Lose Yourself

For some reason I feel the need to indulge the reader in the details of my past. Everyone has a Sob Story, and everyone feels unloved and underappreciated more often than not. There's little to nothing unique about that. And truth be told, I've been luckier than most denizens of this Earth.

But for a Westerner, I feel as though my life has been remarkably unlucky by my countrymen's standards. I would like to think that thus far I have turned out reasonably well though, which is why I feel the need to share my Survival Story, for the benefit of those now suffering and in despair. So without further ado: the brief but suspenseful story of me.

I was born in the 1980s in the Upper Midwest. I and my siblings were multiracial, which in that day meant we were essentially freaks from birth. And as poster children for what was at the time considered experimental, our family really felt the burdens of societal responsibility. We knew a lot of people were watching us and taking notes, which added to a sense of continuous apprehension.

Both of my parents were doctors, and extremely good ones at that. They invested nearly all of their moral attention and energy in being the best at what they did, which left very little for them to invest in parenting. I have no doubt that if they had allowed themselves to be good parents, they would have been. But it simply wasn't something they felt obligated to be. And in their absence, my siblings and I were left to raise one another.

At a rather young age, my family moved from North of the Mason-Dixon line back down to the Southeastern United States. And the rules there were very different than what my siblings and I had become accustomed to. People there were much less tolerant of my parents' marriage, and even less so of my self-evident right to exist. And they were not the slightest bit shy about letting me know their true feelings.

That was how I spent the rest of my childhood, as well as the beginnings of my adult life. Mornings were spent at school. I found my Jewish classmates to be my brothers and sisters at arms, and befriended most of them over the years. Everyone else though was essentially my mortal enemy, whether they admitted it or not. And they made my life hell.

The children who didn't ignore me found very clever ways to torment me without facing any consequences. Dousing me with itching powder, spitting on me, throwing things at me. You get the picture. One was even bold enough to subject me to a mock lynching, which left bruises on my neck for weeks thereafter.

Home life was the only respite. Call it neglect if you wish, but my family for the most part left me alone, which was what I wanted. My siblings and I were like trophies hanging on the wall, to be boastfully shown to visitors, but otherwise ignored.

At one point in high school I was attacked by a skinhead. That proved the final straw. I applied to a boarding school, was admitted, and left, never to return again. There is never a triumphant return to hell. Those who are fortunate enough to escape it must never so much as glance behind them, lest they be dragged unceremoniously back into its flames.

It is with great happiness that I can say my siblings and I all were rescued from that place of pain. And our adult lives were a great deal more tolerable for us. If that had not been the case, we would not all be here today.

Don't misunderstand me. The rest of my life was still less than ideal. Our family home burned to the ground, leaving us homeless for several years. And at one point I was attacked and nearly killed by a vicious street gang. My family was also plagued by infidelity, which I still carry the shame of to this very day.

But I felt they were all setbacks I could overcome in time. And time is the one thing I have thus far been unequivocally blessed with.

Untold numbers of people are now suffering the world over. A great many of them could not have seen it coming, and have been blindsided by the tragedy of their tribulations.

To them I quote the wisdom of Ecclesiastes: that the race goes not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. All spend some time in the Darkness, and some time in the Light. And all are tempered by their ordeals, and forged into something more powerful than any mortal could ever possibly fathom.

With those parting words, I bid the reader farewell, and wish you the best of luck on your tumultuous journey through life.