I first want to thank everyone that has helped me throughout my life. My journey has been a turbulent one. I still have a ways to go. Each day is a learning experience for me. I use my writing to tell my story. One thing I have learned is that living in fear and doubt is not living at all. I write from my heart and soul. Thank you for reading this very personal story.
I was always a kids kid, caring, and worrying about nothing except playing with my friends, Saturday morning cartoons, my birthday, and what I was getting for Christmas. My mother struggled a bit after she divorced my father, but her struggle made me a stronger person. I know that now. Eventually, my mother remarried, and gave birth to my younger brother. I called myself taking care of him. I was a big brother, and demanded my mother teach me how to change his diapers, feed him his food, and let him sleep in my room with me.
I can remember one day, my mother went downstairs to get the mail, and to speak to a friend. I decided that my brother needed his hair combed. He was a little guy, so his hair was on no ones mind but my own. I combed his hair, and must have used almost a whole container of hair grease to slick it back. My mother came back upstairs and had no choice but to look at me and laugh. She caught me with the comb in my hand, and the container of hair grease in the other. I was sure I'd be in trouble with her for that, but I wasn't. All she said was that she didn't see me being a hairstylist in the future. When my step dad got home, I remember my mother telling him the story at the dinner table, but he sat there with this blank look on his face. I guess he didn't see any humor in it.
I was always on a tight schedule, having to be in bed by 8:00 PM. My room was next to theirs, our apartment wasn't that big, but we made it work. My brother didn't sleep in my room that night, he was cranky, and didn't want to go to sleep. I was out for the count, my mother tells me to this day that I started snoring at a young age. I woke up, having to use the bathroom, did so and went right back to bed. My step dad went right after me to the bathroom as well. When he was done, he came into my room and called my name. "Patrick, Patrick are you asleep?" I told him no, I just finished using the bathroom. He told me that he wanted to show me something, and I that couldn't tell anyone. I said ok, what is it? He took off his pajamas, and got in my bed with me. He wanted me to touch him, he told me that I have the same thing he had, and wanted me to touch his. I told him no, I guess I was too loud, and was told to keep quiet. He got on top of me, and as he did, something must have spooked him, and he jumped off the bed. My mother came and stood in the doorway and asked him what he was doing. He said "nothing, just checking up on Patrick." They both left, and went back to bed.
I just laid there, not really understanding what was going at that moment, but I was upset, I was mad. I remember replaying what happened over and over in my head. I then knew what happened, but didn't know how to put into words. I internalized what happened. I decided not to say anything to anyone. I was told I couldn't. All I thought about was my mother. If I said something, she would have to struggle again, and I didn't want her to have to go through that again. So I went on as if nothing happened. I blocked out the fact that I had been abused by my step father. He took care of my mother, he took care of me, and he took care of my brother. The birthday and Christmas gifts got bigger and better, I was a kid, with not a care in the world, until now. I saw myself starting to play with my friends less and kept to myself. They would come to ring my bell and ask if I could come out and play. My mother would always ask why I didn't want to go outside. I would just tell her I didn't feel like it, or my friends and I are not friends right now, anything except what I couldn't bring myself to tell her. I used to send her messages, like hiding my underwear under my bed. I thought that if I did something weird, she would figure it out what was really wrong. I became a loner. I became mad at the world, and everyone in it. I was mad at my mother because she should have came in that room 10 seconds sooner. I was mad at myself for being afraid to tell her. She would always tell me to tell her everything, I did tell her everything, except the abuse. Things in my life started to suffer. School was not good, I stopped speaking to my friends, and I stopped speaking to my family. All I had was me and the cat that I found outside.
It's 19 years later. I'm all grown up now. It was 19 years later that I told my mother. One day she said to me "Patrick, what is wrong with you?" I still couldn't tell her, so I wrote it down and left, because my step dad was in the house, and I didn't want him to hear anything. That moment, everything changed. My mother confronted my step dad. He initially denied everything. That sent me in a rage, but at the same time, I was able to take a huge weight off my chest by telling my mother. It answered so many questions she had. All the little weird things I did made perfect sense to her. I was walking down a never ending road before I told her. Finally letting her know opened up many other doors for me. I finally got the much needed help I needed. I was able to put things into perspective, I was able to start putting my life in some type of working order. That never ending road now had a stop sign. I learned that keeping things inside would just make me rot away. The negative energy was something I started to put out of my life. That was the toughest, lowest point in my life. I went through so much to get where I am today. I learned to be a better person, being mad at everything, and everyone was not the way to live. I couldn't allow the abuse to put the choke hold on my life that it did. I had to let go of 19 years of beating myself up. I have learned to forgive my step dad, I will never forget, but I had to forgive him. Life experiences make a person who they are, and who they can become. Sometimes you have to be torn down and built back up to find success and to be at peace in life.
I was always a kids kid, caring, and worrying about nothing except playing with my friends, Saturday morning cartoons, my birthday, and what I was getting for Christmas. My mother struggled a bit after she divorced my father, but her struggle made me a stronger person. I know that now. Eventually, my mother remarried, and gave birth to my younger brother. I called myself taking care of him. I was a big brother, and demanded my mother teach me how to change his diapers, feed him his food, and let him sleep in my room with me.
I can remember one day, my mother went downstairs to get the mail, and to speak to a friend. I decided that my brother needed his hair combed. He was a little guy, so his hair was on no ones mind but my own. I combed his hair, and must have used almost a whole container of hair grease to slick it back. My mother came back upstairs and had no choice but to look at me and laugh. She caught me with the comb in my hand, and the container of hair grease in the other. I was sure I'd be in trouble with her for that, but I wasn't. All she said was that she didn't see me being a hairstylist in the future. When my step dad got home, I remember my mother telling him the story at the dinner table, but he sat there with this blank look on his face. I guess he didn't see any humor in it.
I was always on a tight schedule, having to be in bed by 8:00 PM. My room was next to theirs, our apartment wasn't that big, but we made it work. My brother didn't sleep in my room that night, he was cranky, and didn't want to go to sleep. I was out for the count, my mother tells me to this day that I started snoring at a young age. I woke up, having to use the bathroom, did so and went right back to bed. My step dad went right after me to the bathroom as well. When he was done, he came into my room and called my name. "Patrick, Patrick are you asleep?" I told him no, I just finished using the bathroom. He told me that he wanted to show me something, and I that couldn't tell anyone. I said ok, what is it? He took off his pajamas, and got in my bed with me. He wanted me to touch him, he told me that I have the same thing he had, and wanted me to touch his. I told him no, I guess I was too loud, and was told to keep quiet. He got on top of me, and as he did, something must have spooked him, and he jumped off the bed. My mother came and stood in the doorway and asked him what he was doing. He said "nothing, just checking up on Patrick." They both left, and went back to bed.
I just laid there, not really understanding what was going at that moment, but I was upset, I was mad. I remember replaying what happened over and over in my head. I then knew what happened, but didn't know how to put into words. I internalized what happened. I decided not to say anything to anyone. I was told I couldn't. All I thought about was my mother. If I said something, she would have to struggle again, and I didn't want her to have to go through that again. So I went on as if nothing happened. I blocked out the fact that I had been abused by my step father. He took care of my mother, he took care of me, and he took care of my brother. The birthday and Christmas gifts got bigger and better, I was a kid, with not a care in the world, until now. I saw myself starting to play with my friends less and kept to myself. They would come to ring my bell and ask if I could come out and play. My mother would always ask why I didn't want to go outside. I would just tell her I didn't feel like it, or my friends and I are not friends right now, anything except what I couldn't bring myself to tell her. I used to send her messages, like hiding my underwear under my bed. I thought that if I did something weird, she would figure it out what was really wrong. I became a loner. I became mad at the world, and everyone in it. I was mad at my mother because she should have came in that room 10 seconds sooner. I was mad at myself for being afraid to tell her. She would always tell me to tell her everything, I did tell her everything, except the abuse. Things in my life started to suffer. School was not good, I stopped speaking to my friends, and I stopped speaking to my family. All I had was me and the cat that I found outside.
It's 19 years later. I'm all grown up now. It was 19 years later that I told my mother. One day she said to me "Patrick, what is wrong with you?" I still couldn't tell her, so I wrote it down and left, because my step dad was in the house, and I didn't want him to hear anything. That moment, everything changed. My mother confronted my step dad. He initially denied everything. That sent me in a rage, but at the same time, I was able to take a huge weight off my chest by telling my mother. It answered so many questions she had. All the little weird things I did made perfect sense to her. I was walking down a never ending road before I told her. Finally letting her know opened up many other doors for me. I finally got the much needed help I needed. I was able to put things into perspective, I was able to start putting my life in some type of working order. That never ending road now had a stop sign. I learned that keeping things inside would just make me rot away. The negative energy was something I started to put out of my life. That was the toughest, lowest point in my life. I went through so much to get where I am today. I learned to be a better person, being mad at everything, and everyone was not the way to live. I couldn't allow the abuse to put the choke hold on my life that it did. I had to let go of 19 years of beating myself up. I have learned to forgive my step dad, I will never forget, but I had to forgive him. Life experiences make a person who they are, and who they can become. Sometimes you have to be torn down and built back up to find success and to be at peace in life.
Almost There
As I progress
As I progress
I get stressed
Clear my head, I need some rest
Time to put new innovations and ideas to the test
I see things differently now
Sitting back and observing what's going on around me
Looking, listening, taking notes
Like The Matrix, it's time to get unplugged
Connect to reality
It's not all about making a good salary
Feeling good about life is what's real
Taking control of self is the deal
Having a bad day?
The hell with it, throw it away
Burn it, boil it, bury it
Or get lost in your quest
Mission status
Be mindful
Know what's up
Check in often
Be certain of your truth
Go online, check your progress, and your power reserves
Don't run out of juice
If you crash
Get an estimate, and find out how long the repair will take
There's no telling
Can't rush perfection
Let it run its course
Keep in mind
What's good in life
Milton Bradley has his own idea
Create your own thing
Understand this is not a game
Stay focused on the objective
Don't stray from it
Keep smiling
Keep striving
For bigger and better
If you need access to other side
Let me know
I have the keys
Patrick,
ReplyDeleteI'm not really sure what to say yet, but your courage to tell this story is amazing, and the fact that you just recently felt able to tell your mother and confront your step-father is truly astounding. Many people would take this to the grave. Sadly, it happens all too often. But surely, each person's experience is truly unique - and it's all in how we react (or don't) that starts to fuel the pain of the incident. This story is sad, and I am sorry that you have had to experience this. But as this lesson portrays - these things end up shaping our character. We can't help it. They actually make us stronger, steer us in certain directions, and (hopefully) give us puprose.
It's all in how we interpret it.
Here, you tell one of the most intimate moments of your life - a devastating occurrence that greatly affected you for years - and here, by the third, raw, honest paragraph, you're already turning it into gold.
Then, your poem seals the deal. It's a great poem. Very uplifting. It's the perfect conclusion to this post - as it shows the triumph in your spirit, the artfulness of your reflection, and the resilience of yourself. You're already seeing the light at th end of the tunnel (or the stop sign at the end of that damn road!).
Truly inspiring - your story and your courage to tell it. What compelled you to open up to your mother now - 19 years later? What was the spark?
GR: 100 (effort, quality, honesty, theme)