I Can't Make This Up: Life Lessons

by Kevin Hart

“I don’t know, Kev. These are answers I don’t have. I’ve never seen—” Suddenly, something in me shrugged. It was a shoulder.

Lmaoooooo!!😂😂

That shrug sent a signal to my brain: The decision has been made. What’s getting to the bottom of it going to accomplish? Nothing. What’s moping about it going to accomplish? Nothing. You’re still you. Nothing’s changed. Look how beautiful New York is outside that window right now.

I was determined to show the industry that I wasn’t defeated, slumped over, depressed, complaining. That wasn’t gonna fix anything.

I wondered as I flew home on Monday: Where did I get this from? Who was it that jumped into my body at that moment to hold back the hurt and the tears? It must have been my dad. If it ain’t no big deal to get chopped up with an axe or walk out on your family, then it definitely ain’t no big deal when something as minor as a sitcom gets canceled.

Except the day I got high with Snoop Dogg.

Bishop lit a blunt, put it in his nose, and inhaled. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me at first. I’d never seen anyone smoke through their nose before—and I haven’t since. He passed the blunt to me. “That’s yours,” I told him. “I’m not putting that in my mouth, brother. That is yours for life.”

“Hi, Mom.” “Here, take this. You’ll feel better.” She handed me a blunt. I put it in my mouth and inhaled deeply. I could taste the end of it. It was slimy. Then I heard Bishop laughing. That fucking nose-smoker! I’d just introduced his snot to my digestive system. I got even more paranoid. My dick started itching. I began to worry that I’d caught something from him. It started spreading. I couldn’t see, and my whole body was itching. I scratched my chest. It felt like there were sores everywhere. I mean, why was he smoking through his nose? Probably because he had some disease in his mouth. I was done. All I remember about the filming that day was that when I climbed the ramp to get to eye level with Sofía Vergara, I fell off. That was my first and last time smoking with Snoop.

Thats hilarious, but idda wanted to fight 😤😩

Meanwhile, I’d spent nearly all the money I’d earned—most recently on watches, jewelry, bottle service at clubs, and meals at expensive restaurants—in an attempt to keep up with the Joneses. I wished I could find this Jones family and ask how they managed to stay ahead of everyone without ever having to worry about money. That would be a good TV show.

That’s when I learned the biggest lesson of all: humility. In the depths of my disappointment and failure, I understood that nothing in this life is guaranteed. One day you’re hot, the next you’re not. One day you’re rich, the next you’re poor. One day you’re free, the next you’re in jail. One day you’re alive, the next you’re dead.

So what are you to do in the face of a reality that can be indifferent, cold, even cruel? All you can do is play the odds. If you choose to give up, you can be fairly certain that life will pass you by. But if you choose to try your best, you can at least tip the balance significantly in your favor.

Within a month, I was on the road—and that’s when the quiet storm of Kevin Hart began.

Some nights, I had to wait until Torrei was asleep before going to bed, because I was worried that she’d try to harm me in my sleep.

There must be a part of me, I reasoned, that stays with Torrei because it’s so familiar. I’d spent years under my mom’s strict control, getting beaten if I stepped out of line or even thought about stepping out of line. So as much as I hated the drama with Torrei, I was also addicted to it.

You see how we marry our parents? We marry what we are used to. Poor Kev

Instead, she came up with the best name I could ever imagine for a daughter: Heaven Leigh Hart.

It is beautiful 😍🤗

Every time I saw Heaven in those first weeks, I told myself: I need to make this work. For her.

Everyone says that. Its easier said than done

My bunny rabbit, my lucky reminder to always be different, was dead. She’d killed Little Bigg Bunny, though she said she didn’t know how it had happened. I figured that they’d probably gotten into an argument because he was tired of eating carrots at home and wanted to go outside to hunt for wild carrots.

If God really wanted to handle those things Himself, without human participation, then he wouldn’t have created doctors.

I was able to take a few more days off, so I flew back to Philadelphia to visit my folks. I was worried I was going to lose them both, until I spoke to my father’s doctor, who explained to my relief that even though Dad was talking like he was gonna die any day, he was going to pull through just fine.

While she was speaking, Kenneth dozed off from exhaustion. Suddenly, Mom summoned strength from God knows where, reached out, and smacked him across the face. “You better wake up,” she rasped. “These could be the last words I ever speak, and you’re falling asleep!”

After I returned to Australia, I got the call from Kenneth. Mom was no longer in pain. She was in a better place. I instantly said a prayer, from me to her, thanking her for her love; letting her know that I was in this great position in life because of the lessons she taught me; and promising to continue honoring her by keeping her wisdom, compassion, and leadership alive in me. The producers allowed me to go back to Philadelphia one more time to make arrangements for the funeral and bury my mom, my rock, my teacher.

When you mourn, when you hurt, when someone you love—or everyone you love—passes, it may feel like a void has opened up in your universe. But in the universe, energy can never be destroyed. So if the pain and the absence existed only in my mind, then it wasn’t real. It was imaginary, and me being hurt or angry about it wasn’t going to change anything. There was nothing I could do except let go of a tragic story and embrace one that served me—and her—better. So I did. I chose not to lose my mom, and instead to gain an angel. In my mind, my heart, and my life, she is still completely present to this day—and as wise, compassionate, and stubborn as ever.

I was careful, though, never to humiliate or belittle Torrei, but instead to make me—my reactions, my cowardice, my inability to be the man in the relationship—the butt of the jokes.

All this set up a vicious cycle: The better I got at comedy, the more bookings I got. The more bookings I got, the worse things got at home. The worse things got at home, the better I got at comedy.

The only problem was that I couldn’t actually afford to do it myself. So while Dave worked on finding someone to help finance it, I kept touring and wrecking my marriage.

“My advice is don’t ask for advice,” he responded patiently. “Trust yourself and your own way of doing things. Just because something worked for someone else doesn’t mean it’s gonna work for you.”

That was just what I needed to get in the zone and stay there. When the show ended, I brought Heaven and Hendrix on stage. “Anyway, this is just so y’all can see that what I tell is the truth,” I began, and then got choked up. A flood of joy and relief roared through me and lifted me up. I’d done it.

It took a long time for Torrei’s mom to forgive me for dinging her credit. But American Express held its grudge even longer. Years later, when I was one of the highest-paid comedians in the world and had a great credit rating, I applied for a card and was still denied.

Two security guys appeared out of nowhere and instantly put me in a full Nelson, or a half Nelson or some sort of Nelson—whoever the fuck Nelson is, he had it in for me that night. He’s probably part of the Jones family.