Lessons from my Life-Philosophy of Empathy. My Repeated Mistake.
First, to start with the poem that started this line of thought:
My Repeated Mistake. Mistaken No More.
Not to make, This single mistake no longer. To realise the truth.
To take back all given.
To take back, To let it all rot by itself. To let it fester.
I will not bow down. To rise up. To let the rage fill, The revolution from persecution. Persecution of kindness given.
All to claim back. To only help the kind. To let the criminals rot.
To make the change, Accept that shift. To discard lies held onto for so long. To rewrite “me” from the ground up.
To let this realisation burn through my veins. To succumb to the demon’s games. The tide humanity walks. Who was I to think I could fight it. As each blow for blow. Pushes you from the path you always tried to hold. Now it slips. Only to let go.
To see the patterns, Not the fake apologies. Given en masse, Worthless as their intention to keep.
Time to realise, I cannot play the game, Of kindness in a world so cold. The cold drowns the lone person.
Only to follow that damned river anyway.
Why should I get scars for the crimes of others? Life will crush them harder. To show them true pain. The law of karma shall reap. The reaper at the door with his scythe.
They will see the reaper, Then they’ll see, they’ll know, What they did to me.
The criminal, Never recognising their crime, Their beloved handiwork. Shifting blame, So they can sleep peacefully. No more.
It’s time to embrace the demons. And play them at their own game.
For the photo to go with this poem:
Quite cathartic, writing this, realisation of a lesson I need to learn. Also the photo, currently editing. I can't sleep anyway and it's cathartic so I'll continue.
I remember something my psychology teacher said back in Year 10 (he worked in a prison before) he said that "some people can't be saved, some aren't worth saving".
I remember clearly where I was and where I was sat in class. I remember the visceral reaction I had, remembered and changed my way of thinking, I disagreed; everyone was worth empathy, care, especially those in the darkest places. So my whole life, my academic work, my art, poetry, photography, my own personal life philosophy and life conduct has all been in effort or this. To fight this idea. Even my academic work focussing on social protection and welfare for the downtrodden in society.
This has brought me friends, lost me friends, and worst... brought demons to my door seeking to corrupt and I've always been willing to help, to be there for them. Especially when there was no one else. Maybe there was no one else for a reason. Maybe I was a fool. Even as I write, with clarity and conviction my mind still fights from this thought pattern. I've realised, maybe he was right. There are some people not worth helping. The worst demons in my life, have always come under the guise of people just needing someone to be there for them. This has left me scarred inside and out, panic attacks at the sight of them, my own internal strife and a lot worse. But always what has kept me going was this philosophy of empathy and care.
I guess the lesson I've never wanted to learn, the lesson I've fought every step of the way; that every person is worth care, empathy and someone there for them. That is indeed a fool's errand. It's a lie. Some, but not many, are too far gone that they take for themselves and rip apart all that was in its place. A lesson my mind's fighting right now. But, as it says in my poem (taken from an IG quote) "recognise the pattern, not the apologies". Now I cannot ignore any longer the pattern. So, reluctantly, I guess it's a time for change.
Thanks to a friend who messaged me, trying to convince me as countless have before, that some people aren't worth helping, cannot be helped because they only take and rip apart.
I have to finally admit I've failed at my life goal, my mission, trying to be there for everyone and to always show care, compassion, kindness, empathy to all, especially those in the deepest darkness. Maybe it was doomed to fail from the start. I'd like to think it wasn't. But anyhow, I've failed. Maybe failed, to do an impossible task. I can take solace with a single fact. That I did all I can, gave everything and all, for what I believed in,
Reminds me of my favourite poem, Nikita Gill's 'Be That Kind Of Person'.
In the poem they say "Be that kind of person who is brave enough to stand alone in a crowd for what is right." and "Be that person because we need more people like that in the world. Be that person because people like that are rarer than the rarest diamonds and gold." I can finally say. I know why they are so rare. The world corrupts or kills all those who try. It's a poem that means a lot to me, or meant a lot? My mind still fights this acceptance.
But credit to Nikita Gill, here's the poem, one that had summed me up totally and what I always had tried to do. Or is it try to do? I haven't decided. No wonder I've been up for 6 hours trying to sleep but not being able to.
I've known that this year would be one focussing on my mental health, while everything can be somewhat consistent, not fighting to study hard at Uni and putting this on the back-burner as written in my This Is Me. This Is My Story blogpost, I was working hard on Uni to make ready for a future I didn't know I wanted, but in case I would I wanted to make ready. So far this year, I've sought help I vowed back in secondary school never to do, I've lost my closest friends, and confronted many past demons. And now, having to confront, everything I have ever worked for in life, my philosophy. In essence my life itself. As the latter two I cannot even reconcile a difference. Questioning my philosophy I have done for a very long time, but always held on, but now I really don't think I can ignore the patterns of my own 'usefulness' to others. My own abuse by others.
Recently, with money problems and all sorts. Focussing on my art. Writing this, my photo I made and my poem it's convinced me more to continue with my art of this journey, to disregard anyone who has a problem seeing the darkness. For, what I know about people with Autism, I think many would class the 'world's being' as a genocide on us. In the words of Charls Davis I person I follow with Autism, "It's tough living in a world that wasn't built with Autism in mind". I am in the middle of setting up a Patreon to continue my art, continue poetry, I have never really wanted to make this art a 'career' but now more than ever I think the world needs more people to speak out against what makes it tick. Rather than to sit by the wayside. I intend when everything's up and running and I'm stable and able (still working it all out) to donate a percentage of everything to the National Autistic Society.
I would highly recommend anyone to read their story. For me their story resonates more with women's struggles with Autism as I myself have always been better at hiding, 'masking' it, a more common trait among women on the spectrum and hence leading to there massive under diagnosis relative to men's. Also hence my diagnosis around the age of 22 (when I knew from the age of 7 but because it was 'uncurable' I pushed it out of my mind).
Some statistics (will attach the video, again I highly recommend) about Autism. Have included the videos and more in my This Is Me. This Is My Story. All this found from videos, other articles, and all sorts. This is here in case anyone's not seen the videos in my other blogpost. The statistics get dark, and I fully-well know why.
Invisible Diversity: A Story Of Undiagnosed Autism | Carrie Beckwith-Fellows |