I haven't been posting the same journals between both my accounts... but this one seems a little too important not to be at both...
Yeah, disclaimer, this may just be a littany of first world problems or uncared-for drama, but it's my journal after all. If you think it's all simple and little things i should just get over... well then, i guess that's that.
My past started out rather normal - at least i think so. My mom and dad were both employed at the local college - Mount Scenario - i had an older sister (annoying, but meant well on occasion) and I myself had a rather nice life, i think. I never noticed the fights - i just thought mommies and daddies did that - it was just a part of life, right?
My troubles started roughly around... oh, i'd say 5th grade, but there were other bumps in the road prior to that. In the third grade for instance, my teacher diagnosed me with ADHD because i was crying over an "F" grade i had gotten and wasn't paying attention to her lecturing me because i was bereft over my failure.
A constant theme to remember is that until 8th grade i had nobody. my family never really asked what was going on - mom was too busy fighting dad, dad didn't give a rat's ass, and sis was busy trying to make me do everything for her and pretty much being the wicked stepmom re-incarnated.
4th grade rolls around and my parents lost their jobs. The president of the college in his infinite wisdom embezzled funds from the college. The whole board of directors KNEW it was happening... and said NOTHING. Because of this the entire COLLEGE shut down. This ruined the town, my parents... and me. My parents had been doing the american dream thing - that is - they were saving money for me, paying a mortgage, owning a house, etc... well after their jobs were lost... they had to declare bankruptcy. There. Goes. Everything.
A big thing that did happen in 5th grade? my 4th grade teacher Peter Krajewski... He died. In a plane crash. He had touched my heart - he seemed like he actually CARED about my life. He talked to me during free times, he asked how i felt, he chastised me when i messed up, but he also did it in a constructive way... He was like... a father! The day he died, my 5th grade teacher who was like an aunt to me had to have noticed the fact that i had practically collapsed. The school called off the rest of classes for the day, and my parents were quiet the whole ride home. No words of consolation, no comments on the remembrance of the good times...
This may be hodge-podge to throw in at this point, but to hammer home the fact that my father was nothing near a father to me... For the first 2 years of my life, i'm pretty sure i was convinced my name was "Fuckface." because that's all he called me. Mom heard me say it even. "Michael! come here!" "My name isn't Michael, it's Fuckface!" Otherwise my friend Liz told me she had overheard our fathers talking... He said "I may as well have had another daughter."
In 6th grade i realized i was gay. This was hell for me. I punished myself every day, i mentally flogged myself trying to force myself to be straight. This continued on until High School. Being raised catholic with an extreme "father" like that... I was certain i was doomed to an eternity in hell.
In roughly 7th 8th grade my grandfather grew ill and died. The whole family was dead emotionally... but i didn't shed a single tear. The man never spoke to me. if anything he was even more silent than my father... and yet i loved him so much more. I was so sad i couldn't cry. To this day, i swear i must have looked like the coldest person on earth... I still talk to him sometimes... when i'm having rough days. Him and my uncle...
The death was the last straw for my mother. Dad played for the funeral... AND CHARGED MY GRANDMOTHER. She bolted in the middle of a night... oh but wait there's so much more to this story.
So there's this woman, Lisa, that my dad starts hanging around with at his new job. Mom has since been trying to find another job and eventually she finds her DREAM job as a social worker. Dad starts to argue with her, saying he never sees her anymore. Like he cared in the first place. he just wanted sex and food made for him, the house cleaned, y'know all those things i couldn't do for him because i was oh, all the better of near or before adolescence. and a male at that.
They fight and she quits her job to try and appease him, getting a job instead at a gas station. He continues to see Lisa, and better yet, sees her more often. Even INVITES her to DINNER with the FAMILY. ever heard of the wife and the missus? She brings her 4 year old daughter Mariya to the dinner. To this day my dad asks her to sit in his lap, might i add. I'm disturbed by that man... is he a man? no he's a monster. but i digress.
All of this is a long roundabout way of saying that mom divorced my father, but not before she lived out of her car and subsisted on a diet of vodka, gin, and beer. She came back one time in the middle of the night, crying and begging to see me. i could hear her from inside the house - along with the retching and vomit. Dad forbade me to see her, and called the police. She screamed, she kicked, she begged and pleaded. I was bawling. Dad stayed stone silent and glared down at me... As if Daring me to love her.
I went into high school a broken man. I said nothing to anybody except my one friend and those he deemed appropriate to talk to. I followed everyone's whims and wishes, never really did anything for myself. I eventually asked a girl out... she ended up becoming a lesbian as luck would have it. I "dated" a couple more girls actually, before i came out, but nothing serious happened. By the way, at this point i lived with my father. I've always had a problem with weight and self-image, i've been shy about my singing voice, my intelligence, my personality... Well with him being the person i lived with... I gained roughly 200 pounds. I was immeasurable on a normal 350 pound scale. They would have had to hook up a winch style scale to weigh me. I refused. I already knew that was too much.
There's so many things... in so many different time frames, i can't keep it all straight in my head... but now... I'm in college. i weigh 270 pounds roughly. yeah, it's not that light... but i'm measurable. I've posted songs, written stories, spoken about my classes... and i'll admit that currently i have a 3.7 GPA here at Stout. I care deeply about my friends, and yes some of them have betrayed that trust... but i don't break down and cry anymore. I don't feel worthless all the time like i used to. I've been complimented by friend and stranger alike - i actually have SKILLS and WORTH.
Maybe i'm complaining about nothing. maybe my life isn't all that tough, but nobody will know for certain because they haven't lived it like i have. I could've had a chance - i could've had a nice life... but i was born to that monster of a father. I can't even say that mom was perfect, but at least she cared and with dad out of the picture she's been trying to stay in my life. My sister? she's mellowed out a bit, but she still has her severe moments...
