Life, Parenting And Relationships

Mean Streets

To all you youthful Rebels out there who think that your life is a living Hell living under what you might consider to be a Dictatorship. Slow down and look at the big Picture, a lot of us are on this Earth strictly by accident. Our Parents never meant to have us, but out of an act of nature you were conceived, and there was no going back. Many of our Parents were just Kids themselves when they crawled into the Sack and got knocked up. Some without a conscience abort their mistakes, consider yourself lucky as I do. I myself was a late Pregnancy, my Mother got Pregnant at thirty seven her entire Family advised her to have an Abortion because the Pregnancy was dangerous at that age with poor Health.

Thank God she didn’t listen to them, otherwise I would not be here to tell you that no matter how bad it is where you are it’s worse out there on the Streets. From fourteen to eighteen I was a product of the Streets, I undermined all my Mother’s Christian Teachings, hard work and Dedication to raise an Upstanding World Class Citizen. At fourteen years old I was introduced to the finest Marijuana grown around the World by a twelve year old Boy who went to Catholic School. His older Sister was an Airline Steward, she was the Mule that brought the finest Weed grown from around the World to the Bronx. Her older brother was the Dealer, their Parents were the Pillars of the Community, one a Public Servant the other a CPA.

I was a Rebel without a Cause or a clue doing stupid Shit just to prove that I was a Man being Raised by a Single Mom, and to let her know that I wasn’t going to listen to a Woman. That Woman was Godsend in delivering me from the Streets. At fourteen while doing my Laundry she found an Ounce of Marijuana in my Pocket, flushed it in the Toilet, not a word was said of her find.

Several Weeks later she sat me down and Counseled me of the dangers of smoking Weed and what it could lead to as a Gateway Drug, instead of kicking me out of her House into the Streets where I belonged with my Bitch Ass Attitude about being Raised by a Single Mom. She knew how the Streets were, seen as how her Parents kicked her out of their Home when she got Pregnant with her first Kid.

For four more years she put up with my Crap. Her secret Weapon was her strong belief in God, that we were all put on this Earth to go through Trials and Tribulations, the purpose, to make us strong and Triumphant. Also she used the Technique of Love and Logic Parenting style on me, allowing me to screw up as much as I wanted to, then coming full Circle with my actions and face the consequences, while counselling me about Crime and Punishment.

Mass Murderer

After four years of living the Street life of Drinking Colt 45, Old English and smoking the finest Weed from around the World, while steadily being prodded to sell it.

I squeaked out of High School barely Literate from the beating I put on my Brain from smoking all that High quality Weed for four years, when I should have been prepping myself for College to become a Literary Scholar, instead of Partying my Life away. In the end Mom was Triumphant, at eighteen I realized that if I continued hanging in the Streets it would only be a matter of time before I was selling Kilos, and doing time with Brothers who wanted to make me their Woman. At that point in my young life I had seen the Light and since steadily walked the straight and narrow. One of my Cousins took an Offer that I refused, made himself Wealthy, caught five Bullets and did fifteen years in Prison, forget about the money, those were my five Bullets and my fifteen years. What good would it have done me to become wealthy while losing my Soul to the Streets. What I am trying to tell you young Rebels, is the Streets is no place to be Somebody. It is better to stay in what you may consider an oppressive situation, make it your Job, your Vendetta, your Driving Force to become Educated and set yourself Free.

P.S. this is my Tribute to Tom Petty’s Soul Asylum.

Lyrics

Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn’t even sleep
So many secrets I couldn’t keep
Promised myself I wouldn’t weep
One more promise I couldn’t keep

It seems no one can help me now
I’m in too deep
There’s no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there

Can you help me remember how to smile?
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded?
Life’s mystery seems so faded.

Health, Life, Parenting And Relationships

A Junkie’s Poem

Substance abuse

A Junkie’s Poem

As the saying goes Fool me once is never enough, over the years observing the Monkey on my back. makes me wonder how many times must I be fooled  to get the message, this isn’t Kansas and haven’t  been  for a long time. The Monkey picks you up and lay you down over and again but he is still your friend.

Mother always told us be careful who you choose for friends because if you walk in filth you will stink. Can’t you tell everyone around is backing away, they treat you like a vagrant and all, you are an outcast from Society, your family and friends, but you still hang tight with your monkey for a friend. You are in and out of the System, it’s now your permanent address even though your dual Residence is the Streets.

I look in the Mirror I see a face but who is it, certainly not the me of fifteen, a smart ambitious kid who wanted to be a pharmacist not the Junkie at the other end of a needle or a stem, not the Geek with a mouthful of Oxi, it’s early afternoon and I’ve lost count. I can hear Billy echoing Eyes without a face, while Janis wails about her Ball and Chain. Who is that man in the mirror, I look further and deeper  and all I see is a skull, the skull has been my moniker science hearing of Casey Jones.

Grateful Dead/forever

Not realizing how wasted I am and will not find my way home until I ask for help. Sitting in a Room of despair striking the fire one more time

trying to get back to the elusive initial high that is never going to come, because that is just the way Crack is, she is a Temptress that will never satisfy the crave. Deep down the shell of the old me the kid that was good with Math that yearns for his old self, I am lost in a fog of Meth vapors and can’t count the step backwards to where it all began.

A Fool is too proud to ask for help while a wise Man knows to come in from the Rain. My life is one big storm taking me further from  reality, while the monkey is taking me to the Cliff.

When I am broke I feel it’s wrath shaking me to find a fix even though what I do for my friend I wouldn’t do for myself. When I hear the Steel Doors slam I now realize that I am lost because here at Home there is no friend only rejection from my Monkey who I left in a cold dark Alley.

P.S. The Lord help those that help themselves

Life, Parenting And Relationships

A Train called Me

A Train called Me

I couldn’t have been more than fifteen when I complained to Mom about my little Gig stocking shelves at the Supermarket. Her Philosophical answer, to get by in this World you have to kiss Ass until you can kick em. Moral, as long as you are dependent you suck it up until you can do better. Man were those words ever riveted in my Brain. It was those words that kept me grounded and in check through my horrendous teenage, thinking at fourteen that I was my own Man. My attitude was rambunctious believing that I could do whatever I wanted to do. Still not able to feed and clothe myself or put a Roof over my head. Mother was not a difficult person, but her rules were to be obeyed.  Juvenile Delinquents are people who outright refuses to do what they are told thinking that they can skirt the Law. When my Kids were twelve and thirteen there was a Sign in my Basement Den, “now that you know everything, you can move out and pay your own way”. Now a Sign like that would have me kissing Ass.

At fifteen I knew the importance of a Job and not to grow up Illiterate. But I still couldn’t afford to move out. So that’s why  when she found my Ounce of Marijuana I shut my mouth and acted Repentantly. Even though It wasn’t long after that at sixteen, going to a Party she told me to be in the House by 12. While she was talking I could hear the little Demons in my Head “she is not talking to me” I’m coming home when I please, that is Delinquent thinking. Long after twelve I came stumbling home almost 6am Shit faced and all, what was I thinking that I could Rule a strong Willed Woman. She lay- waited me behind the Door with a Broom Handle that dropped me to my knees. Another JD would have gotten up and be conforontational, I took it like a man. Being a single Woman raising a child like me she had no choice but to be tough, otherwise I would have end up ruling her.

Once again more Ass to kiss, I disobeyed her wishes while I was living under her Roof,  they were to be respected, or move out, again I choose to stay and try to co-exist while not paying Rent. This is where a lot of kids develop misconceptions, thinking that their parents are obligated to put up with whatever crap they dish out on their parents. I knew that my Mother was not obligated, she had remedies like putting me in a Juvenile Detention Center. Instead she chose to work with me. When you get to the point where your parents can’t tell you anything, it’s time to move out.  My Mother and I got along famously  both strong Willed and neither afraid to match Wits. She would Bond with me to control my mindset of being bad, drowned me with Honey so she  could hardcore Reason with me. Then she would flip like a light switch with the ultimatums. She would look me in the eyes and told me at seventeen, if you leave this House, Don’t come back,  I was going to a meeting of the Radical Extremist Panther Party. How she knew what I was up to her name must have been Holmes. A good Parent have to be a Detective to know what their kids are up to.That’s a Great Mother. She would crawl in a Skark’s Belly to save her son, on the other hand she would put me on the Streets to see the Evil of my ways. Tough Love is using your wisdom and experience to break someone.

I was on a Runaway Train and she made it her Job to stop the Train called me. By eighteen Mother didn’t have to worry about who I was hanging with, where I was four A.m. in the morning or who the person I was becoming. Her Job was done, her values were a part of me, being responsible for my actions was my nemesis and doing Prison time was my Phobia. On the Road called Life people make wrong turns everyday, Kids aren’t exempt from losing their way. One of the hardest part of Parenting is not giving up on a child who have gone astray. At fourteen I didn’t need any help being a Deviant yet my best friend was a twelve year old Boy who attended Catholic School. a Deviant in his own rights.

He had access to more Marijuana than a Farmer, his older brother sold it, after School we would return to the Basketball Court in the School Yard and smoke the most potent strains till it was dark, and so were we. Gravitating to Street life have nothing to do with who the Parents are, his Parents were upward mobile Professionals and my Mother was a hard working Christian Woman. Without God’s hands working through my Mother the Streets would have won my Soul, chewed me up and spat me out in a New York State Prison. Today I work as a Contract Employee in a County Justice System, with a Criminal Record I could not have gotten the Job.

This is where my Life comes full Circle seeing all the Babies coming to Court, some barely twelve, some being Remanded and not going back Home. In an earlier Blog I stated that Teenagers know everything except projecting five years down the Road. Neil Young puts it Best ” old Man take a look at my Life I’m a lot like you were. Tom Petty’s Soul Asylum should be a Beacon for Wayward Teens like I was. I think about Pac all the time and wonder how his Life would have turned out with a Mother like mine.

Parenting And Relationships

I Would Rather do it Myself


Oftentimes we impede our Kids growth. We put ourselves exactly where we shouldn’t be: in the middle of their problems. Parents who take on their Kid’s problems do them a great disservice. They rob their children of the chance to grow in responsibility, and they actually foster further irresponsible behavior. The greatest gift we can give our children is the knowledge that with God’s help, they can always look first to themselves for the answers to their problems. Kids who develop an attitude that says, I can probably find my own solutions, become survivors. They have an edge in Learning, relating to others, and making their way in the World. That’s because the best solution to any problem lies within the person who owns the problem. When we solve problems for our Kids-the ones they could handle on their own-they’re never quite satisfied. Our solution is never quite good enough.

 

 

When we tell our Kids what to do, deep down they say,I can think for myself, so oftentimes they do the exact opposite of what we want them to do. Our anger doesn’t help either. Certainly, it galls us to no end when our kids mess up something in their own Lives. When they lose school-books or bring home failing grades, it’s only natural for us to explode in a living, breathing Fourth of July display. But anytime we explode at Children for what they do to themselves, we only make the problem worse. We give Kids the the message that the actual, logical consequence of messing up is making adults mad. The children gets swept away in the power of their anger rather than learn a lesson from the consequences of their mistakes. When we intrude into our children’s Problems  with anger or rescue mission, we make their problems our problems. Children don’t worry about problems they know are the concern of their Parents. This can be explained partly by the “no sense in both of us worrying about it” syndrome. Kids who deal directly with their own problems are moved to solve them. They know that if they don’t, nobody will. Not their parents not their teachers- nobody. On a subconscious level, they feel much better about themselves when they handle their own problems.

Excepts from Parenting with Love and Logic

 

 

 

Related Articles

Sean Grover L.C.S.W.

When Kids Call the Shots

The Negative Voices in Your Teenager’s Head

7 ways to quiet them

Posted Jan 20, 2018

This is what a teen might say to you about his or her self-talk:

   “I’m mad. I don’t know why. Sometimes I wake up mad; other days it creeps up on me. I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel good. I wish I wasn’t so mad, but I am. I can’t help it.

   “Every day is a prison, trapped inside this changing body, repeating the same day over and over. My whole life is made up of things I have to do, not things I want to do. Tests, quizzes, reading assignments, papers, group projects — I spend the entire day with people I am forced to be with: teenagers who feel just as messed up as me.

   “Sometimes my feelings get hurt at school — by teachers, deans, counselors, but mostly by other students. I don’t tell you this, because I’m ashamed to feel hurt. I don’t want you to know how hurt I feel all the time.

   “My whole life has become ‘I don’t want to…’ I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to go to bed. I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to…I don’t want to…I don’t want to.

   “I can’t think of a single thing that I want to do — except sleep. It’s the only time I’m not stressing, the only time I’m not worried, the only time I’m not upset.

   “Sometimes I hide in my room and binge watch Netflix, YouTube, or mindless videos over and over, because I can’t stand to be with my own thoughts. I’m distracting myself from me. Does that sound crazy?

   “And, yes, I know that my room is a mess. I like it that way: It looks how I feel inside. And please don’t ask me what’s wrong, because I don’t know. I don’t know where these feelings came from.

   “I know that you’re mad at me. I can’t blame you. I stopped talking to you. Sometimes I say such mean things to you, horrible things. I blame you, curse at you, push you away. Sometimes I break things, because I feel broken inside.

   “It wasn’t always this way. When I look at old photos of me in elementary school, I see a little kid who was so happy all the time. A little kid who loved to dance and sing, who loved to be silly, who didn’t care what people thought.

   “I feel like that little kid is dead.

   “I’m going to tell you something now that’s hard to say. Please listen, because I really mean it: Don’t give up on me. Don’t hate me back. I need you to be stronger than me. I need you to be my parent, even though I say I don’t want one. I need you to be more patient than I can be, more understanding, more accepting. Even when I am yelling at you, even when I tell you that I hate you, I still need you to love me.

   “If I could tell you how to help me, this is what I would say:

1. Give me space.

Don’t come in my room, corner me, or make demands. I don’t have any answers. When you push me or yell at me, I feel worse. I need to be alone. I need space.

2. Don’t yell at me.

The noise in my head is so loud sometimes that I can barely hear my own thoughts. I can’t stand it. When you yell, I feel worse about myself. I feel unloved. I feel like I am your biggest disappointment.

3. Take my electronics away.

I can’t put my phone down; I try, but I just can’t. I know it’s devouring all my time, but I can’t help myself; I can’t stop checking it. I need your help. I need you to set limits on technology. Please. I will fight you, but it’s what I need. Don’t try to reason with me: Just do it.

4. Bring me someplace quiet.

I say I don’t want anything to do with you. But if you could bring me somewhere quiet, somewhere we could walk together and not argue, somewhere I can feel the sun and listen to the wind in the trees, somewhere I can breathe and forget about everything that’s bothering me, I think I would like that. Even if we don’t speak, I will feel comforted.

5. Stop spoiling me.

Stop giving me everything I want. The more you give me, the more I resent you. I want to earn things. It helps me feel grown up. I want to learn how to save money, spend money, share money. And I’m never going to learn that if you keep giving it to me. I hate being dependent on you; please help me become independent.

6. Find me someone to talk to.

I need someone to look up to who isn’t you. I need an adult to admire, someone I want to be like, a person who believes in me, who pushes me, and who understands me. A mentor, a counselor, a therapist…anyone who can give me hope when I have too little for myself.

7. Tell me that you love me.

I pretend not to care. But I really need to hear you say the words, ‘I love you.’ Because right now, I don’t love me. Even though I’m making your life hell, I still need to feel loved. Especially by you.

   “I guess that’s it. I know that being a parent is really hard. Sometimes you probably wonder why you did it. But I’ll get better. I promise. I’ll get older and we’ll enjoy each other again. Until then, understand that I appreciate you.

   “I may not say it often, but still I love you.”

More on the Subject

At what point in life that we all come to the Crossroads that we know everything and that we are no longer reliant on your parents knowledge, which have brought you to the point you are now, ready to take on Life on your own. That happened to me when I was fourteen, whatever that was said to me in my little mind, didn’t relate to me because I was going to do exactly as I wanted to do. A Rebel without a cause, on a one-way track on a runaway Train heading to who knows where, many Teenagers like me end up on the Streets, in jail or Dead. My message, the power is in you,  coming to your Crossroads and making your own choices, preferably the right ones. Ask yourself 20 questions, one of which is this me in 5 years. Teenagers know everything except to project  years down the Road. Five years is a lifetime locked up.

My Mother wouldn’t hear of that, if necessary she would do my prison time. Only a Fool who don’t recognize acts of kindnessnes. That was enough to change my way of thinking and began taking on responsibility. Once again I beg you don’t do stupid things like I did, like smoking Weed at fourteen. The rest of your Life is in your hands.

 



P.s. momma may have Papa may have but God bless the Child that’s got it all together for himself.