Its been a little while. Ive been incredibly busy; work, school, kiddos, all that jazz. So yeah, memories.
Umm as I said I dont remember a lot of stuff from my childhood and I really dont want to dwell on it. I simply want to convey that I dealt with some difficult shit. Now I dont think that I had the worst childhood ever but either way it sucked. Not sure how you would measure that anyway but... Anywho. I want to move a little further along and talk about memories from when I was a little older. Ill give three and I think these three are a great snap shot of what I dealt with.
Number 1. I was about 15 Id say. I was in the kitchen one day with my mom and some friends of hers or neighbors, not sure who. We were all talking, about what I have no idea, but apparently I said something to upset my mom and she just got up and slapped me across the face. It hurt/stung but what really hurt was the embarrassment and humiliation of being smacked in the face in front of everyone.
Number 2, I was 18 and playing in a band with friends, it was going well. But more importantly, it was fun. And I was telling my mom about it and she says well... youre never going anywhere with that band....now Im sure to her she was just trying to get me to be realistic and not chase the dream of being a rock star, whatever the hell that means. But yeah didnt come across that way.
Lastly, and perhaps most insightful, is when I was 19. I had decided that I was pretty sure that I was definitely, probably, thinking about joining the Navy. So from work one night I called my dad and said I wanted to talk to him about it. See my father was in the Navy and his father and my mom's father and my uncle. So there was a tradition I suppose. Anyway I figured the right person to ask was my dad. At that time I worked 6pm to 6am, in a wire cloth factory, great times and yes Im being sarcastic. My Dad said come over to the house in the morning and we will talk. I got to my parents around 7am. I walk in the door...ehh wait. let me back up a bit. My Dad got kicked out of the Navy. Never was clear why, but he was and he spent some time in the brig (prison). Back to the story. I walked in the door and my mom says. "The Navy, pffft, youll end up in the brig like your father......
So when my dad died.. I was fucking ANGRY at the world, and was generally not, being a nice person to those around me. I decided I needed to get help. I needed to have someone help me deal with this. The one person that supported and loved me no matter what was gone. I would not be where I am without him and he was gone and I was fucking angry and hurting and I had no fucking idea how to deal with it. I knew that someone out there did know though. So that is why I began my journey into therapy. It was one of the best/smartest things Ive ever done.
Thats it for now. Thank you all so much for reading. I honestly am not doing this for sympathy so if you think that, fuck off. Im doing it because it feels good to get it out. To try and put it into some kind of perspective or something. I just dont want to keep it in and maybe just maybe, it will help someone else.