Get Real

It’s gonna be one of those “Get Real” days.

Hell, for me, it’s been one of those “Get Real” lives.  I tell people my experience, my understanding, my self knowledge, people tell me to “Get Real.”

Of course, what they mean by getting real is accepting the status quo, the way the world works, the normative trends, all that stuff.    Because they care, they feel the need to have me wake up and smell the coffee, to “get it.”

They mean I need to get it through my thick, stupid, skull that I have to go along to get along, that I have to play the game to get what I need.  “You hate your job?  There’s a support group for that.  It’s called ‘Everyone’ and they meet at the bar,” as they said on the Drew Carey show.

They mean I need to just toughen up and put on my big girl panties and take it like a man because there ain’t no freakin’ wizard.

They mean that I need to honor sickness, to get serious and stop playing around, to do what is required.

They mean that I need to be who people expect me to be, that I need to do what people expect me to do, even if just around them.  Of course, I can think whatever I want, even write whatever I want, just as long as it stays hidden around the people who need to categorize me by shibboleth.

They mean I need to be a grown-up, and that means letting go of romantic notions, separating myself from anything that impairs me.  It’s OK, ’cause it’s easy now; we have drugs for that.  Just keep taking them until you find the right cocktail and life changes.

They mean I need to get past old hurts, button them up and get with the program of normativity.  After all, even stupid people can be normative; how hard can it be for a smart person like me, unless I’m really stupid?  After all, it’s my corner I painted myself into, my job to get myself out.

The way is simple: we give compassion to people who show responsibility, but demand responsibility from people who ask for compassion.  Whiners need to get on the ball, show us that you can do what is expected, get it together, take charge of your life.

After all, people have to get real, so why not help others by demanding that they get real, do the work everyone in this society has the obligation to do?   Why shouldn’t society demand that people get damn real, for their own damn good?

Tell me, that my only choice is to get real or get gone.   That won’t be anything different than I have heard since I was in the second grade.   It will be a choice I am intimately familar with, one I have lived with everyday.

My time on earth is getting short, and that means many things.   I don’t have time for a normal career to insure my failing days.   I don’t have youthful health, youthful enthusiasm, youthful hope.  I do have people who eye me as not worth the investment.   In other words, I have to be committed to creating my own reality, even if that means I need to get what I need by being in the reality of others.

I know that people who try to get me to snap out of it and get real are doing it out of compassion & love, I do.

But I also know they just leave me more scarred, not more empowered.

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