So, I know it’s a bit backwards but I wanted to go back from my beginning of life problems. Almost all of this is VERY hard to talk about and I’ve not shared most of it with anyone besides my wife and therapist. I’ll probably make quite a few posts to get it all out, but writing it is going to be hard. I guess the only reason I’m willing to say it here is I never have to see anyone face to face. I never have to feel ashamed.
Writing here has been very therapeutic to me. I could care less if anyone ever reads it. It’s about me.
Obviously you can’t know where your going if you don’t know where you have been. Lol
Not sure what if any bearing this has on anything, but at age 1 I had a really bad fever of 105. I was given some medicine, my mom doesn’t remember what but it supposedly was very strong and had some potentially bad side effects is all she could remember.
I’ve had something wrong with me my whole life.
There are many many many parts of my memory that are still blank. I have years of my life I am clueless about. My mom will say, do you remember the time….an my answer is no most of the time.
I know we moved around a whole lot. Until high school I moved about every year, or every other year. So I was always the “new kid” in school.
I vaguely remember very early going to different schools for pre kindergarten. Then first grade. This is where my real story begins.
Around age five I was molested. Don’t remember a name. Or how long it went on. It was a teenage boy from down the road. I can distinctly remember 3 actual events. Places in my house. What was said. I know it happened more times but those are just fuzzy. From asking questions I estimate it went on for about two years. Reason being, I’m told two years later where we moved. I don’t remember any of that at all. In fact, I don’t remember anything from that event until I was about 12.
I am still haunted by those days as a kid. I don’t know who he was and don’t want to know. I am positive that if I found out I would kill him. I’ve thought about that meeting quite a few times. If by some odd chance I saw him and recognized him. I wouldn’t use a gun or knife. I would strangle him with my bare hands until he died. I wouldn’t sneak up behind him. I would confront him face to face. Remind him who I was if he didn’t recognize me. Then grab him and start choking. I’d look him in the eyes until the moment he took his last breath. I know this for a fact that it would happen. This is why I never looked any deeper into that event. I’m scared of what I would do because I know I wouldn’t stop. And I’m not willing to give him that power over me. I am not willing to waste my life in prison over some piece of crap.
The people I have shared this with keep telling me that I should learn to forgive him. That I may be stronger afterwards. That I may finally have my peace and closure for it happening.
I tell them to kiss my ass. For that, there is no forgiveness. I’m fairly sure if I found out some other person was doing it to someone else I just may kill them too.
This single event shaped the rest of my life. So many things and ways I act now I see as a direct correlation to that event. It pisses me off to know I can’t have that power back. That he still has power over me. I hate him. He ruined my life. He took away not only my innocence, but my heart. Not until years later does it open back up, only to be hurt again…But that’s for part two.
I’ll end it here since the next section isn’t till years later.
(To be continued)