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An important part of my story
The world feels a bit surreal today. It was a day that I was close to giving up my dream of starting my business, Recreating Lives and Community, and instead I found healing from a deep childhood wound.
I reconnected with a young man from Zambia. I met Maungo Jr on Facebook. I was intrigued by his playful photos he took . I later found out his goal was to be photographer. The other day we talked after a long absence. He had lost both parents in an auto accident and needed time to get himself together. When we finally connected again, we talked about his work doing videography and documentaries. He was looking for me to help get more “Likes” on his YouTube videos.
I said I didn’t think I could help as his video work was geared toward people in his country. Seeing he was struggling to get paid for his work, I told him that he deserved to work on the projects that he wanted to work on, and he deserved to get paid. Then it came to me that I needed a videographer to help me tell my story of Recreating Lives and Community. He was excited about the idea, and it lifted me up that he actually cared and wanted to support my dream. The next day he was meeting someone for work. I didn’t hear from him all day and thought that he got a job and couldn’t help me. After being so hopeful about having someone to help me, I felt abandoned. I was very close to giving up my dream. But I shook it off and said to myself, “No, I won’t let this stop me. No matter what, I will move forward.” Shortly after I made this decision, he responded in an email that he was sorry he didn’t message me, but he didn’t have internet connection.
Today I feel more energy and confidence in my usually depressed self. I felt more alive than I had since I was 6 or 7 years old. At that time I lost my idol and mentor, my Dad. I looked up to him as an artist, family man, small business owner, and someone who followed his own heart. But my heart sank the day a policeman came to pick him up and bring him to what he called the “nut house.” This was the beginning of the end of my dad as I knew and loved him. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia. After that, the illness and psychotropic meds like rhorizen kept him from being himself.
For the next 12 years, my mom took his sickness out on me. I was the one family member most like my dad. She was scared I would get sick like he did, so she tried to keep me from ever being like him in any way. She trampled on my self-esteem by knocking everything I did and dismissing the traits I shared with my dad. Though she loved him for his creativity, intuition, and entrepreneurial spirit, she couldn’t deal with his illness and the possibility that I would have it, too. As I felt the joy of knowing that my friend from Zambia believed in me and my dream and would help me, I reflected on those 12 years after my dad left. I wasn’t allowed to be who I was because of the character traits that made me too much like him, and that means I never really had a chance to grow into the man I wanted to be. But for some miraculous reason, today was the day that I realized I was becoming that man. I was on the path to being myself. It wasn’t until the end of the day when I noticed the date.
May 20. My Mother’s birthday
The world feels a bit surreal today. It was a day that I was close to giving up my dream of starting my business, Recreating Lives and Community, and instead I found healing from a deep childhood wound.
I reconnected with a young man from Zambia. I met Maungo Jr on Facebook. I was intrigued by his playful photos he took . I later found out his goal was to be photographer. The other day we talked after a long absence. He had lost both parents in an auto accident and needed time to get himself together. When we finally connected again, we talked about his work doing videography and documentaries. He was looking for me to help get more “Likes” on his YouTube videos.
I said I didn’t think I could help as his video work was geared toward people in his country. Seeing he was struggling to get paid for his work, I told him that he deserved to work on the projects that he wanted to work on, and he deserved to get paid. Then it came to me that I needed a videographer to help me tell my story of Recreating Lives and Community. He was excited about the idea, and it lifted me up that he actually cared and wanted to support my dream. The next day he was meeting someone for work. I didn’t hear from him all day and thought that he got a job and couldn’t help me. After being so hopeful about having someone to help me, I felt abandoned. I was very close to giving up my dream. But I shook it off and said to myself, “No, I won’t let this stop me. No matter what, I will move forward.” Shortly after I made this decision, he responded in an email that he was sorry he didn’t message me, but he didn’t have internet connection.
Today I feel more energy and confidence in my usually depressed self. I felt more alive than I had since I was 6 or 7 years old. At that time I lost my idol and mentor, my Dad. I looked up to him as an artist, family man, small business owner, and someone who followed his own heart. But my heart sank the day a policeman came to pick him up and bring him to what he called the “nut house.” This was the beginning of the end of my dad as I knew and loved him. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia. After that, the illness and psychotropic meds like rhorizen kept him from being himself.
For the next 12 years, my mom took his sickness out on me. I was the one family member most like my dad. She was scared I would get sick like he did, so she tried to keep me from ever being like him in any way. She trampled on my self-esteem by knocking everything I did and dismissing the traits I shared with my dad. Though she loved him for his creativity, intuition, and entrepreneurial spirit, she couldn’t deal with his illness and the possibility that I would have it, too. As I felt the joy of knowing that my friend from Zambia believed in me and my dream and would help me, I reflected on those 12 years after my dad left. I wasn’t allowed to be who I was because of the character traits that made me too much like him, and that means I never really had a chance to grow into the man I wanted to be. But for some miraculous reason, today was the day that I realized I was becoming that man. I was on the path to being myself. It wasn’t until the end of the day when I noticed the date.
May 20. My Mother’s birthday