I didn’t know what I wanted, so I did everything that everybody else was doing.
I played bass for a band and couldn’t get through a practice or a gig without first drowning myself in alcohol and smoking a joint. I was afraid if i wasn’t high enough or drunk enough, my band mates would see through me and kick me out.
I learned to Ollie and tried to kick flip on a 27-year old body, without ever being athletic in my life cause my ex was into skateboarding. I bumped my head and scraped my knees bloody and still I went, skating into the night and going down hills without a helmet. On August 7, 2008, I skated drunk and fell. My femur, the strongest bone in the human body, snapped in two. The doctors thought I had been in a motorcycle accident. They had to put me back together with a piece of metal and pins.
Barely recovered, on medication and with a cane, I hit clubs, drank alcohol and partied. In October, only two months after my accident, I joined a nationwide 9-band tour. One night in Baguio, I got so drunk that I broke my cane because I used it as a bat and hit random objects into the air. On another night, I passed out on the cold floor of a gym with only the band shirts being sold on the merchandise table for company.
I surfed during storms and braved 8 foot high waves. One particularly stormy day in Zambales, I got bulldozed by a crashing wave. I was dragged around like a rag doll and was pummeled into the shore. When I came to the surface, I found my surfboard broken in half.
I pierced my bellybutton and nose while drunk, got dreadlocks while high and got tattooed while passed out. I dyed my hair blonde, pink, red and orange, everything and anything at all except my natural color, please.
I did everything and anything at all to keep myself occupied.
Everything and anything at all, to keep from being still and finding out.
Everything and anything to keep from looking in the mirror and acknowledging the truth.
That in my quest to fit into society, the more ill-fit I became for it.
The more I tried to be accepted, the more I was pushed out.
And that in the process, I had gotten so far away from myself and each time I checked, I no longer recognized myself.
I no longer knew who I was. No longer even remembered.
I had no idea where I was going and where I belonged.
And despite the tough chick exterior I so smugly put on…
I was really just scared.
“If my life is fruitless, it doesn’t matter who praises me, and if my life is fruitful, it doesn’t matter who criticizes me.” – John Bunyan
“He will sit like a refiner of silver.” Mal 3:3 NLT