Life is a Journey of Self
[media=https://youtu.be/amv_UyY8tuQ]
It’s my story to tell, and I dare anyone to refure it. I dare anybody to present thier own facts of these events.
C’mon ! ? !
Like I cant handle more blame, shame, and guilt!
After all these years of it no matter what I did for anyone …
I hear the silence.
I know the truths.
All my sins and all the unearned shame.
I hear it and I feel it.
I acknowledge every instance of every little tiny fucked up piece of it.
I can’t bring myself to ignore any of it and perhaps that’s why I am as fucked up as you people say I am?
Early 70's ~ A drunk dad that punched me square in the face and knocked my ass out because I dared to step in and ask him not to hit my mom.
Mid 70's ~ A mom that walked out of a courtroom after securing custody of all her kids and then leaving me and my brother behind as she walked away within our eyesight with all of the girls in her arms. Not even a goodbye or a second glance
NXT 2 YRS / THE FOSTER CARE YEARS ~ Abuse, Belittlement, Abandonment. And through all of that me trying to protect my brother from anything I could that would affect him. All in the paycheck to house a discarded child system of those days where kids like us just didn't matter more than the money we provided to people that never used any of that money to help us or make us happy.
The 80's in Nutshell~ Prolific childhood traumas, and a sense of resentment from the sisters for the reunification I forced by repeated runaways and the corroboration of my abuse accounts to authorities..
A decade of never fitting in and constant accusations. A sister and her boyfriend conning me out of hundreds of hard-earned dollars one year. Another sister taking me to court for an attack she instigated on me, that I was ultimately blamed for.
A brother that did what he wanted without punishment, and I was blamed for until one day some outside force forced him into special schooling and counseling.
Mid 80's ~ A bunch of random people coming at me because I wasn't like they were. Because I didn't understand what normal dynamics without trauma looked like. Kids and parents staring at me like I was a fucking target, But I refused to be a target, and I forged myself into a fucking weapon.
And by the end of 1986, nobody at all picked on me without repercussions.
But by then the world was all fucked up for me, and I was 1 year away from getting a girl pregnant. The rest of it's all history and even that history wasn't all that kind to a young man, left alone, with no guidance or support of any kind.
But I did my fucking best.
And that's the easiest stuff from my story to tell...
But yeah..., I'm almost 56 years old now and I should have done better with myself and the things I had to weather. I should have found better ways to think and found all the ways I should feel better.
And I understand it now that it's all ever always been my fault for not figuring out any of this shit and finding myself in the place, I find myself in now. For not figuring out how to deal with any of it or correct myself or communicate my fucking feelings better to the people that blamed me for everything.
Because after all..., I'm an adult and that shit is my shit now.
And don't worry. I don't blame anyone for anything.
It's all my fault and I should have been better and stronger and more resolute over all those years.
Maybe it's my genes?
More likely it just all my fault!
It's all my story.
All my fault.
I take all that blame that I bestow upon me now.
I'll figure it all out before the not-too-distant end.
I fucking hate this world and I fucking hate myself for not figuring out what my story would tell. I hate my God and hate every saint, for never protecting me from the taint. Of a world that's on fire and a land that is sinking below all the waves of these dark thoughts I'm thinking. And I'd like to just stand up and flash the whole world a quick smile. But the truth isn't proof and I'm just here for a while.
It’s my story to tell, and I dare anyone to refure it. I dare anybody to present thier own facts of these events.
C’mon ! ? !
Like I cant handle more blame, shame, and guilt!
After all these years of it no matter what I did for anyone …
I hear the silence.
I know the truths.
All my sins and all the unearned shame.
I hear it and I feel it.
I acknowledge every instance of every little tiny fucked up piece of it.
I can’t bring myself to ignore any of it and perhaps that’s why I am as fucked up as you people say I am?
Early 70's ~ A drunk dad that punched me square in the face and knocked my ass out because I dared to step in and ask him not to hit my mom.
Mid 70's ~ A mom that walked out of a courtroom after securing custody of all her kids and then leaving me and my brother behind as she walked away within our eyesight with all of the girls in her arms. Not even a goodbye or a second glance
NXT 2 YRS / THE FOSTER CARE YEARS ~ Abuse, Belittlement, Abandonment. And through all of that me trying to protect my brother from anything I could that would affect him. All in the paycheck to house a discarded child system of those days where kids like us just didn't matter more than the money we provided to people that never used any of that money to help us or make us happy.
The 80's in Nutshell~ Prolific childhood traumas, and a sense of resentment from the sisters for the reunification I forced by repeated runaways and the corroboration of my abuse accounts to authorities..
A decade of never fitting in and constant accusations. A sister and her boyfriend conning me out of hundreds of hard-earned dollars one year. Another sister taking me to court for an attack she instigated on me, that I was ultimately blamed for.
A brother that did what he wanted without punishment, and I was blamed for until one day some outside force forced him into special schooling and counseling.
Mid 80's ~ A bunch of random people coming at me because I wasn't like they were. Because I didn't understand what normal dynamics without trauma looked like. Kids and parents staring at me like I was a fucking target, But I refused to be a target, and I forged myself into a fucking weapon.
And by the end of 1986, nobody at all picked on me without repercussions.
But by then the world was all fucked up for me, and I was 1 year away from getting a girl pregnant. The rest of it's all history and even that history wasn't all that kind to a young man, left alone, with no guidance or support of any kind.
But I did my fucking best.
And that's the easiest stuff from my story to tell...
But yeah..., I'm almost 56 years old now and I should have done better with myself and the things I had to weather. I should have found better ways to think and found all the ways I should feel better.
And I understand it now that it's all ever always been my fault for not figuring out any of this shit and finding myself in the place, I find myself in now. For not figuring out how to deal with any of it or correct myself or communicate my fucking feelings better to the people that blamed me for everything.
Because after all..., I'm an adult and that shit is my shit now.
And don't worry. I don't blame anyone for anything.
It's all my fault and I should have been better and stronger and more resolute over all those years.
Maybe it's my genes?
More likely it just all my fault!
It's all my story.
All my fault.
I take all that blame that I bestow upon me now.
I'll figure it all out before the not-too-distant end.
I fucking hate this world and I fucking hate myself for not figuring out what my story would tell. I hate my God and hate every saint, for never protecting me from the taint. Of a world that's on fire and a land that is sinking below all the waves of these dark thoughts I'm thinking. And I'd like to just stand up and flash the whole world a quick smile. But the truth isn't proof and I'm just here for a while.
51-55, M