Brand New Teeth, Backroads

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Sexual Assault

I’ve never been this depressed and mad in recent memory. Sitting with myself and exploring things I questioned over the years is the most difficult task. Honestly, it has pushed me to the point of questioning if I want to deal with life. Deal with my business. Deal with anything. My day job actually gotten more likable for me. I know thats the easy way out. To just choose the mundane day in, day out job that you don’t have your full heart in. 

I remember earlier this year shortly after Silhouettes Of Scarlet’s show at The Paramount a few of my co-workers that attended made the comment, “oh Chris you was so in-tuned to the details of your show. Why aren’t you like that at work?” It was a disrespectful comment, definitely. Some other co-workers definitely thought their comment was inappropriate. I countered with “well i’m here at my job to do the work, get my money and go home. That’s why I was hired. To perform a task. That show is my baby, so I’m going to give it everything.” My boss didn’t like the comment, my co-worker said, but his take was “Chris don't care about us.” Not the case at all. However imagine the day I stopped caring. Like really stop giving a fuck. What would that look like? What would that feel like? 

Giving up feels so easy, “like fuck it y'all win. I surrender.” The alarm that rings in my mind people don’t ever hear, knows how damaging that becomes to my psyche or confidence. I feel like I don’t know how to talk to anyone about anything anymore. Honesty feels like pushing a boulder up a mountain. It’s hard to get out what’s in my head these days. Even through art. My mother sees it on my face. She thinks its because of the holidays with Dad not being here, which is partly true. This year has stung a bit deeper, with no work to distract me. No ridiculous ass situations to take up my energy and time (well there are things going on, but just trying not to give it the time of day.) 

Again being in this space of questioning myself brought up unwanted feelings, fear, and anxiety. In 2022, getting in the dating world, exploring LA on my own the first time as an adult (the red-lining is really crazy out here) there was nothing to fall back on. No one was coming to save me if I fucked up horribly. Something I noticed is that I wasn’t really hyper-sexual. I was kinda like that my entire life. The homies would talk about sex and I would feel repulsed. I don’t know why. To this day I don’t really understand it. Specifically this year, when I was exploring more and meeting new people, people were talking about sex and things so much more openly. I gotten so awkward about it. In the dating scene, I was awkward to the point I kissed a girl on the forehead to avoid making it seem like I was trying to sexualize her. I freaked out getting flowers. I freaked out over saying the wrong things, overthinking every little thing because I didn’t want to be a fuck up. 

me in 2022

3 years later i developed hyper-sexual behaviors. What the fuck happened? I know good and well I wasn’t like this before. Coming to find out, due to being under so much pressure with grief, to perform, to keep heads a float I developed that due to being sexually assaulted. This is the third time in my life this occurred. When it comes to sitting with it, recognizing and acknowledging it, it takes all the energy away from you. The past few weeks I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to get out of bed. I haven't gone to the gym. The words for poems and songs don’t really come to me in what I truly want to say. Its a messed up situation. My confidence is really shot. All i can think about right now is how mad I am. How upset I am. How I want to burn the world to the fucking ground. The hyper-sexual behavior in the past has put my life in grave danger to the point I could've been murdered.

Nearly a decade ago, the first two times it happened I was in survival mode. My housing situation was fucked. I got fired from my second job and barely had money to eat. The job that kept me was a retail job. A co-worker assaulted me on the job. I told my boss and she thinks it was a good idea to keep us on opposite ends of the store rather than just firing him. Ridiculous. This was 2016.  Monterey County. The other time I had a stalker that was obsessed with me. With my current situation, there’s no running from it really. At bare minimum i don’t have to be in Monterey and those people are no longer there. When im in town, i dont go to those places anymore. LA is a different beast, also being in the rap scene.

How do we have a honest conversation about boundaries as men and participants in a culture that’s hyper masculine? How do I come out and say boldly say “hey this has happened to me?” A couple of my closest friends don’t even believe that the person did it would be capable or say some bullshit " I want to hear the otherside of the story." I didn't know about the history until after the fact. Not comparing the two, however, looking at the Diddy Documentary, supremely triggering. All these people coming forward and nothing to come about it. One of the jurors essentially dismissing the case before it even started due to the fact she’s a fan. Insanity. “You stayed so you must have wanted it?” - internet comments section. The pure frustration. That shit infuriates me to no end. 

A friend recently told me, “when I first met you obviously it didn’t deter me from being your friend, but I thought there’s a lot going on with him.” So now here it is. I been battling with death, sexual assault, grief, changes, isolation, keeping my head on straight for the sake of my career, family and community. I already know no one is coming to save me. I’m not asking for saving. I’m asking for a place to hold my anger with care. I hate to say it, i do believe if old age don’t get me, my lack of releasing anger or high intense emotions is going to kill me.

Don’t mean to sound dramatic, however, knowing how many black men die so young due to stress. I feel healthy and mobile now, but i do know if I don’t get this shit under control it can be a huge hinderance to my career. The guilt of not being around my mother and sister is honestly eating at me too. Moms just went and got a x-ray checkup with the doctor. She’s getting that age talking about retirement for next year. My sister is getting sick more often lately. Getting a little worried. Someone I met over the summer, Mr Doz just passed away a few days ago due to cancer. I met him over the summer at FYI headquarters. He has a family with multiple children. He talked about the need for more black superheroes. I talked about him in older post here.

When I think about Mr Doz's story, I think about the concept of black grief. About once again, my friends that aren't black don't get it. Majority of the people that's around me don't understand what the fuck black grief is and how it cuts deep. Here's Doz, someone I don't know really, just his story and hearing about his death not only made me depressed and sad, but also scared the hell out of me. Someone is growing up the rest of their lives without a father. The joys of the human experience no longer be able to shared with. I shared it a few times, but the thought of getting married, getting into relationships to share all that with my Dad- I can't do that. There's no way for me to do that. That goes back to the guilt of maybe I haven't been the best son, and that I didn't let my Dad in enough. I want to share so much with my Dad now. I want to share so much with my mom now, but at times I don't know if her heart can take it. Like the trauma I'm processing now at this moment.

I haven’t had any strength to actively really talk to anyone unless, unfortunately, business related. Shocker. I saw a quote on social media, also on the Joe Budden Podcast i’ma rephrase it, but essentially it states: People don’t fail in the music industry due to lack of talent, but lack of endurance. How does your body hold up? How does your emotional, mental stay grounded when something goes wrong? How do you act during downtime, when the cameras are off, no one is checking for you, and it seems everything is silent? Can you handle a million no’s? I had a conversation with moms about the Diddy documentary, she revealed that she got terrified about me going in the industry, because of someone trying to take advantage of that endurance and hunger.

They say an overnight success is 10-15 years in the game. This includes open mics, networking, recording, spending money, plotting on your next moves etc. 

What i find to be heartbreaking is the “no’s” or the secretive sucka hating shit from your own community and space. Fuck what the people you don’t know is going to say. Art is subjective and its not made for everyone. Not everyone is going to connect with everything, not everyone is going share the same opinion. We create the door as artists, however you need community to open it in whatever way you deem fit for your situation. Your people know you best. The people that know you best has closer access to burn everything you work for down purposely. 

My parents raised me to be this way. To be overly protective of myself. Its hard to unlearn, because there is a lot more cases than false that someone wasn’t trying to use me for their own gain business gain, using me to be their emotional cushion. My emotional availability is based on a personal desire rather than reciprocal and I think that’s my misstep. Recently a friend compared my life to the chainsaw man anime. I never seen it, but the premise she told me was the main character has a particular demon heart other characters want so they try to be friends and him to get what they want, his heart. She said, “goodness all these people in Chris’ life I hope they’re entering for the right reasons.” No lie a little funny and weird that the fact this came from someone I dated and broke my heart years ago, but I digress. We both moved on and friends now. This is actually coming from the girl I kissed on the forehead.

Rest in Peace Mr Doz

In this reflection, I do have to say, I certainly wasn’t the best partner, or didn’t have the best approach at times. I’m anxiously attached. Its from a fear of, again, “don’t fuck it up.” Coming on too strong, too forward, develop something too fast, I tend to get scared that the wave is going to knock me off board and i’ll just drown. I do feel it in my heart at times to apologize or clear the air with certain people, but I feel that’ll open a door that should be remained closed.

Just like with careers, love is an endurance game. Just like with love, grief is an endurance game. Just like with grief, life is a endurance game. All of it is how hard can you get hit, get back up and not let shit change you.

I feel I’m doing good because i’m still standing doing what I want, but the biggest lie would be to sit here and say I don’t toy with thoughts of quitting. Toying with those thoughts is from a place of “I feel by myself and I’m scared of collapsing any second now.” Fucked up thing about it is, well, you gonna be by yourself either way, so fuck it, right? Whether you pursue your dreams or not, you are still your own responsibility, just less things to deal with. 

To be here and to write this and give the rawest form of myself it’d be a lie to not say "haven’t I gone through enough? Where the fuck is my grammy? or at bare minimum can I get sustainable living?"

Don’t lose your head, my nigga. Forward we go.