Good morning, fellow Maniacs! It’s Tuesday, which means it’s the beginning of a brand new day to try new things! I know that even through the positive perspective that we try to keep, those Tuesday Blues always jump in and make us sway toward the mind-frame of despair. Don’t be weary, but instead, try your best to cherish every minute, every breath of the day. You’re only as positive or as negative as your last breath, so why not try to be positive, right? Easier said than done, as my story below will kind of show. This is a diary entry that I had made last year before I was medically released to teach again after recovering from a severe car accident injury–which in time I’ll write in more detail about.
In hindsight, I realize that every breath was one that I had so wished was my last at the time. I’m so glad that I hung on and have decided to continue living life, navigating my way through with love everyday–whether it be through dance or touching lives with my words of hope, courage and honesty.
Take care of yourselves this week, guys! Chat with you soon!
‘Why Am I Here? The question that plagues the majority of us each and every day as we breathe oxygen in and expel carbon dioxide out: Why am I here? What is my purpose and what power lies within that purpose? Honestly, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on this one. As a fitness instructor, my career started off more successful than I would have ever imagined. I went from teaching one class to 14 classes a week. Between the mixture of land and water classes, my dexterity gave me an advantage. My students, ranging from their late 20’s to late 80’s, loved me and I loved them! I prayed so hard for this and to see my hard work payoff was humbling to say the least. I thought that I had finally found my purpose that just so happened to align up with my career path. Well, that would change in the blink of an eye.
In 2016, I was hit head on in an automobile accident that put me on the shelf for a year and some change. I was the unlucky recipient of a Lis-Franc fracture on my right foot. This injury is always considered very touch-and-go in terms of healing. In my case, I have permanent damage accompanied by arthritis that’ll be the ghost haunting me for the remainder of my life. To go from an active schedule to absolutely no activity at all stifled me more than physically, it mentally took me out. I had contemplated suicide, but with the encouragement of a couple of close friends and a magnificent extended family of students, I persevered. Throughout my recovery, I attended an extensive amount of therapy. I hadn’t had to see my therapist in almost 4 years due to my busy schedule and stable mood. However, when I started to romanticize death as this sweet escape I knew that it was time to make some appointments. Each session was geared towards helping me rebuild something from the dilapidated frame of time that was my past. I was not interested in the idea of beginning again; all I wanted to do was end it. Fathoming the ideas of starting over wore me out to the point that my outgoing personality turned inward, causing me to relish in the comfort of my bed for days on end. So, what galvanized the change? What reinforced my belief in God’s reasoning for things happening? I went through the process of grief full force. I had to get to the phase of acceptance.
Facing the dismal reality that I may not ever teach dance fitness again was a daunting pill of horse shit to swallow, but it had to be done. My therapist could see that I was slowly coming around, whether it be on my own accord or the new anti-depressant that I was prescribed, and the building began. Careers as orthodox as call centers and grunt work made my hard-on for life about as flimsy and withered as a limp balloon. I told my therapist to hand me the Viagra filled with courage because I was going to need assistance in considering those types of jobs. Now, I mean no disrespect to people in those positions; I salute you and respect you 100%. Going from an active environment where the music shook the walls of the dance studio, and the holy-ghost like screams of victory over crushing a workout with a fabulous group of people seemed more appealing than sitting in a chair pushing paper as opposed to pushing my butt back to the beat. So what was it that am meant to be doing? Why am I here? I decided to go back to the source and pray on it. Eventually, the answer came to me from many sources. The answer was all the same. “Cameron, have you thought about writing?” Huh?
Now, they say “Be careful what you wish for, ‘cause you might just get it.” I wasn’t necessarily perplexed by any of these revelations thrusted upon me. I’ve been told that I’m a decent writer, but I haven’t cared to really pay it any attention. I enjoy putting my thoughts down on paper and maybe sometimes sharing said thoughts. I only share to make sure that I’m not crazy for the things that run hundreds of miles-per-hour through my brain. However, much to the chagrin of my doubts, my little literary rants were more than I made them to be. People tell me that what I write slides its way deep down within the space of their humanity, resonating a likeness to me that makes communicating in this way intimate, inspiring and insightful. I decide to no longer take these things said with a grain of salt and put my “gift” to work.
So, why am I here? Why am I deciding to further expound on a venture that had uncertainties that make me want to run and hide in my closet of safety? Because if I don’t, what else do I have? I have nothing to lose, but my foolish pride and maybe some sleep. I’ve decided to take the first step and begin my blogging journey. In this space, I hope to do what I did with my classes: to create an environment where freedom to be, to exist with purpose—whether in search of it or not–is not an option, it is mandatory. Welcome to my world. I’m excited to grow with each and every one of you as I give little rants here and there about myself, the small wonders of life, as well as the disappointments in a way that nurtures and heals the deepest complexities of our human condition.’