In my mind i’m the last person that should be posting here. I guess that says alot about me, or at least who I think I am.I don’t know where to start. The beginning? makes sense… but, I fear i will just end up telling a “poor me” story, and searching for pity. A bit of empathy may not hurt, but i don’t want pity.
I guess I’ll start with an introduction, i’m sure you may have a different opinion of me than i have of myself, but this is how i see myself: I’m 36, white. male. 6’3″. About 200 lbs. People typically find me attractive. I’m not athletic, but im not “out of shape”. I’d guess i’m a good 3 month in the gym away from being pretty fit, although i don’t work out. I’m a problem solver. A salesman. A talker. Rational, for the most part. I’m long winded and i am insecure. I come across to some people as cocky or arrogant as i try to sell myself too much, from my lack of self security. I am a great lover. I love with all i have and wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m not afraid to show my emotions. I can get disappointed, but i don’t have much of a “temper”. I fight with my head and heart, not my fists. I don’t believe in physical altercations.
I’m not sure how to explain this next part. I have told my “story” to a coupleÂ people,but i realize i do it to get them to like me. See, if i tell them all the bad things i have done and have had done to me, up front, they tend not to hold these things against me. It’s very manipulative, but i justify it with the thinking that no one in their right mind would want to deal with all the issues i have had, if they just keep popping up over time. So i barrage them with it all at once and they tend to be understanding and supportive. In fact this thinking has effected every part of my life. If you have ever met that salesman that you like, but just won’t shut up, so you buy from him to stop him..thats me.
I am scared to be alone. I am scared of having an empty bed. i am scared that people won’t like me. I am scared that i will die alone. I am scared that i will live life with regrets and unfulfilled experiences. I’m scared that i will be a bad roll model for my children.
I digress. I guess i want to tell my story, and find out what i can do to change my life, if you can call it a life.
My parents were divorced when i was a baby. Depending on who you ask, i either lived with my mom for 3 months and then went to my fathers parents, or i lived with my mom and her parents until i was almost 2 years old, then i went to live with my fathers parents. (The truth? i don’t know) My earliest memories are of growing up on the farm with grandma and grandpa, dads parents. Dad was a poor father. He wasn’t around very much when i lived on the farm. I loved the farm. The freedom. Family. Fresh air and daily excitement of relatives always coming over, farm activities, etc… For me, these were the “good ole days”. They didn’t last long. When i was 8, i was informed by my cousin, on the tire swing, at a family event, that the woman my dad had just pulled up with was going to be my “new mom”. I didn’t need a mom, i had grandma. She was my mom. This lady seemed nice enough, but why wouldn’t she? I liked everyone. I was a bit concerned when i found out
this was happening in 2 weeks, but adventure was my middle name, and this was excitement. After all i was 8. Or was it 7? no, i was 8… i think.
The news that dad and “mom” were moving to Texas 1 week after the wedding was were it all started to go down hill. They were married. 1 week later WE moved from Minnesota exactly 1 million miles away, to Texas. It killed me. I lost my “parents”, no i lost my entire family. In one swift act my entire family was gone. I was horrified, it was the realization that everything i knew had just changed. The adults in my life had changed. I had new parents. I had a new state. a new school. a new house (not a house, an apartment). a new city..a BIG city.
I knew something wasn’t “right” almost immediately. One example that sticks in my mind was when i was worried that S.H.(mom) was mad at me. Before dad got home i had tried to ask for a pop or a cookie or something and S.H. wouldn’t respond. She had to hear me, she was right there. For almost an hour i tried to figure out what i had done to upset her so badly that she wouldn’t even acknowledge that i was there. Over and over i asked, in different ways “S may i have a …”, ” S, are you mad at me?” “S i’m sorry if i did something wrong”…yet nothing. When my dad got home i asked him what i had done to upset “S” so badly. It was as if i had said a foul word. He asked me what i called her, i replied “S”. This was my lesson that she wasn’t “S” she was “mom” and if i wasn’t going to call her “mom” then she wasn”t going to listen.
It seemed as if rules were made until there were so many that you couldn’t help but break them. I was “walking on glass” every day, all day. I think that they didn’t feel like they were parenting unless they were telling me how i did something wrong, and to” not do it again”. If i got everything right, and boy did i try, i would find out that a new rule had been made that i had broken and that i ‘should know better”. I was “to be seen and not heard”. this was a hard one for me to follow, as i had a lot of energy and stress. We moved 3 times that first year in Texas. My baby sister was born also, that 1st year.
2 new schools.
I started having the the headaches sometime during the first 3-4 months in Texas. I don’t know if headaches is even the right word. “episodes”? My head would ache so bad that i couldn’t move. I puked, cried, and slept. They would last for a day or two usually. The morning was hard during this time because when i opened my eyes i would try not to move, as i feared that i would still have the pain. As long as i stayed still and just thought, i couldn’t tell if they were gone yet. Sometimes when i finally moved they would be gone, other times they would still be there, heartbroken i would roll over and cry, wanting the pain to stop.
At some point i was finally taken to the doctor. After all, my parents were good parents..just ask them. They gave me something, and ican’t even remember if they helped, as the “something they gave me” was worse than i could bare. All i knew was that i was “broken” and if i wanted to feel better i had to pull my pants down and let my dad or mom, push the medicine up my butt. Why they would give an 8 year old suppositories is beyond me, but apparently that was what i needed and that is what i got. I tried to hide the headaches after this. When it got to the point that i couldn’t take the pain anymore, i went through the embarrassment with the medicine. I was on a roller coaster. One day i would feel great and everything would be normal, the next i was the worst child in the world, the next day i was bed ridden with pain. How i acted wouldn’t change anything from making the day better or worse, but damn, i tried. It was “duck and cover” until you knew what mom and dad were going to be like that day.
They started setting up appointments for me to see a doc/shrink, about 6-8 months after we got to Texas. Why was i so ” up and down”, happy then sad, energetic then bed ridden? Well mom and dad knew i had to be “fixed” and they sure tried to find the doc that could fix me. The first few we went to did more harm than good, because they did their job. They told mom and dad that i was fine, that i was a normal kid, and that they should maybe think about seeing someone to assist with their issues and parenting skills..or lack there of. The back lash from this was directed squarely at me…usually across the face, back or head. I don’t remember the first time they started hitting me, but later i will tell you about the last time. Finally, after several attempts they found a doctor that would tell them what they needed to hear. I was diagnosed as hyper active and given Ritalin. I can’t tell you if it helped much, as things happened based on mom and dads attitudes, rather than the reality of my actions. They fought a lot. We all did.
About 1.5 years after we moved to Texas moms father got sick. She was an only child and came from a small, not very close, family. For me, nothing better could have happened, so i thought. Moms dad passed away and we moved back to Minnesota! Yes! I was home. But i realized 40 miles away from “the farm” changed nothing, i may as well have been in Texas still. To make matters worse, when we came back for the funeral, before moving they tried to get grandma and grandpa to let me stay with them for a month or two while they moved us back from Texas. Grandma and Grandpa said “No!!”. I was devastated. why didn’t they want me any more. Why couldn’t they see how hurt i was. Why didn’t they care? How had i became such a bad kid so fast? They tried to explain it was to hard on them, and it would make things even harder when i had to leave for a second time, when mom and dad returned from Texas. I couldn’t hear this though.
After moving back to Minnesota, i began my 4th school. I was 9. The hitting got harder. Yelling got louder. Harassment got more common, hourly rather than daily. Finally the solution was found! I was so excited, mom and dad felt warm and fuzzy about it…I was going back to the farm!.. Well not “the farm” but it may as well have been. I was going to live with my great uncle Melroy who had a farm just around the corner from grandma and grandpa and everywhere around us was my family! I was going to walk to grandma and grandpas when ever i wanted. The Aunts and uncles and cousins would be over to our place or me at their place all the time..I was again, sooo excited. That’s not exactly how things worked out. I was able to go to the same school i had went to when i was with grandma and grandpa, but i never saw them. The family never came over. I was not allowed to go see them. In the 9 months i lived with Melroy i saw Grandma and Grandpa exactly 1 time, even though they lived less than 2 miles away. That was at Christmas. Knowing that i was so close to utopia and still couldn’t have it, hurt me, however i soon realized i had bigger issues to worry about.
Melroy was a single 50-55 year old man that ran a farm. He was respected in the community. In his younger years he was the place that “troubled boys” were sent to “work it out of them”. Before half way houses, before Juvenile detention centers … they had Melroy. Melroy had a huge house, successful farm and no one but his mother living with him. (the stereotype is correct) He never married and lived with his mother his whole life. When i came along, several years after he stopped having troubled boys in, his mother was pretty ill. But, Melroy was pretty “ill” to. To this day i don’t know if i feel worse about what he did to me, or that i didn’t tell anyone for so long and maybe could have helped some of the other boys that he had hurt. Melroy was a pedophile. I was trapped in a house with a pedophile.
Sunday was the worst. He had a “sunday schedule”. It started with the day being perfect. He would be so kind when he woke me up. I would dress and go do chores with him, if i wanted to drive the tractor..it was all me. If i wanted to shoot the gun..it was all me. I was treated like a king. This part of sunday was great..even though i knew what was coming. We then would go in, eat breakfast that his mom had made..full spread..a farmers breakfast. We then dressed for church. After church we had to change out of our “sunday clothes”. His mom was always tired and had to nap as soon as we returned. Although we really didnt have to do anything, Melroy made sure we changed our clothes right away. This part of Sunday wasn’t so good. I hated how he smelled. I hated his breath. i hated him whispering how much he loved me. I hated feeling his rough spots that he had missed when he shaved. I really hated that stubble on his face. It’s kind of weird, out of all the things i hated that he did to me, i will never forget the stubble. I hated myself. I couldn’t tell anyone. Who would believe me? where would i go? back to the physical abuse and emotional abuse? i held on to the dream that grandma and grandpa would save me. They never did. After all, it was grandpas brother. My GODFATHER. How could i tell on him? How could i tell on me?
Then, everything changed again. I was told that mom and dad were coming to visit, which was very unusual. But, as i was told, they showed up. I was very happy to see them, as they were waiting at the house after we got back from church…his “sunday schedule” was ruined. Melroy was not very happy. I felt like i had just won the lottery. After a short conversation, they informed me that they were taking me home! So this ended the Melroy part of my life. well, it ended the part were i had to be molested..now i just had to deal with the memories and guilt.
Now i was on to my 6th school and away from “him”. I was ready to start making something of myself. I wasn’t going to be bad anymore, so mom and dad wouldn’t fight. I was really, really, really going to work hard at school. Sure i would mess up a bit, and mom and dad would get mad at me when they shouldn’t, but i was going to deal with those “few” instances, and give them no reason to hurt me. The headaches were gone, and at this point in my life it would have taken an army to get anything near my ass hole again. I was also getting wiser. I knew how to “duck and Cover” both physically and emotionally. It turned out that “few” wasn’t really that “few”. Most of the time i just stayed in my room or tried to get out of the house. A slap here, and smack there. As long as i kept moving they usually didn’t get up and go after me. I just had to be quick. In those times that called for a “chase” i got a bit more than the smack and slap. When it was bad enough that you could see marks, i hid them. When i couldn’t hide them, i lied. When my lies didn’t work at school, they called the police. Mom and Dad were always sorry…to the cops, to the school, mostly to each other for them each having to go through all this “shit with me”.. I felt sorry for them. They were not sorry to me. I was scared of them, but i also felt sorry for them. I loved them. I still do.
I was also very protective of my little sister. She got the same treatment, but i was usually able to deflect a lot of the real bad stuff towards me. If the school or police could help, it was hard to tell. Sure they said all the right things, and really seemed to care, yet nothing ever changed. I was trapped. I hated my life. I was unhappy. I was doing terrible in school. I had no friends. I had no nice clothes to be proud of at school. I had no ..anything. I would only be given something i wanted to be used as hostage for a later punishment. Why would any kid want to be friends with me, when they have so many “normal looking, normal dressing, normal acting” other kids to choose from. i had nothing positive going for me. I knew how to lie and “duck and Cover”. i had self respect only when it came to protecting my sister.
We moved again when i was 12? A smaller town outside of the larger city i lived in prior. Smaller town, bigger “clicks” in school. Friends? nope. After 6th grade i had to go to the high school where the 7th thru 12 graders went. This would be number 7 if my count is correct. I had been very athletic. I ran fast, kicked hard, and understood rules…so sports up to this point were easy for me. However the few “aquantances” i had from sports soon went away when all of the other boys started to “bloom” and i stayed a child. I played with a few neighborhood kids, but wouldn’t ever call them friends. In fact the deal was i could hang out with them, as long as no one else knew i was. They didn’t want to ruin their reputations. Girls? not even a thought. The only time a girl would show any interest was if the nice ones would step in to stop a bully from picking or beating on me. But they would have done the same for a dog. I was probably a poor friend anyway. I didn’t know how to act, i lied, i looked like crap, I was a stick with hair. buck teeth and had issues. I made more enemies by trying to stay in sports, as i brought the team down..and i knew it. I tried to wrestle in 9th grade. 103lbs. they had kids from the 7th grade wrestle me, since i was so lite. I always lost. I didn’t shower after practice because i was ashamed that i had no hair anywhere that the other boys had. I believe i hit puberty when i was early 17.
When i was 15, my dad and mom divorced. before this they separated a few times, and i would move out with dad, and my sister would stay with mom. Finally they ended the marriage. However, i stayed with my mom and sister. Well, EX-step mom and sister. Over the next year my dad found a new woman and i enjoyed my time when i could visit. She was “nice’. i hated living at the house with mom, and the grass seemed much greener on dads side of the fence. So i moved in with dad and “J” and her daughter who was 17. one town away, school number 8. “J”‘s” daughter was cool and had friends. She tried to help clean me up and make some friends. The stay didn’t last long enough to see the fruits of this experiment. I saw what i needed and had no way to get it, so i decided to steal it..via cashing 2 checks from “j”‘s daughter that i had forged. Approx $60. I denied this of course but my dad knew i had done it and after convincing “j”, was beaten bloody by her. I know i did it, but she didn’t know. How could she just stop caring and become like “them”? I ran. When the police picked me up, they called my ex-step-mom. She rushed right over and condemned the beating i took at her ex-husbands girlfriends hand. We went over with police and retrieved my belongings, and i moved back in with her and my sister. School 9, which was the same as 7. We went to court and my dad dropped parental rights, so he wouldn’t have to pay child support, and deal with me anymore.
The new stay at my moms was short lived. We fought all the time. i was frustrated. i still had not told anyone about Melroy. Finally one day, during a
great argument i blurted out in frustration “i hate you because you made me go live with ‘him” When she asked “who” i told her Melroy. I said “you know what he did, and you didn’t care”. I don’t think they knew, but at the same time i couldn’t figure out how they couldn’t know, and why they abruptly pulled my out of his home and never again spoke about it. Regardless of if they did or did not know, she knew now. I flopped down on my sisters bed crying in shame. Mom came in and gave me these words of encouragement “It happened to me when i was a little girl and i dealt with it, you will find a way to deal with it to”..then she left. I was stunned. I died a little bit that day.
I was starting to realize that i could stand up for my self and sister, and
finally this all escalated one morning. I walked my baby sister to school every day, then took the bus from her school to the highschool. We left the house about 30 minutes after my mom needed to leave for work, so i was also in charge of breakfast for her and i. One morning mom was yelling at us. when she left for work i was very mad and tossed the first thing i could find, which happened to be my sisters plastic cereal bowl. It hit the floor and broke. It was my sisters favorite. When mom came back in to grab the coffee she had forgotten on the counter she saw my sister crying and went after her with the “i’ll give you something to cry about” routine. When she drew back to slap my sister i grabbed my moms arm and told her i was done with her hitting on my sister. If she wanted to hit me, fine, but if she ever touched her again i would hit her back. This scared the shit out of her. It scared the shit outta me! Social services was called. this was the last time she laid a hand on either of us.
Now Social services had been to our house on many many occasions. However this time it was different. I had now became abusive. or, so i was told, and i had admitted to being molested, which my mom told them about. I had threatened to hit my mom. I was doing terrible in school, i was sad, depressed and generally unhappy. On top of that i had been sexually abused for almost a year and had not told anyone for several years. I needed help. They suggested foster care. Due to the fact that i had never really been in trouble and that my parents were the reason for most of the involvement with the social services system, it took some time for them to work out how i could be put in foster care, as my parents had never been charged with any kind of abuse. So, for 2 months i sat in a shelter. A shelter for kids that are getting out of jail and can’t go home. Kids that were in trouble for abuse, drugs, gangs, etc..and the parents couldn’t take them back. A place that no kid wants to end up. Kid jail. I LOVED IT. The staff were amazing. The kids didn’t judge me. One staff member treated me more like his child than any parent i had ever seen. I was loved, so i felt. The day that the Social worker came to take me to my 1st foster home i cried. I begged them to let me just stay there. That didn’t happen. The first foster home lasted 6 months. The next, 4 months. (the last ones were amazing people and i appreciated them very much.) I made the B honor roll for the first time in my life! I even made some friends at what would be my last high school, they were all younger than me, but they were friends. my 13th school in total.
Finally the powers that be decided the best thing for me would be to go through a group home program and be emancipated before i was 18. i would have to deal with the kids in the program that were mostly there because they had been in juvy and couldn’t make it in foster care, but if i kept my head down and worked hard i could pass the program and be free to start my own life. I worked hard, passed the program and 3 weeks AFTER i turned 18 was able to leave, even though i was able to when i turned 18 anyway. i stayed on with them until i graduated high school. 1 week later i had to be out.
I tried to stick to the plan, but many things worked against me, not least of all, myself. All of my friends were 2-3-4 years younger than i was. i had no family. i had a part time job at a fast food joint. My room mates at the college dorms were much older and the parties were crazy. i lasted 2 months before i couldn’t pay rent and was kicked out of school, not that i attended class anyway. I had no one to turn to. I moved in with a guy that was a bit younger than i was and in the same situation. we met through our younger friends. This is were i start to really fuck my life up with poor decisions. It’s hard for me to explain this next part, as i don’t want to minimize what i did, and by no means can i justify it as not “wrong”. I had sex with one of my friends. We dated for a while, i often stayed at her moms place with her. Her mom allowed this as she knew i was young inside..but 18, and her daughter was taking her last 2 years of high school classes at college. She was my girlfriend. When the police came, i was surprised. Had i done something wrong? I was told that i didn’t really have to worry about it, but that i was in no way able to see her any more, as it was indeed illegal. She was 24 months and 2 weeks younger than i was. Her parents were divorced and her dad lived in NY. When he found out that i was 18, he called the police. they also wanted to talk to me about a “one night stand” i had with a girl me and my friend met while cruising Broadway. She was 16, so i wasn’t in trouble, but they wanted to know what happened.(Later i would find out that she was in fact 15, and had lied…not that it would have mattered to me if she said 15 as she was my social and emotional peer at this point in my life. She admitted to lying about it, her and my friends all heard her say 16, so they didn’t ‘push’ this to much)
1 year later, i decided to join the US Navy. On a “whim” i had taken a pre-entrance test, and scored well on it. I investigated my options and decided that if i could qualify for a “cool job” i would join. I ended up taking my ASFAB test and scored a 98. Which isnt amazing, but its pretty high. In fact i was able to pretty much pick any job i wanted, as long as i didn’t need college courses, which i didn’t have. I chose to try for the SARS program (search and rescue swimmer) Helo-Rescue as we called it. My parents were so proud of me. I was so proud of my self. I was going to make something of myself, when the chips were stacked against me. Mom, dad and my sister all came up to the hotel the night before i left. Our old little family together again, for 1 night.
I believe it was my 5th week at boot camp, when the officer came to the pool and asked me to follow him to the Captains office. I was informed that i was being released from the Navy due to lying on my entrance application. I was devastated. I had excelled in the navy. This was my one chance to be a greatperson. Do great things. Experience an amazing life. The navy was the perfectfit for me. I was very athletic again, and they had simple to follow rules. They were a family and i was an excepted part of that family. Why did i lie? ididn’t. See, back in Minnesota they had decided to crack down on all these oldstatutory rape cases on the books. I had not been charged when i entered thenavy, but i was charged after i entered. Because of this, the navy would normally have to supply me with representation.( in which case i would havealmost certainly had the charges dropped) This is not something the navy wants to do with a 5 week old recruit. So what they did was pretty smart. They changed the date on the paper work from minnesota to show that i was charged 1 month before i entered rather than 1 month after i entered. Now this wouldn’t get them out of anything, as i can simply appeal the discharge, and would win when the correctly dated paperwork is filed. However, until this all happens, and this appeal takes time, i would have been unable to make my first court date in Minnesota. Which means i would be charged with “failure to appear”. By breaking that law (failure to appear) while i was in the navy would give them the right to discharge me anyway. So, they had me over a barrel. I was told that i should go back, fight it, and my job would be waiting for me when i won.Off to court i go. it took 1 year to finally get the court stuff all worked out.
During that time i met “E”.( a girl i had dated a short time in 12 grade) I got a job, and was doing OK. I was just waiting to go back in to the navy when this nightmare was over. Finally after all was said and done, i agreed to plead guilty in exchange for this… They would recommend to the judge that i be sentenced to time served (I had already sat in jail for 12-14 days) a fine of $1,XXX dollars, i would have to take a class, which i had already taken while this court stuff was going on, and i would have to serve 1 year probation, starting at the date of my first court hearing. The last thing they asked for was for the judge to give me a stay of adjudication, which meant after i did all my requirements, that the felony would be changed to a misdemeanor. This was important as i can’t get back in the navy with a felony. All said and done i was supposed to be able to walk out of the court room that day..finish the last 13 days i had of the 1 year probation, pay my fine, and be adjudicated. I would be back in the Navy inside 2 months! Thank goodness. Well, the judge that sentenced me didn’t quite agree with the recommendation on the plea. I had already plead guilty, so i couldn’t take it back. They informed me that the judge “could” do more or less, but it was highly unlikely. You can guess what happened. I had to go to jail for 1 year. A $15,000 fine, 15 years of probation, registration as a sex offender, no drinking, no drugs, no breaking ANY laws, no unsupervised contact with girls under 16 and treatment classes. Why? The Judge said “due to the fact that i had a past history of sexual violence against me, that was never treated”. WHAT? I lost my life because of Melroy? Because i was to scared to tell someone? because **I** didn’t get help? What really hurt was that i did this to myself. I was guilty. I did exactly what they said i did. i broke the law. I didn’t talk about my childhood trauma to a therapist. Sure, this was all true, i was guilty of all of these things but how did i end up losing my future over it? I asked the judge why she would do this. She angrily said as if she had just helped me, that i needed to deal with the trauma i had when i was a child before i could deal with the service i intended to do for my country. “keep your nose clean and you will be off probation in 7.5 years, i will allow the request for adjudication”. 7.5 years i would have to wait before i could get this felony
off my record. Basically because they used to let you off probation after
serving 1/2 your time, if you were good.
7.5 years later, a lot of things changed. High profile sex offender cases. A huge out cry for harsher punishment for sex offenders. The old rules no longer applied. To probation, to the navy, to society. Evil people like me should be stung up by our ears and castrated. I kept my nose clean for 13 and 1/2 years before they finally allowed me to be off probation. I no longer am a registered sex offender and i am no longer able to join the navy. A lot of rules changed over 13.5 years. It took my 2 years just to get the paperwork done and have the stay of adjudication completed.(Mostly because felons don’t usually make it 13.5 years without screwing up and they lose it anyway). So now i have a misdemeanor rather than a felony. However it still says “3rd degree criminal sexual misconduct” which is more than enough to stop me from getting any type of good job. i loked into school and i can’t even PAY a colloge to let me get an EMT degree as i have a record.
I have 3 children. One of them i have never met. I will never be able to fight for any custody as i have a record with the word “sex” on it.
Felony or not, i will never be able to be a post man, cop, fireman, soldier, EMT, lawyer, teacher, coach, or any of the things i feel i could excel or could have excelled at.
I have been a sales trainer for a shitty in home sales vacuum company for almost 12 years. I opened my own shop and lost it after 1 year. My business was boycotted by the employees after one of them found out about my record. I was called a rapist and a pedophile. I called a meeting and read the letter that the young girls mom had wrote to the judge asking not to charge me..but that one person didn’t care. no matter who i was, i was the devil. They made sure i would never own a company in that town. I lost everything. I chose bad relationships. I drank too much. I splurged my money away.
The woman i met when i came back from the navy and while i went through
court..”E” married me 4 years after we started dating. 1 1/2 years later she
divorced me. I was married to the most amazing woman. She is a great mother. Our son is incredible. I know most people can’t talk well of their ex’s but this woman deserves every praise i give her. We were very young. I was not able to provide the things we needed to be a good couple. My future was going nowhere and she had every reason to think hers was going somewhere. She was right. I went nowhere and she went somewhere. She is a good friend now and i appreciate every day that she is in my life.
I sold vac’s, i taught people to sell vacs, i motivated people to sell vacs. I was good at it. I was the best at it. In some sick way i took pride in that, as i really was the best in the world and those around me respected that, as long as i kept lining their pockets. i was able to motivate people to do a job they didn’t want to do before they met me, then teach them to sell a $2500 vac to a person that didn’t even want to really see it. That took skill and i had it. I learned to count cards. I can tell you how David Blain walks on water, Copperfield made the statue of liberty disappear or how Penn can guess your age. I make shit float. I trick you. Basically i learned the skill of manipulation. Not just learned it, i mastered it. I also hate it. My friends are amazed at how i can make a grown random woman let me stick my finger in her butt crack and then get her husband to hug me and thank me for doing it for a bet of $50. I hate when someone “helps me out” and says you should work at XYZ sales company, your an amazing sales person. this has became one of my worst insults that a person can say to me. Although i have nothing against sales people, i respect what they do and there are many god, honest, loving sales people.. I just don’t want to be one of them anymore. I’m the best, because i’m the best manipulator. Not always in a bad way, but i am always forced to do it in a bad business sense. I want to use my skills to coach. teach. instruct. something good. last i checked they are not offering these types of honorable professions to people like me.
I remarried again, about 2 years ago. sick and tired of failed relationships,
money problems and no security i decided to do something about it. Yep..and i made another HUGE mistake. I met a woman, and after knowing her for 2 weeks, i married her. it was so romantic..blah, i manipulated myself. I had gotten very very lucky to land a job that paid well and was not “high pressure sales” type work. I had some money, not a lot, but some, but i had hope. For the first time in a long time i had some hope. She jumped right in with me. Now when i say this, i don’t mean to be rude or mean… She was crazy. Actually crazy. She has an untreated mental illness and is very sick. At first i thought we would be fine. Anything good takes work and i was willing to work. She was too. She understood i had a past, and i knew she had skeletons in her closet also. We had a daughter together. As things went on, things got unbearable. We have since decided to divorce and have been separated for about 9 months. Since she couldn’t afford to move out on her own at first, we lived in the same house, but separated. I am the only one that worked, took care of the house, cooked, cleaned, etc…(not that i did these things very often either) She took care of the baby. I was not fine with this situation, but it was bearable for the short term, I gave her money to pay the bills, and get the things she needed and the family needed. Finally before leaving shit hit the fan. She made plans to move out, i made plans to be gone, when she left, as to minimize fighting and problems. When i returned, everything was gone. Besides some personal items, a few pictures and some clothes, she emptied the house we rented. My accounts were all over drawn. And, to make matters worse, the power was shut off. She had been saving up all the money i gave her for bills and hiding the disconnection notices. Later to be thrown in my face as to what a poor husband i had been, i couldn’t even pay the bills.
This was about 6 months ago. Today, I’m homeless. I moved out of the house i rented and to another state/town about 60 minutes from where i was. I have a friend from the vac business that opened up a new “non vac type” company and asked me to run it. I met a woman that was in the navy! (6 years active duty 4 years of reserves) We hit it off pretty well. She doesn’t work, besides her 1 weekend a month. She moved in with me and now stays with me at my friend/bosses place until our new place is open on the 1st of April. (renting) I don’t have the money to pay all the bills myself but i have busted my ass over the last couple months and her and i are able to do it with the help of her tax refund and my hard work. BUT…She has decided to leave me. which in all honesty is probably the best thing in the world for me, as she was not very good for me. My friend and his wife are very happy that she is gone, as they said i treated her like a queen, and she treated me like crap. The thing is i love her. Just because i know that she is not good for me doesn’t change the hurt in my chest or the emptiness in my gut. She used me, and i know it. But i used her too. For comfort and love and all the things you are supposed to get from your mate. Just 2 weeks ago we picked out rings, and as soon as my divorce is finally we were going to buy them and be married. None of this is going to happen now.
Break ups happen. I know that. Heart aches go away. I know that too. But i am left here, and i have nothing. I’m in financial ruin. The new business i am helping get started is taking longer than we hoped to start generating enough income, even though its a very viable business. We dont think it will take too much longer to start generating a profit, but i am already 3 weeks worth of paychecks behind. I have $100 in cash in my pocket. I cant afford to drive to see my son. My soon to be ex-wife doesn’t give me any access to our daughter, so she can try and claim child support as the only parent that takes care of her. i wont find out whats going to happen with that until our April 4th court date..at which time i wont have any money to drive the 4 hours to attend the hearing. I have to be out of my bosses house by the 1st or their landlord is going to evict them for having a second family living with them, and the lease says no one can stay for more than 14 days…we have been there for almost 2 months already.
I hurt, all the time. I’m kinda smart, and i think i have the tools to be whatever i want to be…yet i can’t. Because of choices i made, because of errors i made, because of things others have done.. the reason why doesn’t change the facts. If given the opportunity i have the skills to succeed. I just don’t have the opportunity.
I have a record that stops me from having any “normal’ job that can at least
make me break even each month. I owe the IRS money from years ago that i still have not been able to pay back. My credit is terrible. I don’t have my kids. i don’t have a place to live. I have nothing saved up. Most of what i had was taken when “C” moved out, so i cant even pawn anything.
I can deal with the bills. i can deal with the break up. i can deal with the divorce. My whole life i have dealt with things. But, i can’t deal with these all at once. I definitely have more pain than the resources to cope with this pain. i can’t reduce the pain by not dealing with one or more of these things right now, as they all need to be dealt with right now. I need a place to live. I need a job that pays or a pay check from the one i have. I need to deal with the heartbreak i have. i need to see my kids. i have to pay the bills. Not one is more important in the end, as they all have to be done. My children are the most important to ME..but all of these are the same importance as far as what needs to get done.
If i can’t figure out a way. then i don’t want to hurt anymore. It scares me to say this, but i know i would have killed myself last night, if i wasn’t so afraid of death. I always have been. I have always said i want to live forever. I have often joked that if vampires were real i would be the first person in line to become immortal. Rational or not, its true. But, now i am to the point that i can’t see how i am going to make it. Yah, i know its a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But my problem isn’t temporary. It never seems too get better.
I’m a problem solver though, and i have fought all my life to be a good man. A good lover. A good father. A good friend. it doesn’t mean that i always succeeded at it, but i fought to be. I have always sought ways to fix the problems in my life so i can try and be those things. So that’s why i’m here..to fight, but i gotta tell yah, the fight in this dog is starting to go away pretty fast. I need a hand up. All my life i have been forced to give everyone around me the “hand up” just to be able to be in their life. I just hope that soon its my turn, cause i sure need it.
Scared and Hurt- CH