Ok this is going to be a very long post but its time i wrote this all down. Please note that human memory is crap, i will do my best to write things accurately as i can.
So my mother had 2 daughters from her first marriage who are significantly older then me. Her husband left her, turns out he was transgender and went through the surgery etc. She would keep full custody of them. My mother would then marry my biological dad. They are devoutly religious Christians. They would end up being classified as charismatic Christians for those of you know know the nuances of the different denominations. Both me and my half sisters were homeschooled and we lived pretty far out in the country. Nearest house was a 1/4 mile away.
First time some one tried to kill me. It was Christmas eve and we were spending it with the extended family. My aunt and uncle had moved back from Honduras and were the hosts of the party in their house which was a large old barn that had been converted into a house and an art studio. As small children are often do i got bored and began to wander around. My aunt ended up finding me i am guessing someplace i was not supposed to be, believing i was trying to steal her art (keep in mind i am around 5) she proceeds to attack me, ultimately with a chefs knife. I am fast thankfully, and managed to evade her until her husband her the ruckus and stopped her. (a little back history that i now know, the reason why they left Honduras was because their neighbor was literately shot to pieces and they found the body. The cops refused to do anything and they fled the country. You combine that with paranoid schizophrenia you have a big problem, skip ahead a couple of decades i had to call the cops this past summer because she was threatening the neighbors kids with a knife and no one was believing the kids, accept for me because i asked about the details and it sounded like what had happened to me)
But i digress. This was the first time. 16 more times to go.
My mother got pregnant again, needless to say i was incredibly excited. I knew all to well that my 2 half sisters only kind of viewed me as family since they had each other...... I could show you the exact place i was standing when i got the news. I was at a friends house while my mother was in the hospital giving birth. My friends mom came out of the garage and proceeded to tell me that my sister had died during child birth, to which my friend started laughing and saying ha ha your sister is dead. Looking back now i realize there was no malicious intent, just a small child having an inappropriate response to distress. However me at that age did not comprehend that. It ended up turning out she strangled in her umbilical cord during birth. Just bad fucking luck. I still remember holding her body at the hospital that night.
Needless to say this was when everything really started to go to shit. My biological dad is borderline autistic, so handling emotion is not exactly his forte. My mother has borderline personality disorder. Oh and the church we were going to kicked us out because they said we were cursed by God and that's why my sister died. Things got real bad after that. My biological father became more and more violent.
To complicate things further i was having an incredibly difficult time with school. I was home schooled and was missing all the benchmarks. Finally when i was 8 i ended up getting sent to be evaluated. I found the records a few months ago when i was going through some old papers. What they ended up diagnosing me with was dyslexia, auditory processing disability, ADD, and ADHD. They crazy part was i placed in the bottom 1% for language comprehension.... well bellow where i would be considered retarded, and then on the mathematics and spacial cognition.... top 1%. Talk about a dichotomy. Needless to say i have a very very odd brain that does not process things like most people. Thankfully i did get a specialized tutor for a year. At 9.5 i finally started to be able to read. Lagging behind my pears caused allot of social issues though, especially because i was home schooled and my only real social interaction with other kids was a history co-op for the home schooled kids through out church.
Things came to another climax when i was 9. It was the middle of the summer and he was planting some trees in the yard. It was excruciatingly hot and i was protesting being forced to be out in the middle of a field in the heat. Now something to keep in mind is that i was a fairly sickly kid. I had gotten pneumonia quite a few times. Also now i know that i also get rheumatic fever, also for some odd reason my body didn't start sweating until my early 20s so i was prone to heat exhaust and stroke. He ended up getting pissed and proceeded to try to hit me over the head with a shovel. Again i am fast an agile, and really really fucking lucky. I managed to dodge a couple of times and was able to get away because i was able to slip through the electric fence and he was to large to fit between the wires so he couldn't keep on chasing me.
Looking back at this time period its just fucking insane, i remember hiding inside my dresser so he wouldn't find me. Imagine that for a second, taking your stuffed animal and hiding inside your dresser for hours so you father couldn't find you. Or the nicer option climbing high up in trees. I was a very small child so i could climb incredibly high into the canopy to the point were i was nick named george of the jungle. It was the only place i felt safe and at peace, swaying back and forth way up high away from where any adult could get to me.
One of my odd traits is how truthful i am. When i was a kid i was literally incapable of lying. And when you have psychotic parents not being able to lie is a big fucking problem. If memory serves me right that same summer as the shovel incident the extended family on my moms side rented a house for a family reunion. A bunch of my cousins and my uncle ended up going to a local amusement park where he ended up buying me a cap gun rifle. When we got back to the house i was excited to show my dad. Finesse is not something he posses. While looking at he started to admire how well it was made and started to flex in to show how well it was made until something inside snapped very loudly. Me being a kid i immediately told him he broke it and to stop. Now keep this in mind that this is in front of the entire family. Everyone heard it break. He starts to demand that i say that he didn't break it. At this age i was still incapable of lying and couldn't. He proceeded to beat me so badly i couldn't sit without being in pain for weeks. My family. They. Did. Nothing.
My half sisters moved out the house very shortly after this.
Things started to get worse and worse. Finally at 11 i convinced my mother to run away. I knew it was just a matter of time until we ended up dead. Again its one of those things looking back i am just like WHAT THE FUCK, WHY AT 11 WAS I THE ONE PACKING THE HOUSE UP, I LITERALLY MOVED US WITH THE EXCEPTION OF DRIVING THE GOD DAMN VAN. Now up until this point i wouldn't say i had a good or bad relationship with my mother. The only relationship i had with her was that of someone who also had survived the same abuser. Well shit was about to get real, because surprise surprise. Shit wasn't quite that simple.
Right after we moved out she ended up taking a month long trip to Europe. Yep you heard that right i said SHE, not WE. I was left to handle things on my own. For a month i had to convince friends parents to let me stay with them, to feed me, to drive me to another friends house when i had overstayed my welcome. I WAS FUCKING 11.
When she came back she moved us in with my grandparents for the winter. Please cue complete failure by mental health professionals episode 1. I got court mandated therapy. Not many people i still hate, but fuck that guy. I remember him giving me a story he wanted me to write the ending to. It was about a knight who went of to war for many years and when he finally returned he kept on wearing his armor, but now he wasn't at war anymore and it was starting to rust and restrict his movements. Needles to say he was trying to get me to be vulnerable with the people around me because he believed i was safe now. Dumb fucking idiot. While i might have not known it on an intellectual level, some where i apparently knew that that was not the case. That brings use to attempts 3, 4, 5, .......
You know those memories you look back on when you get older and your jaw just hits the floor and your like holy fuck that was not normal. For me normal was always paying attention to my mother driving, making sure she didn't fall asleep at the wheel and you know..... like drive off a bridge. Except it was only ever bridges.... I know of at least 3 times where she tried to commit murder suicide by driving us off a bridge. I grabbed the wheel and kept us on the road. Imagine having that responsibility at 11. Turns out my mother blamed my dad for my sister dying, and once he was out of the picture, guess who she blamed? His son!
That following school year she would move us to Baltimore, because you know like, who doesn't dream of moving to the 2nd deadliest city (at the time it was). Soooo super religious kid who has been home schooled his whole life, gets dropped into public schools in Baltimore for 8th grade. Brilliant right?????
Yeah that didn't go very well.
Oh but being in public school i did get to find out i was blind without glasses. I remember my teacher being like you cant see the chalk board and me being dumbfounded other kids could. Jeaz expecting parents to do there job, come on why would you expect that?
Though every once in a while my poor excuse of a mother would do something right half of purpose half on accident. Cue my adopted dad. For clarity his is not legally my adopted dad nor was he ever with my mother. So the gist of how this started was my mother was working in food and bev and she commented on something my adopted dad was wearing and he mentioned he had his own engineering and manufacturing company and she told him about me and how i loved building things. He told her to bring me by sometime, he had had a couple of apprentices before me but they all dropped out.
Again one of those moments looking back where you go WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING but this one worked out for me. So my adopted dad has a separate building on his property where he build most of the prototypes for his company. My mother brought me over and i spent to the day with him. Looking back at it what were you thinking leaving a 12 year old with a man you have only met once with no other supervision and no knowledge that he was safe. Luckily he would be my safety line. Needless to say we bonded like well father and son.
That was the only time my mother dropped me off at his house. She had better things to do like date abusive men. So my adopted dad would come a pick me up for the day on allot of weekends. Without him there is no question i would be dead. For a long time i would just call him my uncle but eventually that would change. He was the one who helped me by starting me to questions my religious beliefs, how to drive a car, how to not get a girl pregnant, how to cook, how to sew, i will never be able to thank him enough. There were so many warning signs back then, looking back i can't help but say how the fuck did no one actually do anything. The only one who did was my adopted dad but the actually professionals didn't do God damn shit. I remember a friends parent getting mad at me because i had to leave before i was able to eat dinner with them and asked for a plate to go of food. Like WHAT THE FUCK IF A KID MAKES A BIG DEAL OUT OF GETTING FOOD TO GO ITS PROBABLY BECAUSE THERE ISN'T FOOD AT HOME YOU IDIOT. But no i was the selfish child who was just using them, yeah using them to not die.
Those 3 years in Baltimore were a crazy combination of hell and little moments with my adopted dad that kept me going. My mother would become more and more abusive. The whiplash was the worst, one moment i would be the best son any mother could wish for, the next moment she would be screaming at me how i was just like my father, about how lazy i was, about how terrible i was, about how the Christmas tree falling over and breaking ornaments was my fault (i had warned it would too, idiot) Things were bad, there would be several more attempts on my life.
And then comes my step dad. Imagine all the worst stereotypes of step dads, yeah that's probably him. I remember him after meeting my cousin back at my house saying house disrespectful he was, keep in my mind my cousin was 7 years younger then me. He started talking about how he should have hit him and that if he talked to him that way again he would. Keep in mind that this is a 50 year old man talking about a little kid. Needless to say i told him to shut the fuck up and if he said another word i would kill him...... so like the religious nut job my mother was she proceeded to try to cast the devil out of me. Apparently laughing is the wrong reaction to have when someone tries to cast the devil out of you...... ooops.
So then they get engaged.... literally the worst boyfriend out of a dozen, yep that one, marry that one. But we won't move, she promises, keep in mind at this point i have gone to a different school every single years since 8th grade. And i have my adopted dad here in Baltimore. Yeah that was bullshit. Off to Denver we go.
Denver was complicated, though i guess that has been my entire life so why should that surprise me now. For the first time i went to a decent school, WE HAD A/C! OH and books that weren't falling apart, oh and no one was burning the trash cans in the bathroom, oh and no one tried to kill me on the way home from school, plus!
It was hear that i started to shine in academics, who knew having some decent support at school makes a big differences. I would end up as the copy editor of my high school newspaper, in almost all A.P. classes, going to University of Colorado part time during my senior year, part of the sci tech team as a junior which was exclusive to seniors (and i beat them on most of the projects too) and i earned my self a full ride scholarship!
I was almost out of hell, i only had a few months left and then i would be free! Now a little bit of past context, since we left my father he would send me letters, lots of them. No response from me but he would for years. At around 15 i started talking to him again. He had gotten medicated, he had found a therapist, he was consistent about seeing her. We started to build a friendship. Christmas rolls around senior year and i fly back to the east coast to spend it with family. When i get back to Denver my mother and step father confront me about how they "accidentally" found my journal while cleaning my room. (it was clean and they didn't clean anything, just being themselves)
Unfortunately i had written the truth. Which is to say i had written how tragic it was that my mother had married another abusive asshole. (also for perspective my step dad has a daughter who he lost all custody rights to her mother when she ran away, also his older brother as well as a few other family members confronted him about how he treated me) They confronted me about what i had written, and well there is not much to say in this situation. My step dad got more and more agitated and finally he starts poking me in the chest while yelling, keep in mind he is standing up and i am sitting in a chair. Finally i ball my fists up still sitting and tell him to back off and he keeps on screaming. Keep in mind at this point i finally went through my growth spurt, i went from 5'6" to 6' in a year and a half. My step dad was around 5'6". I knew how it would look if i got in a fight with him. Step son beats up short step dad. Yeah, i would get blamed. So i start to call the cops, i just have a few months left, i just need to be left alone. He slaps the phone out of my hand so i walk out of the house.
I had some good friends who lived near by. I went to school with their daughter and the father was a pastor and we spent many a night talking philosophical discussions. When i got there i ask my friends dad to use the phone to call the cops, he told me that my mom had called and had told him to not let me use the phone. (Again looking back WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU GOD DAMN IDIOTS) so i bail because there is no help there. I walk a mile to my schools librarians house who i was friends with as well as her kids (same age as me) when i show up they were just sitting down for dinner. I tell them what happened and they convince me to sit down with them for dinner and calm down and that they will help me sort it out afterwards. Looking back this was the wrong decision but they were genuinely trying to do what was best for me and cared far more than almost anyone else in my life.
I have dinner with them and right at the end of it there is a knock at the door. Turns out my mother and step father had called the cops and told them that i had run away from home. My friends family make a big fuss while talking to the cops about everything but in the end the cops take me back to my house. My friends dad who was a pastor had come over while i was gone or right after i got back with the cops. He promised to act as a mediator so the police left. We ended up agreeing that i should move back in with my biological dad. Everyone goes to bed, i wake up sunday morning and no one is in the house except for me, needless to say i am worried about my mother because of my step fathers history of violence. I go to school monday and meet with my school counselor and tell her everything that had happened. She tells me that for the police to do anything the person has to be missing for atleast 48 hours so if at the end of tomorrow i haven't heard from her the next morning my counselor would help me deal with the police.
Monday goes by and nothing, wake up tuesday and still nothing. I come home from school and no one is home, so i go to my librarians house and have dinner with them. When i go home there is several dozen cops there at my house. Needless to say i am a little freaked out, but also i am used to having family members and strangers try to kill me..... cops immediately bring me into the living room and proceed to interrogated me for SEVEN FUCKING HOURS. From 6 p.m. until 1 a.m. Now at this point in my life i still believed in the police, i believed in our justice system, i believed that people cared about the truth. I would be arrested that night and taken to a high security prison. No charges filed, didn't even read me my rights....... but the arresting officer did cuss me out. Told me if his daughter ever balled her fist at him he would have taken her to the floor (i just remembering thing what the fuck is wrong with this guy)
Over the next couple of weeks i would end up finding out a couple crucial pieces of information. First my step dad had been walked off the jobsite for yelling at a customer, 2nd they were living off my child support, and 3rdly they had been pocketing several hundred dollars a month my dad was giving them to buy me health insurance. If i moved back in with my biological dad they would loose my child support, loose the money they had been stealing for my health insurance, and my dad would find out about it. So instead they went to the cops and told them that i was building a bomb and planing on blowing up my high school.
In every meaning of the word that matters they sold me. Like what person with a full ride scholarship, freedom ahead of them, would do shit like that. NO ONE! I worked my god damn ass off to get out of there. What do i get. HEY WELCOME TO PRISON.
Cue someone trying to kill me again. Yay prison.
The most fucked shit about all of this is the people who were supposed to be on my side or their for me were utterly worthless. Guardian ad litem, worthless. Public defender, worthless. Pre trial release officer who was supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow and nail me if i screwed up? Nope he became my biggest advocate..... right behind the judge. Ended up finding out that it was election year and the d.a. thought i would be her golden ticket for re election. The terrorist she caught! (oh and may i point out she went under numerous ethic investigations, though of course nothing happened, what a shocker)
I would plead guilty a year later for...... wait for it.... possession of fireworks..... which my mother had purchased when we lived in P.A. and i might add they never left the property but you know a public defender.... actually defending..... good fucking luck on that one. Mandatory 2 years of probation but my judge was the shit and counted since the day i was arrested as time already served and that knocked it down to one year. You should have seen the D.A. you would have thought she had an aneurysm.
It was during this time that my PTSD would finally come home. Honesty its a fucking miracle i made it that long without it. When you have it, it changes you to the very essence of your being. I can't say for sure, but when you meet someone else who has it. You know almost instantly. Its all the little cues that tell you. When you experience flash backs.... just fuck.
A couple of months after the trial ended i said i am out and moved back to the east coast. That following spring (still 18) i would meet my ex wife. Unfortunately we are often attracted to those who are like our parents. In this case my ex has BPD. She is probably one of the if not the most brilliant women i have ever met. When she was stable she was incredible. I guess this goes along with not being able to lie (thank God i picked up the skill finally around 16 or 17 but that core is still me) when i married her i meant for better or worse. Problem was when she was not stable. It was bad, very very very bad. I remember her screaming at me for asking to talk to her (and i mean like talk about whats for dinner, or just hey lets talk about that trip or etc. According to her that was me being abusive. I remember the night she took a knife to her own throat. I have never have been more terrified in my life. I remember trying to calm her down, of slowly trying to de-escalate the situation. Of finally being close enough to take the knife from her, and of her then trying to stab me with it. Thankfully no one got seriously hurt and i was able to get her into a amazing hospital. She would end up spending a month in there.
On getting out i was desperate to do anything that would help her. I knew that sunshine helped her allot. That she seemed to be much more stable with sunny weather so we ended up moving to Colorado. Now keep in mind this entire time i am working and putting her through college. Now anyone who is familiar with someone with BPD knows just how terrible an illness it is. I can tell you how many times she told me she wanted a divorce to only have her turn around and tell me how much she loved me and was so excited to see where life went with me. Everything kept on taking a toll on me until i dropped down to 117 lbs at 6'. And then life intervened. I was out walking at the lake with my friend and his dog when we heard screaming. We looked down the hill and saw that a little girl, 6 or 7 had been playing out on the ice in the middle of the lake with her sister and had fallen through the ice. My buddy had just broken both his wrists so there was nothing he could do. So i proceeded to try to slide out on the ice on my stomach to the kid. I made it maybe 10 ft before i went through the ice.
I still have the scars on my arms, there was a kid, there was ice in the way, fuck. that. god. damn. ice. Using my forearms i broke the ice in front of me for a couple of hundred ft until i got to her and brought her back. Those last 30ft i was dying. I remember being so scared that i wasn't going to be able to get her out of there. I switch from pulling her behind me to pushing her in front of me so if i went under i wouldn't be in the way and she would have a better chance. Somehow i managed to endure. Honestly i couldn't tell you what she looked like, only that her hair was black and that her family was from the middle east. I will never forget the sounds of her father saying thank you, of her mother crying and holding her daughter. And me being the usual me i told them to get her out of the wet clothes and dry and warm and i bailed. Because well hypothermia is a bitch.
That little girl saved my life every bit as much as i saved hers. Up until then i took the abuse, i didn't think i deserved it, but also i didn't think i deserved better. Needless to say things ended with the ex wife. I will continue once i have the emotional energy to finish the story. If you made it here, thank you. Life has been getting me down lately and i need to get all of this out and off my chest.
Submitted March 12, 2019 at 05:56AM by AJewforBacon https://ift.tt/2NXd5ZC
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