ADDICT: Thoughts of a Guilty Man

Sit, Stand, Roll Over

"Thank you for what you've done. That's what being a man is all about: Doing the right thing, even when you don't get acknowledged for it. Standing down even when you know you're not in the wrong. Being the bigger person without claiming praise for it. Keep it up, son."

- Someone's dad

Thank you for the praise. Thank you for finally noticing. Thank you for seeing what has always been. What I've been doing for years now. Although the praise came a little bit too late, I'll give you an A for effort. But where were you all these years? Where were you all the times I was the bigger person? Where were you when I stood down, despite knowing I was right? 

Now you're coming in with your fire extinguishers to put out the fire, but tell me, what is that to the wildfire you let burn? Where were you when the fire started in your own home? In the middle of your living room? Where were you? Nowhere to be seen. You let it burn. You never noticed the flames licking the walls until the whole house was on fire. You let the fire burn until it turned into a blazing wildfire, then you finally came with your extinguisher. 
And now you come in saying, "Let me try and turn out the fire, just the little bit I see," with your little extinguisher, but tell me: What good is that when a whole mountain's ablaze? What good is a cup of water to a house on fire, let alone an entire mountain? A for effort, I guess. Thank you for finally noticing, but you still haven't seen the full picture. 

But that's the whole point, I guess; you not seeing the full picture. Nobody actually noticing the mountain aflame. So, thank you for coming in with your extinguishers. Feel free to put out that little corner you can see. Thanks for the effort, but it came in a little too late. 

I mean, you tell me to roll over when I should bite, and you wonder why I never even bark? 

You train a dog to bark at strangers, and bark is all it's going to do. You put it behind a gate, and it'll bark from there also. Bark, bark, bark. All bark and no bite. Then it becomes the dog's fault for barking too much, it doesn't seem dangerous anymore. If you tell it to be quiet, and it listens, you call it a bad guard dog. Great for family, maybe, but terribly friendly, it cannot guard anything. But it is just a dog. A dog has impulses. You set it loose and then it starts biting, you say it has rabies. So what is the dog supposed to do? What is it supposed to do, hmm? Left without a choice, it goes back inside the cage you built it, then it barks. Day in, day out. 
Then you come and taunt it, saying, "Hey, hey, this dog doesn't bite. It's loud, but that's all it is!" You give it your leg and it shuts up, because dare it bite you, you'll have it put down. It's too dangerous, you'll say. Take your leg away, and the dog will bark again. You? Vindicated. The dog? Victimised. But it's fine, as long as you still call it a good dog. It does its job, and that's all you need. 

What is the dog supposed to do? 

You feed a dog, you own him for life. You give him water, you give him shelter, the dog is yours. You give him a purpose, saying guard the house, and that's what the dog will do. Don't bite the hand that feeds you, or so the saying goes. Nobody said anything about the same hand being the one that abuses you. Nobody said anything about what to do when the hand that's supposed to feed you starves you instead. So, what does the dog do? 

Nothing. 

The dog simply follows blindly, clinging onto the hope that the same hand that fed him once will feed him again one day. You train the dog with treats, and it'll listen to you. You build that relationship, then you take away the privileges, but what is the dog supposed to do? He is just a dog. Tell him to sit, he sits. Lie down, he lies down. Roll over, he rolls over. Good dog. Next time you tell him to sit, he refuses. You tell him to roll over, he just stares at you. Suddenly, he is a bad dog. You don't know why he refuses; maybe there is something on the ground that you cannot see. But it doesn't matter, he is still a bad dog because he didn't listen to you. 

And so, the dog goes back to what it knows to do best: Bark. All bark, and no bite. Why? Because you taught him to roll over. Somebody pushed you? Roll over. Looked at you wrong? Roll over. You know you're right, but they won't listen? Roll over. Feel free to bark, but that won't make a difference. You have a voice, yes. You know how to use it, congratulations. You may bark all you want. It's not going to change anything, though. Your facts and their facts are different. Yours do not matter because they're just opinions, from your point of view. Only theirs matters, because it is how it is, and it will be exactly how they say. 

Is it fair? No. Do they care? Also no. They will listen to you bark, they will answer all your questions, and they will give you space to speak. Will that make any difference? Again, no. Whatever they say, goes. Don't kill the messenger, they're only taking your place. You have complaints, I'm sure you do. Feel free to bark and bark and bark away. Go ahead and burn the whole mountain and everything in it. Nobody is stopping you. At the end of the day, you still won't have your way. 

They have a fire extinguisher. 

They hold your food. 

Everything they say, goes. 

Roll over.