HastyWords's Blog, page 5

#BeReal MATTHEW MATTOCKS

Hello my friends.

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve posted a new #BeReal piece but I met Matthew Mattocks and wanted you to meet him too.

I’ve been Facebook friends with Matthew for many years. He was and is a friend to a few of my good friends. I recently joined him with my friends for a fun night of horror trivia and painting. He’s a joy to hang with.

Like all of my #BeReal guests Matthew has come to tell his story and I’m so grateful he took the time for us. Matthew suffered a near fatal stroke in his 20’s and has been working hard to get his mobility and hopefully independence back.

Please help me in welcoming Matthew Mattocks .

Hello!

My name is Matthew Mattocks. I’m an artist, a friend, a brother, and a survivor. I’ll give a breakdown of my life in two parts. The life before my accident, and the life since.

Let’s start with the fact that I’ve always been a lover. A lover of pretty much everything. Every walk of life. Music, theatre, movies, reading, writing, people. You name it I will find at least one aspect to praise. Respect is something I have always valued in this life. Even if you don’t like something you don’t have to be hateful towards the subject at hand.

Part one:

Art has always played a huge role during the course of my life. In the way I approach situations and what attracts people to me. Ever since I was 14 music has played a HUGE part of my life. Opened up an entirely new planet that is the universe of life. My acceptance of the existence of diversity. I only knew about life through what my family was listening to or watching. I would spend equal hours practicing and observing.

Then theatre entered my life out of nowhere. I was sitting in an Oklahoma History class when someone walked in and said that the drama teacher would like to see me. Little did I know that she would send me on the adventure of a lifetime. She offered me a role and I hesitantly accepted. After my extremely nervous acting debut I was completely engulfed. The fact that I would be in the mind of a completely different person, and I was supplying a detour for people from the everyday woes that is life. Just being able to disappear from my tumultuous everyday life. At the same time being able to allow people the same opportunity.

And there is no way I would have been able to get through life without the love and patience of my brother David Dobson. We were almost worlds apart but in the same galaxy. 12 years difference. We hung out at least once a month throughout my teens and his 20s. We have the same mom, but different dads. Even though we have the same mother we had vastly different versions. Our entire upbringing was different…until it sadly wasn’t…

We lost our mother in 1999. Our lives would start to intertwine in a few ways. Just at different stages in our lives. A story in itself.
Abuse, neglect, love, loss, all the above and so much more.

College starts and my creativity skyrockets. Within the first couple weeks of college I got into a stranger’s car that was carrying an extra passenger in the back seat. This is the moment I truly met these strangers. Elizabeth and Matt (very conveniently named). This was the first time I had seen a performance that I wasn’t a part of. I loved every single moment. Liz was a part of the theater and Matt more in the filmmaking department. Now I was very intrigued about filmmaking. Not restricted to a single audience, but the entire world. And Matt and I hit it off right away. On almost every level of “favorites”.

To keep this rant a little shorter the arts opened up my life almost completely. Different races, religions, music, all identities. And I loved every single one and they loved me back. Unconditionally.

Then one fateful morning it all came to an immediate halt. No grinding. Just END.

Part 2:

I had it all, and loved every part of my life. Not to say tribulations didn’t occur. Life was definitely full of those.

One morning I was on my way to work. Watching my niece for my brother. I was basically his assistant for anything he needed. From realty to changing his daughter’s diaper. It wasn’t like me to call into work. I was coming up to the interstate when I got light headed, and dizzy, all of the sudden. Not just a little off balance but the entirety of the landscape was having a hard time staying grounded after every blink of my eyes. I called my brother to tell him I wasn’t doing well, and had to call the work day off.

Don’t ask me how I managed to make it back home. It was ten times worse than I imagine drunk driving would be.

I made it inside my house. The interior performing a strange, drunken, waltz before my eyes. Nothing was stationary. I went to the fridge and got myself some water. Stumbled over to the couch and sat down. It was a plop of a seat. Violent and sloppy. The entirety of my body felt like a collapsing building.

I had the urge to eat something. Anything to appease my empty stomach. Maybe that would satiate the dancing record player. I went into the kitchen again. Opened up the fridge to retrieve a container of (of all things) broccoli I had cooked the night before. Put it in the microwave, and when I retrieved it the house turned upside down.

I could not find my footing and the bowl instantaneously became 100 lbs heavier.
Before I knew it I was on my knees. I sat the bowl down hoping that would alleviate some of the gravity of the situation. I got back to my feet. My body felt heavy, and my legs felt weak. I couldn’t muster the strength to fully extend them. The more they extended the heavier the air that surrounded my body became.

“I have to make it back to the couch” was the only thing I had on my mind. About halfway on the journey back my legs gave out completely. The only chance I had to return to comfort was to crawl.

I managed to get onto the couch. I remember looking for my phone. I retrieved it from my pocket, but just as soon as it had exited my pocket I had lost control of my hands. I couldn’t hold onto it. In fact I couldn’t move at all. It was just me, a glass of water, and a IPhone 6. One just as motionless as the next.
As I stared at the dimly lit screen that rested on my lap the house’s front door let out a series of steady coughs. Someone was knocking. The handle jiggled. Nope. Not moving. Not opening for anyone. The house was locked.

A few moments pass and then the backdoor started barking. This figure was destined to obtain entry.

Everything started to dim and become black. A crash. Someone had broken through the backdoor glass, and hurriedly so.

Somehow my body had been shocked enough to sit up. I grabbed the glass of water, took a drink and in the same instant it came flooding out of my mouth. Everything went pitch black. Just before the blackout I saw my brother’s face. He had broken in. He knew something wasn’t right.

Over the next moments the world was presenting itself under a strobe light. Images flashing reminding oneself of a flip book or quick cuts in a movie.

My brother’s face, my friend Kyle’s face, back to my brother’s, who the fuck is that guy, Kyle, where am I?, it’s hot and bright, is my cat alright? The thoughts started to outweigh the images…then black. Absolute darkness. An opacity achievable only by covering your eyes in a pitch black theatre. Is that where I am? In a play that takes place in the dark? This show sucks….

I can finally open my eyes. I’m in a hospital. I put that together. What I can’t seem to piece together is why. I just had a headache and some weird dreams.

There are white coats surrounding me. They’re talking to me. Or are they talking to my brother? Why am I not moving? I can blink and move my eyes. I just can’t talk or move.

“Blink twice for ‘yes’ and once for ‘no'”

Hearing this came as a surprise. First voice I’ve heard in hours. It came from a doctor. He asked again (and I’m phrasing just how I remember it) “If you were to completely blackout would you want to be resuscitated?” I only blinked once. I’m scared…I want whatever this was to end…I fell asleep.
It’s cold. I can’t breathe. I know my chest is moving, but I can’t draw air.

Sleep…

I was awoken by the doc. He asked again “If you were to completely black out do you want to be resuscitated?” I blink twice.

Sleep…

I wake up to a room absolutely overflowing with my friends. Most of them in tears. Suck it up! What are you crying for? Yeah, my mind humor is definitely still intact.

Old friends I haven’t seen since high school. New friends I haven’t seen since….since last night….

The doctors are talking about drugs. I don’t do drugs. Sure, roll a bone and pass it my way, but no drugs. So much is, and has been, happening one might think the world was ending.

Perhaps a world did end that day?

Fast forward a few weeks. Months? I don’t freaking know. My cousin (Dustin) I haven’t seen in a while, my other cousin Kaydee, my friend Jared telling me about the time he was in the same hospital. All the love from all of my friends.

More time passes. It’s time for me to get out of the hospital. But where do I go? I’m literally laying motionless, shitting in a diaper (not this phase of life again…), in a hospital bed. Countless nights of never actually getting sleep. Nurses, CNAs, doctors, entering my room every two hours during the night. There was a reason to their madness. You don’t want to lay in your own filth. Not just because it’s disgusting, but it will eat away and damage your skin. So I guess I’m thankful.

Holy shit! Who is in that chair? Who’s in my room? Oh, chill out. It’s just your friend. You have friends who stay overnight with you? I fucking love them. That chair (green chair of doom) looks more uncomfortable than lying on a bed of nails.

Person after person. No one will take. They say “I’m too young”. Wait, who is this? She’s absolutely gorgeous. She’s an angel. I don’t even believe in angels or the like. But if there was a such thing. She fits the description to the tee. Candace Williams. She’s talking to me as if I’m a human. First time in weeks I actually feel like I’m being seen as a regular human. (Friends excluded. Including the friends I’ve made along this weird journey.) She takes me in. A nursing home in the middle of nowhere. Hours away.

This is where I meet my first therapists.
I can move my arm! Maybe if I keep trying I’ll be able to move more of my body?! I made a noise. The first real noise I’ve legitimately made in weeks! Months? Through the extremely hard work of myself, and everyone surrounding me,

I get strong enough to get into an actual therapy hospital. Jim Thorpe Southwest. About a month goes by. I get so much stronger. I’m actually using the toilet again . Physically and vocally I make strides. Making lifelong friends throughout my stay. (Even celebrated my 30th birthday with them). Not exactly the way I planned on celebrating that occasion, but it was pretty great.

Therapy ends. That’s it? It’s going to take a hell of a lot more work than a month…well, months pass. My body starts to regress. It’s becoming more of a challenge to speak again. Why did that therapy have to stop? We were making great progress! Even the therapists themselves wanted to keep working. Rules? I fucking hate rules. Rules ruin lives.

Anyway, let me bring this story to a somewhat abrupt end. There are so many more stories that need to be told. So many more people for you guys to meet.

Let’s end this tale with some positivity!

So here we are. I’m still in a nursing home. Still making friends with almost everyone I come in contact with. The only reason I’m here is because I can’t transfer myself safely. I can’t keep a steady regiment of fitness. I get to where I can pull myself up to a standing position reasonably easy, and the fitness has to end. Thus my body regresses again. No matter how much I try. I can only do so much by myself. It all comes down to funding/money. The trainers have lives too.

The last trainer I had is so awesome. Jerad Johnson. Check him out at Four Star Fitness. Dude is so cool, down to earth, will listen to you, ask questions. If you know of someone who’s needing help after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s , or a brain injury, he is your guy. Especially if their therapy is ending.
https://www.jjrecoveryfitness.com/

I never thought I would be so depressed. I never thought I would be so brave. I never thought I would think so lowly about myself. Who would date, or want to be with someone in my situation? Man, I might have died. The doctors told me I’d never move or talk again. Well, I’m moving and talking.

Slowly learning how to play instruments again. Slowly building up the confidence to live my life to the best of my abilities. In which my abilities are changing every single day.

During the pandemic I took up painting. I’ve never really painted before. Dabbled? Sure. But never even thought about taking it seriously. It changed my life in a big way. The smallest mark can lead to the biggest impact. Starting with acrylic landscapes, and now oil painting portraits. Lifelike has never fully interested me. It’s boring to me. It’s pretty yeah, but give me a painting that takes me on a journey. That captures the imagination.

As for the friends that overfilled the lobby in the hospital? They’re still there even if we don’t talk much. They have lives too. I know in my heart that the moment we see each other we’ll be hugging a second later. I still regularly (extremely thankfully) talk to, and hang out, with my best friends. Go to Disney with my brother. I’m able to leave this place and join in on shenanigans with the ones I love. Concerts, the lake, chilling at the house, karaoke.

I’m extremely thankful for what I still have.
Sure, it’s a little different. Maybe Mother Nature just got bored and decided to play an extremely cruel prank on me and my friends. Maybe some supernatural force? I don’t really care. Hahaha they had their laugh. You’re not going to keep me down. I have an ever extending army.

The gusts of a thousand winds wouldn’t keep us from opening a can on your ass.

Okay, okay, getting off topic.

The answer to life? Don’t take things for granted. There are things that I still have to stop and think about how grateful I should be.
Love everyone. Even when they have differing opinions, and maybe say something that offends you. Be the bigger person and walk away. You have people that love you. One person is not going to take that fact away.

Life is full of corners. One corner hides a boogeyman, and the next hides the love of your life.

Never give up. Spread love.

Ps: I am so thankful that I can hug again.

If you would like to support me in getting more physical fitness please donate to the following:

Venmo:
https://venmo.com/code?user_id=3210734821441536750

PayPal:
https://www.paypal.me/matthewdeanmattocks

CashApp:
https://cash.app/$MatthewMattocks

Please follow to see the art I have for sale:

https://www.facebook.com/share/AqDvmPViLqGpGTcZ/?mibextid=K35XfP

SILENCE LIVES HERE

Hiding behind scars

As if they are trees

Camouflaged

And silent

And buried deep

Are the cries of help

And the hopes of joy

All words end here

Some days I can’t even speak without hating myself.

WHEN I CRIED

There was a time before I was diagnosed with severe depression that it seemed all the pain was leaking out of my eyes. I don’t miss those tears.

I cried into my oatmeal

No real reason why

Just really tired you see

I cried on the treadmill

I felt broken and betrayed

Need a nap probably

I cried as I drove away

An old man smiled at me

You need some sleep dearie

I cried when you hugged me

The love feels undeserving

Shut my eyes 1, 2, 3

I cried into my pillow

Staining my whole world

There is no sleep for me

As I cry tick tick tock

My everyday drowned

Inside a saltwater sea

THE COMFY NEST

We try so hard sometimes to fit into worlds we aren’t compatible with. It took too long for me to realize I had a lot to offer to the right person. I finally started building a nest my way and home came to me.

I tried to weave myself into a life

Just a comfy place I could call home

Maybe a small piece of gray or pearl

Tucked in between some sky blue 

Or maybe into some sexy black lace 

But I’m built of twine and cottony seeds

A bit prickly like cactus leaves

No softness or green left in me

Just a throw away mix of dry dead leaves

I really did try to weave myself into a life

And learned I couldn’t weave for shit

 

INSIDE HALLWAYS

I don’t write a lot of happy poetry because I share my happiness fully and freely with people. I write poetry when I’m frustrated, angry, or hurt. I write poetry because I can share my thoughts without burdening someone else with them. I have plenty of people who wouldn’t consider it a burden but for me… I like you smiling.

But if you find yourself here and reading one of my darker pieces I sincerely hope it makes you feel less alone in your frustrated, angry, and painful moments. Not every emotion can be a good one. We are all just trying to make sense of a world we are just a tiny part of.

I feel it’s important to understand this poem is not about me. Often when I read something horrific I write to wrap my mind around the horror.

Recently, I read a news story about a family man who killed most of his family and himself. It’s a gruesome reminder that what we see on the outside isn’t always what can be found on the inside. This poem is about a house with growing children and learning brains but it’s really more about not knowing what’s inside a person.

A house filled with hallways

Rooms full of stretching skin

And shaping untrained muscle

Growing brains like fungus

Absorbing the joy and the pain

Not understanding the difference

But painting the walls nonetheless

With knuckles and holes and

Accidental floors pooling blood

Stubbed toes and broken bones

A house filled with hallways

Isn’t always called a home

 

THE SHADOWS

Today I sat with some past traumas. Sometimes they surface and I’ve learned to listen.

Light leaves the room

Full of shadows

I close my eyes

And wish words away

I wish her away

I wish him away

But the shadows stay

And I know tomorrow

I’ll never feel the same

Because the shadows

Grabbed my heart

And threw it away

GROWING

We have to grow into things

And sometimes it’s dark and cruel

That expectation

To just be able to do and do

And when you can’t do

Because that isn’t how you grow

The judgement is stifling

The community goes quiet

And the growing into things

Becomes backing out of things

Becomes avoiding things

And the avoiding becomes

This broken thing

You can’t unbreak for them

And it can take years

To understand you can grow

Your own way

Over and over again

IT’S IN THE SHARING

My poetry prompt for NaPoWriMo and Cheer Peppers is a flow painting. Two red fall trees. More art on Hastywords Art.

The flowers were so pretty

The sunset so full of color

The ocean waves had

So many songs to sing

And as time passed

The horizon darkened

And the moon hid

The clouds bellowed

And rained their pain

Every mountain too high

Every river too fast

Every curved road

Leading somewhere alone

And I sat wondering

Where the beauty went

And then one day

Someone else noticed

I loved how fall trees

Could be so red

And the world started

Being beautiful again

TAKING BETS

My poetry prompt for NaPoWriMo and Cheer Peppers is a flow painting. I see a storm beating on a small house in the upper right corner. Can you see it? I feel like it describes our current climate in the world today. Original for sale on Hastywords Art.

The chaos comes

And then it goes

Poured out like

Liquid courage

On the desperate

On the meek

While

Warriors run

With torches

And

Monsters drink

With God

Taking bets

On which

Lies will win

THE NIGHTMARES

My poetry prompt for NaPoWriMo and Cheer Peppers is a mixed media painting that began as a flow painting but it ended up with these strange paint holes. After a year of holding onto the canvas I saw eyes peeking through and decided to pick it back up and finish it. Prints and shoes available for sale on Hastywords Art.

The voice doesn’t match the face

The movement is stop motion

The expectation is disturbing

And I can’t move, can’t breathe

You say my name as if it’s yours

And your skin like sandpaper

Slides down my back and arms

I close my mind to the hate

I see inside your liquid eyes

As you cut off all your scars

A tapestry of all your hurt

And lay them on my belly

Demanding the pain be mine