I am who I am. You may not know me, but you surely know my name. I am Kevin Hart, but not the funny guy you know from Hollywood movies. I can be a goofball and a big kid at heart, even sometimes my life is a joke, but there is nothing funny about my struggle. You wouldn’t laugh at what I’ve been through. You wouldn’t scoff at what I’ve overcome. Can I tell you… I’m not done yet.
Count my food addiction and you’d see that I wasn’t counting calories. I sure was eating them, but not for the right reasons. Though I trained hard in my athletics, I had a sweet tooth from the beginning. This was my getaway from a place called “home”. Being an adopted child can definitely be a bit confusing, and maybe I just didn’t take the time to wonder. I had a mind of my own, and I guess if that left me to be alone, I was all but well on the inside. So I thought I was well enough, but anytime I had thoughts of self, what bubbled to the surface was something I didn’t like. I was happy to be selfless, especially since it meant that very rarely did I have to check myself and be faced with what it looked like. I hid behind a veil of perfectionism and sometimes I still do, because if they only see your results, maybe they won’t bother with seeing you. Oddly enough, the very thing I needed was the thing that most frightened me.
I wanted deeply to be noticed, acknowledged, and cared for all my life. I ran from it because internally I had a yearning, but on the outside I knew I didn’t deserve it. My external surroundings told me all I needed to know. That was to “stay in your lane, be mediocre like your folks, and don’t challenge the norm.” Somewhere in my heart, I made a vow to always rebel against that line of thinking and I’m quite glad I did. Mentally, I’ve been a million miles wandering around these parched badlands of unsolicited discouragement. I’m not sure how health and wellness caught up to me. Sanity did a number on my soul, keeping intellect and reason closely intact, but this deeper part of me is driven absolutely crazy about the things we overlook, too often for lack of hope. Maybe I’m just considered crazy to challenge a world that pretends it doesn’t know. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I wake up, stare into the mirror, and can’t help but feel ashamed. For so long I thought it was just me. An insecurity had control over me. I was wrong to belittle myself under the weight of the world, but each and every conviction of thought and experience led me closer to the truth. I had shame, and surely it wouldn’t leave. I just didn’t understand why it needed to stay. Until now, I know, I was ashamed of my share in humanity.
To be like everyone else, I could not accept such a feat. I had to honor what was lying underneath, and the shallow flesh that rules the world had to decrease in me to trust and believe. That same flesh is that which rises up and entices me to pay precious energy on a porn addiction that does nothing to serve me. The flesh, it hungers to squander my vast inheritance. Therein lies the poverty complex that seems to hold me in bondage with fear, lack, and self pity about where I come from and where I’ve been. Even when I overcome it momentarily, persecution breeds a sense of disconnect and allows a way for my enemies to obstruct the race I’m running and bring me right back down to my knees. If only prayer was my default mode, alone, like those empty days on the driveway at home playing with baseball cards scattered all over the place learning the career statistics of every lucky boy who ever grew up to play in the major league show. I miss those peaceful times.
There’s an intimate spot in my heart that connects with the world every now and then. It may bring me to tears and make me into the most gentle of men. Short lasting it is, to be love in a world so dim. I become a beast again before night fall, and there I’m met with sin. I could be better, and I’ll admit I know better, but to be kept from being dragged back in? You could say the struggle is real, and it’s provoked on the outside just to be intensified within. Just when you think you’ve broken loose from the chains, there you are defending yourself innocently while being attacked by family, friends, and closest of kin. The devil knows our weaknesses all too well, so unity is rare and grace is slim. I’m a college dropout with a story to live and live again, through the words I speak into keyboards and pens. This is where I begin.. Overcoming bullies and battlefields. I am who I am, and I can because I can.