I had secrets as a child that lived in me all the way until adulthood. No, not the ones around addiction, and molestation, or even the ones about me pulling out all my eyelashes and eyebrows because I felt an “itch” for three years. No, these also weren’t my young adult secrets like when I ended up in the back of a cop car…over and over, broke into a young couples home or stole someone’s Chihuahua from a house party in West Hollywood. Those are no longer secrets.
When I was a kid, I had secrets that didn’t make sense. There was an obsession with making the world better or offing myself. I was 8-years-old and I decided the world needed an upgrade and me being so powerless I struggled against suicidal thoughts of helplessness. I wanted to die because I felt ineffective. I had no role.
Even now I wonder what my role is, but more importantly, I wonder what the questions are. My “doing” will change. I will work as a counselor then as a writer. I will go on TV and make YouTube videos, then I will be single and desperate. I will be sober in society and yet through all of it, I am asking–how can I be better? What are the questions? My secrets are unearthed in my questions. I want to change the world, so what I am uniquely forged to do? What experiences have I waded through that are useful in a refined combination? Can overcoming my addiction and my experience in countless fields of work be an asset? Can my voracious reading of self-help books and activism be combined usefully?