Today, I was offered love and care by those who love me and through their intervention find a path towards my own redemption.

by Teddy Fikre  written:  Monday, January 16th, 2012

I sat through a four intervention today after my sister read the Depression Fikre article I wrote yesterday.  She read my words and saw in them a suicide note; after crying the whole night thinking that I was about to off myself, she decided to call for an emergency intervention. While I was drinking Hennessy shot after shot and dancing with perfect strangers at Babylon, she spent the whole night thinking I was about to have a reunion in heaven with my father.  She called my phone endlessly while I was in my car at Babylon’s parking lot sleeping off the intoxication.

I did not know what she was up to, somehow I made it home from my intoxicated state and slept immediately on the sofa at Chez Teddy. Martha must have called at least 30 times trying to get a hold of me.  Unable to reach me, she sent over my brother Million to see if I was still breathing.  Thus a knock at 11:00 AM, I pretended that I did not hear it.  Then a key insertion, shit, that nigga Million has the key to my apartment.  He saw me then for my full glory, Chez Teddy looking like Mogadishu littered with countless bottles of beer, wine, and liquor. Hell, too late now to hide in my shame, I opened up my retina and looked straight at him.  I saw in his iris a look of equal regret and worry—he was glad I was alive but almost cried a tear at my living death.  I decided to get up from my state of inertia and make him laugh with a self-deprecating joke.  The joke alas was me—badum bum!

It was at that moment that Million beseeched me to call Martha and reassure her that I was alive.  Thus I dial her cell phone and on the other side of the line I could hear an exhaling sigh of joy and fear.  I knew something was in the work—a coup d’état was formed against me by my on family.  She begged me to come over for lunch and put down my pen and pad for at least one day.  I gave in, I smoked a cigarette with Million on my balcony, took a shower, then headed over to Martha’s house and Million followed me with 3 bags of trash from my abode.  This is what my life has been reduced to, inducing tears from strangers and endless worries from my own family. There are 10,000 homeless men and women like me in the Streets of DC, the difference is that I have family in my corner who refuse to give up on Teddiye.

Thus, today, I barely got on Facebook, I barely tweeted a twit on twitter,  and no articles were published on browncondor.com.  First I headed over to Starbucks with laptop in hand while sipping buna I bought from 7-11.  Imagine, me a perfect mooch sipping coffee from 7-11 while using Starbucks free Internet.  Poetic justice I thought, I always pop my collars against hurricanes (again with the literal crutch) named corporations.  Having done my revolutionary deed for the day, I decided to head over to Martha’s perfect home.  There I find her opening the door and clutching at me to hug me and be reassured that I was actually breathing.  She made me Salmon burger and I had a great lunch while eating it with vegan chips.  Ah my sister Martha, she is a revolutionary in her own way—it runs in the family I guess.

But this DOPE meal came with a cost, soon enough I found myself facing an organized intervention.  First it started with just Martha, soon enough Leno joined in, and just when I had enough, there comes Million and Abezash to form an executioner’s circle—they shot me endlessly with bullets of truth and sanctified me righteously.  I could not escape the conclusion of this collusion crew, they laid it plainly. Teddiye—one after the next stated plainly—you are literally on the way to committing suicide and writing about it on Facebook and twitter. Now I can debate with the best of them; give me a topic about anything and I will debate you until you see my way.  But this was not a debate I was about to win today, it was an indictment of my own insanity.  I was trapped in a corner of love and there in Alexandria my sister and brother and their loving husband and wife opened up a window and lit my dark lit corner I had grown so comfortable with.

This is day one, tomorrow I shall decide to make that change and to take their loving water and heal myself from my own wounds.  I can choose to be defined by others or I can define my own life according to my own definition.  I can choose to love myself and disregard the hatred of others or I can choose to create fictions of oppression from fictitious characters in my head.  These are the choices that we all make—we are all bound to this Sophi’s choice—we can follow in the shadows of others or we can boldly shed ourselves from the gravity of dark stars and shine with radiance. Today, I was offered love and care by those who love me and through their intervention find a path towards my own redemption.  I have a choice to make, I was given the tools to determine a new way forward; now I just have to take it and make it my own.  All this, reborn by a DOPE intervention.

“However, lifestyle intervention requires discipline with a tangible end result that is within reach. It requires personal resolve, a lifelong commitment.” ~Tim Holden

[click to see my moment in time, my intervention against me]

My Executioners and Intervention Peddlers

Martha & Leno Aberra

Million & Abezash Fikre

Author

Teddy Fikre

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