Don’t Follow Me.

There is enough evil in this world, we need not add to it. I remember, in my twenties, holding a firm belief that I should strive to be part of something bigger than myself. I sought to do good and to serve others. I suppose that I thought I could work my way into an organization and earn an indelible legacy. Now I am fighting to detangle my life from the harm that lie caused me.

The organization chart was a pyramid with one man on top. At the broad bottom, there were hundreds of us. Most of us seemed to believe the same thing but there were broken worker bees as well. I remember seeing those who had become casualties of the system. We all thought that they were burnt out and just needed to retire. God, what hell they must have been in. But nevertheless I put sweat equity into that career. I preached personal sacrifice to those who came behind me. And I preached personal sacrifice to my family, who was awarded the remnants that were left of me. As I slowly ascended the workplace hierarchy I became indoctrinated; I was leading by example. If you asked me, I’d say that was living the dream, making a difference. I felt like I was neck and neck with the Jones’. And I fucking loved it. I was part of the system. 

And then, just like the cliche, everything came crashing down. Tragically, this was my literal experience as 400 lbs of steel equipment fell on top of me due to a poor design and mechanical failure. And just like that, I was broken. My helmet saved my life but did not shield me from severe deficits. It was my strength that failed me though. I believed that I could stand back up and recover. I wanted to cowboy-up and preserve my reputation. I had to return to my spot in that place that was bigger than me. I needed to get back to the hierarchy. With an under treated traumatic brain injury, my family and I were left to navigate the system without assistance. In workers comp, you are faking it until you can prove otherwise and I was broken in a broken system. 

Head injury specialists were requested repeatedly but the gatekeepers were fierce. My employer was legally off the hook long before I regained any bearings. Instead of being supported, I was ushered out the door and under the rug even after I appealed the process up my chain of command. I had given my youth and my strength to be part of a system that quickly cast me aside. As a faithful soldier, a man of the company, I had surrendered my freedom to work mandatory overtime, receive schedule and assignment changes outside of my control. Regard to a member's life, their plans and their families were never factored in. Obediently I gave them myself, over and over. It wasn’t until I found my place in the purgatory of workers comp that I felt truly powerless and at the mercy of a system that took no responsibility for dismantling the life that I had chosen. The organization that I had believed was a vehicle for good, felt no obligation to do what was right.

Remaining angry would have been easy. I never received an apology for cost that my family and I had to bear. But the gift that I was given was the knowledge that the organization that I served, the thing that was bigger than myself, was and will remain more broken than me. Healing required the death of my dream and the loss of a pathway. Had my injury never occurred, perhaps this system would have harmed me more over the natural progression of my years in its service. I have come to terms with the evil that organizations become. They are beyond the capacity of humanity.

Now two and a half years later, I am recovering my body and my mind but I am still trying to understand life apart from system. The good that I had tried to be, as a cog in the machine, is not gone but my pathway is murky now. Holding myself to my own high standards, I am striving to figure things out as an independent artist. I have no idea where I am going on this new journey but I know that it will be without organizational flow charts. I do not want to depend upon established platforms, such as social media, for success. Such algorithms are without soul. Instead, I will be building my next steps myself. My goals don’t include going viral or becoming a brand. I want to have growth as an artist, regardless of number of followers or subscribers. Art cannot be separated from humanity. I have to do my best work for me. I hope that the things that I create speak to you but to be clear, they are for me. If you believe that this is a terrible business model, please don’t follow me.