* bows respectfully *
Witnessed an allegedly God fearing, god loving Christian and totally sane, likable long haul truck driver with alcoholism. He became viciously sadistic and fully insane when gripped by alcohol, drugs on his weekends home. Not only did he attack me physically, there was a lot of psychological abuse. He attacked mom sexually, physically otherwise, psychologically.
One of the things he would do psychologically with me, I later learned is a method called gas lighting. He would deliberately go into
his shed, gather up a bunch of hand tools. Then, he would scatter them around outside. I would be the one accused of leaving
his tools lay around. He would also break things and kick me for it, sometimes quite literally. He would tell me how much lower in worth to shit I was, or ever would become.
Asa five year old boy, like most five year old boys, I grew through shoes fairly rapidly. I walked and bent my toes as I stepped. This is how people walk naturally, properly. He told me that if I continued walking that way, he would break my legs so he didn't have to keep buying me shoes, rather spend the $10 on booze or dope. I took time in life to
grow up and it was not all due to him, not all due to KS. I just took time, I had to learn and always do things the hardest way. I am my mom's "show me" boy, show me exactly how you want it done, I'll do it that exact way from now until time's end.
So, finally at age twenty I decided that since nearly all of the male family members had served, it was my duty too. I enlisted in the Navy because I enjoyed the idea of welding and it seemed that branch offered plenty of welding. I had taken welding in high school and enjoyed it for so many different reasons.
When I got into basic, met my company commander. I kept getting
out of step as we drilled. This company commander took me aside, asked me to march for him in place, then to go so far, come back. He watched my steps, stride.
"My daddy threatened to break my legs too," he said in a leaned in whisper. "Now, fucking bend your damn toes sailor, or I'll shove patent so far you'll need a dentist," he shouted next. It jarred me to the reality. I survived fifteen to seventeen years by shutting everything off, by placating someone who was insane. I had no will for myself, until that company commander told me he faced the same thing. He caught up later and apologized for the shouting, despite that being normal course to a degree for the training. His reasoning was that I needed a big brother type to
smack me out of the bog. It did, and then I went to another by
snapping to.
I may have been a good sailor, soldier. That was not meant to be though. Each day, I struggle, too. Seen a monster in both cases. I've even looked down a loaded gun barrel and just dared for them to fire. So, yes, have some sense that if I
let go there's a monster inside. As much as I remain vigilant for peace, a lot of strife inward lies.
But you and me, momma, we don't let this kind of shit be excuses.
No, we keep on going because we know the best way is through, over, under, around and day by day. That is what I meant by excuses earlier too. Some let shit become an excuse. I just say fuck that shit, try to figure something else out, keep on keeping on. Believe it was Churchill, "Going through Hell? Keep going!" If I knew another way, I'd take it. The only other way I see is fear, excuses and those don't fit me to good. Fear, fears me. *chuckles*
((((( HUGS )))))
I did not get to writing draft today. Not an excuse, I am desiring the synopsis to be damn good. it is like a sales cover sheet when you query agents/publishers. Have reaches out to some help. They did not respond today. I am dragging heels to write draft/product to polish sales. I think this is kind of required. Yes, i know it sounds like an excuse. But, but, but ... Would that it were, I'd belch it back out.