Am I a survivor??  

Slotennisguy 40M
37 posts
6/23/2006 5:33 pm

Last Read:
9/19/2013 9:10 pm

Am I a survivor??

So I know its been awhile since I’ve written a blog in this crazy rollercoaster of a place we called cyberspace and the world. Sort of to rephrase the LSD guru Leary, ‘tune in, tune on, and check out’. I’ve been checking out a lot. Checking out places to live and to move to. Checking out this crazy site and all its drama that goes with it. Checking out a new marketing plan, new roads to explore, new venues to enlighten my interest. In a nutshell, I’ve been checking out a lot of things in this place and within my own crazy life.

See, not everyone was born with perfect parents. Certainly some are better than others as most of you know. Some of you got the worse of the lot, some of you won the genetic lottery, and some of you, you wondered what happened to what your thought were your idols. I’ve read around and saw great strength in some of you and am admired and in awe of you because you were what I call survivors. People with extraordinarily difficult circumstances and rose above it all, scared, battered, bruised and broken, yet overcame and triumphed in your own ways. I am in awe of you folks. I don’t know were you got the inner drive to succeed, and overcome.

And I sit back, in my own little hole of cyberspace listening to Black Label Societies “Suicide Messiah” going deep into in my psyche and wondered, am I worthy of being here with you all. For those who don’t know, the song ‘Suicide Messiah’ is about Scott Weyland of Stone Temple Pilots and his triumph over drug addiction. He had and fought through many demons. He was successful and had it taken away, only to triumph again with Velvet Revolver. Weyland is a survivor.

A fellow blogger, BarbieBunny is also a survivor. For those who read her heart-wrenching story, one knows she is a survivor. While I do know her in real life, I am in constant awe and amazement of the things she does and triumphs she conquers everyday. She is an extraordinarily exceptional person.

I’ve met others from this place. Each with a tragic story to tell, each struggled, overcame and triumphed. For those who truly know me, know I keep my private life tighter than the gold reserves at Ft. Knox. See, I always view those who emoted their problems to the world as those needing desperate attention, instead of what it really was, a cry for help, or a cathartic way to release the demons that have plagued them for so long. I can admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong in thinking this way.

I have nightmares all the time of events in the past that I thought I had buried forever never to seen the light of day again. I did not have the perfect upbringing that most people believed I did. Truth is, I came a hyper-violent family that would smile in public, do and say all the right things for other people and put on the Leave it to Beaver front, but at home was a war-zone. It was worse because it was a military family and we moved around a lot.

Most people’s earliest known memory is a happy one, mine is far from it. My earliest memory was when I was 3, living somewhere in Europe and getting hit and kicked so hard I flew against the wall. I remember that wall. The tall, dark and imposing, two-toned in color and with it an imprint of my head all because my dad had a bad day in the regimented military lifestyle. Honor, courage, discipline… ass!

That’s all I really know of my father, a hyper-violent self-serving pain the babyboomer ass. His mother is an alcoholic, his father was just like him so that is all he knew how to be. Yet, while he could have been better, he chose the easy pathetic way, emulating what he hated the most. He became him. I don’t really talk about him much, because all it does is bring nothing but painful memories.

In 2000, he got sick and I came back to help. I don’t know why I did, I should have left him to rot. But none the less, I left my job on the police force and traveled cross-country to see someone I hope got better mentally. Yet, he never did. He still was always trying to cause trouble. Its alittle different when the child grows up and can physically take you now. Its alittle different when he does it for a living, yet there are other ways to scar and wound. He got better and that was that until later, when I found out the horrible truth.

I found out, that the devil himself royally fucked up, had an affair with another man and contracted HIV. That he was a closest gay man, in the military, that totally hated everything, everyone and himself. For several years he kept his illness in secret, doing what he always had done, putting others at risk, just because he didn’t care.

When he told me, I wanted to kill him on the spot but then I thought, that would be too easy for him. I actually wanted him to suffer like I had been doing, and still do to this day. Even today, he is still non-shalant about it, intentionally putting others in harms way. I’ve threaten to call the Public Health Department more than once, but still I see a dead man checking out, and I’m trying not to feel or care anymore. Why should I have to be the nice one and get used and abused all over again. Even today he still hasn’t changed, still causing others problems, still blaming others for his own behavior, still being a babyboomer fucking asshole.

A fucking hate babyboomers…

My mom of course looked the otherway the entire time during all this carnage, all this abuse, all this turmoil. She may look all innocent, but far from it. She just wanted out of her own personal hell growing up and once she did, nothing was going to ruin that for her. Not even me. They are still together, and I don’t know why, nor do I even care anymore. Once in while a problem flares up that tries to get me involved or pinned on me, and for the most part, like Teflon, has bounced off. But what a horrible reason to a child in the first place. To blame all the problems on them instead of looking in their own mirror. She is no innocent…and inaction is just as bad as the action itself.

Truth be told, every step of the way, they have conspired against me. I’m the dirty little bastard secret. Pretty sad when mom goes to the wedding 7 months pregnant, and being good little religious types…yeah you get it. Occasionally, they try to bribe me off. And like a dirty prostitute, I take it. I take the guilt money (if they feel any guilt at all) and try to make some good come from it. I hate the both of them, I really do. I wish they never existed. Its harsh, and cold, and unlike me, I know. Believe me, I know. I wage an inner war everyday with myself over this.

Even in relationships, it didn’t far much better. I was the universal punching bag for everyone’s problems, because they could not deal nor cope with reality. For the longest time I lied about the scar on my chin. I said I got it while working the beat. I didn’t. I got it from an ex-gf who, much like my father, couldn’t control her temper and lost control. I remember getting hit with everything you could find. Sprinkler, garden hose, frying pan, a chair, even a nightstick, but the scar came from a lucky throw of a 1-pound candle aimed directly at my face. It hit, and my face exploded with blood everywhere. The walls, the bed, the dresser, everywhere. It didn’t hurt though because at that point I lost feeling for just about damn near everything.

I went to the ER, lied to the doctor. Its times like this, and being in law-enforcement at one time, I hated everything because the courts, the judge, jury all would have sided with her if I layed one-single finger back to defend myself. It was even harder because I was contemplating going back into law enforcement as well. You can imagine how that would have look to a background investigator.

Everything I’ve gotten in this world, I’ve bled for it.

My parents are assholes and I’m about ready to kick them out of my life once and for all, friends come and go like the tide, and only until a year ago, did I truly find happiness in someone, who I came to admire, respect, and love.

She showed me to was ok to be me, my messed up self with a lot of personal demons…..because she loves me for me…and for that I thank you more than ever could.

So this is me…a physical, mental , emotional, possible sexual abuse survivor….so, the question is, do I belong here…a survivor like all of you…


"I'm free as a bird...wild as the wind...and their is no way I'm going to let you win...." - Shirley Manson, Garbage

barbiebunny 37F
5597 posts
6/23/2006 5:49 pm

(muaah...of course u belong here silly)
I need you

Its good to be...ME

Become a member to create a blog