They say it's always best to start and the begining...

In the begining...Gawd Created the Heavens and the Earth...Hell is an Urban Renewel project!

I am an only son. I have 3 sisters and no brothers. I grew up in a home that was, at best, beyond dysfunctional. Even early on I knew that I was the least favorite of the offspring. Simply because I was a male. My father left my mother when I was 6 years old. Even today my mother admits that she drove him out of the house. But his leaving did not keep her from going off the deep end, grabbing one of his guns and going out to look for him. After all, he'd left her with 3 kids and no money. When she came home she was quite lit on booze and bennies (barbituates) and instead...found me.

While I may not have been overly intelligent at this point I knew enough that when someone points a gun at you...you run. I did not count on her proficiency at hitting a small and fast moving target even in her condition. She shot me twice (she was drunk and high but still nailed a running 6 year old at 20 yards). Mind you this was 1966...we didnt even have FM radio in Miami let alone Child Protective services. Nothing was done to my mother. In fact, she told everyone for years that I found my fathers gun and shot myself...twice! Over the years my mother had broken more bones in me than Evil Knievel. I think I spent most of the 6th & 7th grade with casts, on crutches or in slings.

When I was 10 my mother remarried. A scrawny, alcoholic chef with a Hitler mustache and a mentality to match. He didnt want to be "dad" he wanted "quiet". Especially from me and especially at night. He was the kind of slime that runs through childrens nightmares. But he was all to real in my world. Because I still have a hard time talking about what he did to me and to my younger sister...I will not dwell on him or his crimes here. Suffice it to say if you can imagine the depths of deprivation a human can sink to with a child (without killing them) Then you'll be close. But for years I lived in absolute Hell.

After a short but liberating stay in Japan (2½ years). I returned to that cauldron of dispair that, beyond my reason, I called "home" and discovered I was grown (I was 16 now) and that the slime had done to my baby sister what he did to me. I went nuts and tried my best to kill him with my bare hands. I had grown up with hate, anger and rage since childhood and it finally hit the boiling point. I had been studying martial arts since I was young and I was going to kill that thing that day. I attacked him and was literally beating him to death! To save him from me, my mother planted a Sears upright vacuum cleaner in my spine like a sledgehammer. I wound up in a body cast for 3 months. I spent the next 5 months learning to walk again. I wound up in state foster care and my mother was convicted of aggravated child abuse. My step-perp was smart enough to get drunk and hit his head on a coffee table and die before his formal charges were filed. The only regret I have about his death...was that it was not by my hands!

I know many people may be turned off by my embracing my hate. But understand for me it was a matter of survival! My anger was what kept me warm at night, it never left me, it never mistreated me. It was the one thing I could count on. And if I had been only a little more attentive to my surroundings it would have furnished me my vengence and some retribution for my sister. I would have gladly done the time! I also became an alcoholic and addict because of my experiences. I deliberately self medicated because I did not want to feel or deal with it all. I couldnt face it then! See...I never learned how to block things from my mind. I wish I could. And I wanted to drown or burn them from my brain! I failed naturally...but I sure gave it the old college try!

It's been 34 years since that day. And alot of things have changed. I'm almost 50 now. I've been married and divorced twice. My wives never knew the extent of the hell I went through. In retrospect I doubt it would have changed the outcome. I've spent time in mental hospitals and institutions. I had a great career and travelled the world. I made and lost fortunes and have probably lost my sanity more times than I can count. I dont think I ever truly had sanity to begin with. But out of everything...I do have a wonderful son who has never known a moment of the horrors I've lived through. He got what I never did. Unconditional love and understanding. I didnt know these things in my youth, but I knew that I wanted them. I also knew that my son needed them. My son saved my life. He brought me out of a dispair so deep that it literally swallowed me. And if there is anything in my life I take pride in...its that he is the man he is today. Not because of me...but because he got the love and understanding he needed!

I posted this today (on the 14th anniversary of my Sobriety Date) because I wanted to. I kept it short because I dont think I could have covered it all in this small box. I dont know if you can understand all this or even if you believe it. It doesnt matter. I lived through it...I survived it and now I live my life in defiance of everything I went through. With a loving woman, my son and a deep, fervent hope that for all the men out there like me who survived the horrors we did...that you can learn not only how to survive...but how to LIVE!

Hang in there my brothers...there is life out there!



Edited by ModTeam (12/10/09 09:28 PM)
Edit Reason: Edited to add trigger warning
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“Religion is for people who are afraid of going to Hell...Spirituality is for those of us who've already been there”