worst part.

The tracing back trauma’s, the unveiling of the past. The open wound. The pain. I’m fairly open about my trauma, hence the blog posts, hence the artwork, hence my entire personality lately. It’s become my inspiration and my life’s work. After a few years the dust settles and the trauma that once dominated your life becomes a crude joke in conversation. I’m proud of this work. Damn Proud. 

My sister’s been a patient of the same therapist for twice the time I’ve spent with Dr. Tereo. That’s twice the time to build a relationship. Twice the time to talk about the happenings. Nearly a decade of work. I’m sorry if I felt confident to tell my story, and I’m sorry if I feel an obligation as a writer. A duty. Plus, the ability to help other families, mainly other children is too important for me.

I’m not doing this in vanity. I’m not doing this for revenge. I’m not doing this to be an asshole. I’m doing this to draw attention to specific subject matters; subject matters I find may help ease the suffering of others, help the world, ya know, good shit.

I make claims about being psychic, about psychosexuality, modern psychoanalysis, about narcissism. How can I relay this information without telling my story?
I’d be a fraud without telling the truth.

Removing the blog, removing my opinion, my free speech would only further empower — no enable, the narcissism in my family.

I’m sorry, but we’ll just keep digging.