When does something matter to you? Are you the type of person who focuses solely on yourself, and maybe your immediate family? Perhaps you’re the kind of person who looks at things on a broader scale and has empathy for those around you. I’m always curious about what others think and feel, that’s why I’m asking. When I was younger and around drug dealers and street thugs, I found that none of them cared about anything outside of their own being. I kind of slid into that way of thinking because I was so focused on just surviving. As I’ve progressed through my life, my thoughts progressed as well, so let’s explore that.
Being in the business and watching my “boss” make loads of cash with all the freedoms in the world, it was appealing, especially to a very young teen who hadn’t had a chance to really get a view of the world. I knew of nothing other than a very closed group. Life didn’t exist outside of that bubble. It was so bleak that I never felt that I’d live past the age of 30. I was all about the here and now, the instant gratification, the quick buck! What I found was once my eyes and ears opened to some people who came into my life, I began to realize just how big the world really was. I began to see things from a new and exciting perspective. While it didn’t sit well with my boss, and believe me, he tried with all of his might to keep me held back, under the iron fist. It was only a matter of time before I broke free of this closed minded thinking.
I’ve been writing about this in my upcoming book and how I started to “transform.” It would take many years to really break out of the shell that I’d created, but my thinking was always open to possibilities. I went from thinking that I was nothing, to believing that I could do anything. While I kept all of my secrets about my “prior life”, I still managed to keep an open mind. Talking to others, learning about what their fears were, what they might have gone through in their lives, and how they struggled. So much of the suffering that went on and still goes on is so preventable. Losing yourself in the shadow of another is what happened to me. I’d lost myself, become a non-entity who had very few feelings for others. I spent my time building an empire for someone who had me believing it meant something, that I was special. Mobster mentality if you will. You are meant to serve the powers at the top without question.
In these times of uncertainty and struggle, I find myself reflecting on what I’ve seen and gone through and likening it to the times that are before us now. This in turn makes me look at people around me once again and raise the question, “Does anyone even care?” Have we as a society lost our way, and possibly our soul?
I was mowing my lawn yesterday and my neighbor pulled into his driveway. He hassled me about mowing my lawn and thus “forcing” him to do his in order to keep up. We both chuckled and then had further discussion about things going on in his life. His wife was in the hospital again and he was having issues with his knee. He was still smiling and saying how he wished things would be better so that they could travel but had started to believe that would probably never happen due to health issues. It was a moment of pause for me. I’m still healthy enough to do as I wish and travel freely. I felt something right there and then for his situation. What could I do to show that I cared? Well, I started up my mower and began mowing his lawn. He didn’t ask me to do it, or even ask for help. I made the choice that was clear to me. It was the right thing to do. I felt for this man and just wanted to show that I cared. It didn’t take much time and when he walked out and found the lawn mowed, he smiled from ear to ear. He asked why I’d done this. I simply replied “because I wanted to.” He then said, “you didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” There was nothing more that needed to be said. This is what humans are supposed to do, it’s what we’re supposed to be like. It doesn’t take much to apply what someone else is going through to your own thoughts and then offer help. Step outside of your bubble and experience things as others might. It’s why I always try to be kind to people who are perhaps having a rough go of it. It costs nothing to be kind. A smile or acknowledgment of someone can go a long way.
I don’t have all the answers to the world’s problems, but I do care about how we humans continue to form our society. I’d like to believe that there are enough of us out there that we can see through the eyes of others, feel their strife and possibly do something about it. So, then we get back to my original question that I posed: What kind of person are you? Think it through. Ask yourself what kind of world you want to live in. Are you happy? Do you feel anything for others in this world? I once was cold and the way I viewed the world was sad, unforgiving, full of hate and greed. I’ve worked hard to clear that away and see everything, and everyone. I remain hopeful that we can all find our way through in the coming years. If we can’t, our future is bleak, and uncertain. What are you willing to do about it?
As seen through the eyes of Zombie, and now Robert.
I found a tattoo in one of my many searches of the internet that grabbed me. It was an antique typewriter that said the words “I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.” That touches my soul. I truly cannot be still inside. I’ve referred to myself as being a “restless soul” for many years. I also feel that the reason I’ve survived everything is because my work is not done yet. I’m starting to believe, or at least feel that part of my purpose is to write. I always have something that I feel could be shared that in turn can assist someone else in their journey. Life is truly a journey and how we choose to live it is in our hands. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You hold the power.
When I talk about past issues or the things that I’ve experienced through the years. I do so always thinking how I would feel if I stumbled across this blog earlier in my life. In a way, I’m speaking to my younger self at times, trying to guide my ship into the harbor. I was so lost, so hopeless and alone at points. I could have used this kind of blog then. When I sit here writing my book I think about all the stories that play out and when I read back through, sit in amazement that I’m still here. My restless self refused to ever give up. That is what I try to project when I write now. That even when things are at their worst, search for an out. Search for that light that can guide you so that you can find your peace.
My sister and I were sitting in my driveway tonight and both of us have had our share of crap thrown our way. We’ve come to a point that all we desire is peace. It’s just that simple. I don’t long for things, for stuff, or great fortunes. I want peace. I want to be able to live inside of my own head and feel good. I want to shed those that would bring about rage and feelings of old. While I’m good at confrontation and have found that I’m good at inflicting pain, I choose to step away from all of it. I simply want peace.
“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” (Laurell K. Hamilton) We all have them, wounds that for some, never heal. Whatever your life situation might be, you can make it better. As I stated before, I feel at times that I’m talking to my younger self. I’d want him to know that there will be an end to the loneliness and pain. The burdens will one day be lifted and peace will surround you. Like sitting in a warm quilt on a cold Winter’s night. In order to achieve this kind of peace, work has to be done.
I got on here tonight to write and calm my soul a bit. To cleanse myself after writing more of my book. The book is part of my work to find my inner peace. To calm that restless soul. Pouring things out in my book is stepping back in time and with that comes some picking at old wounds. Some are just relationships that were shared and left behind. I had a moment tonight that made me look up a girl I dated while still “in the business.” She was a damaged human that had demons of a different sort. I cared deeply for her at one point in my life and had to let her go. She struggled with both alcohol and drugs as time went on. We stayed in touch for several years but at some point just lost touch and everything went radio silent. I was curious how things turned out for her and hoped it would be positive. That was not the case, she passed away in 2021 at the age of 52. Reading this was not entirely shocking to me, but made me sad nonetheless. She was a human that had dreams and too, wanted to quiet her demons. Our roads could have been much the same. I still remember the last time that we spoke and how I felt that she was so lost. I wish that there was something I could’ve said to her to give her hope. The idea that there’s always a new day tomorrow and we can make it better. Some never find that.
“Stalked by Demons, Guarded by Angels” This is on my RoadID that sits on the side of my Garmin watch. I feel that there is always something in my past, or some kind of demon that stalks me. I’ve managed to keep them out of my dreams for awhile now, but always feel that I need to stay a step ahead. When I’m restless and tired is when I look for those Angels to come and sit by me. I’ve had moments that I’ve simply closed my eyes and asked for something that I felt was too heavy to be lifted off of me. Moments that I just don’t feel I can get through alone. While I still struggle with my faith, I do feel that there is energy in our world. I’m never afraid to just step back and allow this energy to assist me. To let my restless, brokenness be still, even if it’s only for a few moments. To allow me to breathe and process. If I could say anything to my younger self it would be “Don’t try to carry your burdens alone.” Tomorrow will be a new day and there will be a chance to find what you truly seek, peace.
I’ll close out by enclosing a piece that I found.
Thank you so much for following along on my journey.
~Robert~
There will be people who move on without you, and people you admired that you can no longer look up to, and there will also be gaps in the trees where the wind blows through and reminds you: no matter the betrayal or the rejection, there is still room in this life to make meaningful, new connections.
After numerous conversations with folks, I wanted to take a minute and go back through why I blog and why I’m writing a book about my life. I also want to touch on what I want or expect from all of this. Let me say first off that I want nothing from you folks. I don’t ask for money, or sympathy. I’m just looking for people who want to know my story and possibly relate to others that may have gone through or are going through some kind of shit. I know how isolating that feels, so if I can write something that touches another human to help them find a way to freedom, that’s really all that I’m looking to do.
“I write for myself.” That’s a statement that I’ve made many times on my blog. I do it to set demons free that reside inside my head. It’s a way of me cleansing things that have made me feel dirty for far too long and I’ve found that it’s good for me. I love the platform of a blog because anyone who feels the desire to read what I put out can do so with no expectations. If what I write touches you, that’s a bonus to what I do. If I can help someone, even better. Just the idea that I’m sitting down and writing about things that have been stuck inside of me for so long is serious progress for me. I never wanted to tell my story or say things about my life to others. Some of that story has been on the outside of the law, so I’ve always worried about that portion. I’ve also worried about people with whom I’ve dealt in my past coming back to haunt me in some fashion. That threat remains to this day. I believe that most are gone now, so there’s a level of comfort in that, but you just never know who knows who, or who is related to someone who might take a shine to things I talk about. This is the main reason that I keep things vague at times. I won’t share places, or persons with anyone outside of my counselor’s office. It’s just not smart.
I’ve had people reach out and say that they feel sorry for me because of what I’ve been through or offer some form of sympathy. I appreciate the gesture, but I want you to know that the choices that I made were my own. While I was a juvenile, and assisted down a path of destruction, there were points where I probably could have escaped, but didn’t. I too got caught up in the idea of money and power. People who have nothing are easy targets for those who would exploit them. I own everything that I’ve done. I also own the person that I became from all of this. What I never wanted to do was be held responsible for my feelings. I didn’t realize early on that all of this would come to the surface later in my life and torture me through nightmares and erratic behavior. If anything, I ask that you all celebrate that I reached out to a professional to get the help that I needed to make things right. That’s what started the whole turnaround. If I hadn’t done that, I’d still be sitting in silence, and the wounds would never have begun healing.
A co-worker told me that after reading one of my blog entries, she understood that I wasn’t looking for sympathy but stated that the next time she saw me she was going to hug me whether I wanted it or not. I will tell you now that hugs are always welcome. They can change a person’s day for sure, so hug away! That’s a thing that I had to learn to be alright with. Spending time with people in Al-anon helped me to get past my issues with people touching me or being too close to me. I’ve learned to be alright with hugs but still have serious issues with people being too close to me. If I don’t know you, you don’t want to get in my “zone.” I have a certain amount of space that I need in order to be able to breath and conduct my business. If you get into that area, I’ll probably give warning quickly. This too is part of growing up the way that I did. People in close proximity are considered to be a threat and threats need to be neutralized.
I’m still learning to be alright with my darker side. Understanding that it’s a part of me that will never go away is important. Being able to control it is necessary. While it’s served me well and made me into a strong and vigilant human, it needs to remain the quieter side of me. I’m working on seeing light and finding happiness in my world. Even in these times of confusion and chaos, I want to believe that there is better in the world. Chatting with others, sharing my story, and listening to those who have been through challenging times is helpful. I never want to feel alone again. If there’s one thing that I’m sure of, I will never isolate myself the way I did for the first part of my life. I will always speak my truth and find a way forward.
So, if you happen to see me around, feel free to speak with me and don’t shy away from any of the topics that I talk about on here. I’ve gotten pretty good at being open about everything. If any of the discussions make you feel sad for me, just know that I’m in a much better place now. No sympathy is required, in fact I’d prefer that we discuss things and keep it on the positive. I survived and I’m here to talk about it today. That’s worth celebrating, and if celebrating means hugs, I’m all in!
I’ve been sitting here working on my book this evening. Decided it was that time…time to hop over to the blog and shake the bad feelings out. I’m torn with my book. I love writing it because I’m getting things out and processing them as I go. The problem is that some of the things that I’m processing aren’t going so smoothly. There were a couple events that I just typed out that are still just kind of festering. I’m struggling a bit with sleep, at least good solid sleep. Strange nightmares and feelings of regret. I told my sister that I’m looking forward to getting through the worst of the stuff, so that I can start writing about the rest of my life and finding my way out. It makes my typing that much quicker and focused. I want to just dump all of this out of my head and onto the computer. I’ve reached out to my counselor, as she stated after our last session that she’s only just a call away. I know when it’s time, and it’s time. I also see the opportunity to further my disclosure to her. As I’ve stated in other blogs, she knows more about me than pretty much anyone on this planet. She won’t judge me, and will help me to find a way through, which is what I always desire. Just simply a way through.
The other area of struggle is being seen, or heard. This is a common theme in my blogs because of having to be silent for so much of my life. I was made to hide away everything, and in doing so, you become kind of a gray man. You just blend into the backdrop. It was required earlier in life, not anymore. So, when I have these moments where I don’t feel that I’m seen, or heard, I panic. It fuels agitation and negative thoughts. Being dismissed by another is one of the worst things that I can ever experience. It makes me want to just scream, “look at me when I’m talking!” As you can imagine, there are many in the world today that can easily just look right through you. At the store, restaurant, work, doctor’s office, pretty much anywhere. People that engage solely with their cellphones also get directly under my skin. I think how hard I’ve had to work to be able to climb out of my shell, only to find that so many out there want to crawl back into a shell. I’ll never understand. There’s no great happiness in being so secluded.
The book is coming along quickly. I’m still feeling good about having it completed before the end of the year. I’ll reach out to some that are part of my past to see if they’d be comfortable with me using their given name, or if they’d want it to be switched. I’m writing it with the given names because it’s much easier for me to just let things pour out with the people that were a part of my life and then go back later and switch names. It’s kind of surreal reading back through all of it. I was just telling one of my co-workers the other night that I feel as though I’ve live a thousand lifetimes. They all feel like they’re broken down into sections. The things that have felt distant are now back in my face again. Intense.
One of the happy parts that I was writing about was my high school typing teacher. I wrote a pretty good section about her and so wish that I’d gone back to tell her how much she helped to shape my life for the better. There have been moments, and people in my life that I feel were placed there to guide me in a better direction. A road block of sorts. When I was at my most destructive and could’ve easily fallen deeper into the underworld, someone or something got in the way. In this case, it was a teacher that saw something in me. She took the time to see me, to hear me, to nurture my skills. One of the discussions that we had, I swear she knew everything about me. She was desperately trying to guide me away from the darkness. She made me believe in myself and that there could be a better life for me, I just needed to focus on it. Again, she arrived at the perfect time and made a change in me that altered the course of my life. Teachers are a gift. They have the ability to find people that have been lost in life. I’m not going to say that she made everything perfect, but she gave me a chance. She gave me what I needed at that particular time in my life. Had I not encountered her, and had she not noticed me, things could’ve been very different now. My ability to sit here and type this blog out is because of her. My ability to be writing this book are thanks in part to her. I’m grateful for having her in my life.
You know that I like to wrap things up in some kind of positive fashion, so just remember that I do see and hear you folks when you speak to me. I enjoy the many conversations that I’ve shared with so many now. I’m grateful that people seek my wisdom from a life lived. This is how I think humans should be. We need one another whether we want to believe it or not. I might have a bad day at work and say that I hate people, but really inside, I don’t. I’m not saying they’re all good for me, but they might be for someone. I take my wife’s advice and try to remember that there’s good in all of us.
I received word tonight that my Uncle on my Mother’s side of the family had passed away last night. He’d been battling prostate cancer and wasn’t fond of the side effects that were happening from the treatments, and decided to just let things be. I bring this up because it’s part of several topics that I’ve blogged about prior to this. Family, loss, and all the dynamics that come with humans. Grief and loss are so individual to each of us. Some may feel completely broken inside and others are able to move through the loss with what appears to be hardly a scratch. It’s a complicated subject, much the way that humans themselves are complicated. We’re messy, of that I’m sure.
The news of this loss was something that prompted a discussion among my siblings and my cousin. The dialogue was open and cordial. We truly care for one another and again, the dynamics of family made this an interesting discussion. I’ll start by saying that I hardly knew my Uncle Brian. I have a few scattered memories of him in passing at different points in my childhood, but for the most part, I never really had conversation with him. He was my mother’s brother, and was a man of God. There were secrets much the same as all families had. My Uncle had a tough childhood, but as for the extent of what went on, I’ll never really know. He appeared to be very quiet, and had a shyness about him. I know that he had a fondness for good bourbon, one that he shared with my Uncle David on occasions. Both men of the cloth and very educated. They had a talent for listening and obviously due to the chosen careers, had a gift for speaking. They were both very human, and had their flaws as we all do.
The discussion that was shared among our small group was along the lines of who people really are, and how we find ways to get through our lives. The things that have harmed us, and the things that have given us great joy. The relationships that were forged and the people that seemed to get left behind. There were certain times that I had to take a step back and evaluate my feelings about family, especially those that hovered on the far edge of it. The ones that I really didn’t get to know. This was one of those moments. The loss of a human life is tragic. No matter how I might feel, there are many that are devastated. Just because I didn’t get the opportunity to get to know my Uncle doesn’t mean that he was a lesser person, or that his passing shouldn’t be mourned. It made me feel sad that we didn’t get to know one another. That I wasn’t able to see all the special things he had to contribute to this world. It also made me sad that he never got to know me and all that I have to offer. Family, and the delicate inner workings always play a part in these things.
I realized once becoming of adult age that both sides of my family had serious communication issues. In fact, I discovered that even within my own family, the relationships that I had with my sisters was partially controlled by my mother. It was a tactic carried on from one family to the next. She’d learned the art of “divide and conquer.” If you tell one child one thing and then tell the other something different, there remains a fracture that only the person telling the different stories is able to control, or in their eyes fix. I found that I’d be angry at each of my sisters at different times, but the reasons for being angry were manipulated by my very own mother. I’m not saying this to bring shade to my mother, it’s what she knew, it was the way she learned in her upbringing. Once I’d discovered this, I sat with my sisters and made a pact that we would never let anything come between us. That we would keep our bond as siblings tight. We began a group text that was left open for each of us to reach out to one another. We took our control back. This may have been upsetting to my mother at first, but as time went on she discovered how wonderful it was to see all of us together at different times, and happy. Something that she struggled with within her own family. Fractured relationships stayed in place among her siblings, and in some cases all the way to their very deaths. This was something that I never wanted to see with my sisters. They were not only my sisters, but my best friends and closest allies.
The webs that we weave. Due to these many fractured relationships, I was never given the opportunity to learn about other family members. It was similar on my father’s side of the family. He didn’t get along well with his brother or my Aunt, so we didn’t get to be around our cousins. We were told stories that as adults learned were not true. I was always told that they were the “rich” Neeleys and didn’t want to be associated with bums from the wrong side of town. I learned to dislike all of them without ever even truly knowing them. When we were actually together, I felt nothing for them. I knew the stories, and they had to be true. Once again, as an adult, I searched for truth. I wanted to know who these people were that shared my name and bloodline. Why didn’t they like us? I felt the same when I was at my Uncle David’s funeral service. My uncle Brian and his wife were there and for the first time in my life I spoke up. I explained to them that while they didn’t get a chance to know us, I wanted to assure them that we were all very good people. That we were worth knowing and that I was sad that so much time had gone by without having that. My Aunt was taken back by my words, but I knew that I had to speak up. I’d seen too much in life to just let this opportunity go by. She stated that she was sorry that we didn’t spend more time together as well. The unfortunate part of this story is that we never did get that bridge built. My Uncle is now gone and yet another chance to make things right has been lost.
This brings me to what I have before me now. I have just one Aunt left on my mother’s side of the family. She’s a happier version of my mother and it makes me love her even more. I have a few cousins still around as well. A couple of which I’ve forged very close bonds with. (Yeah Rick, I consider us close). I just said tonight that I want to take in everything that I can in my life before I have to leave it. Family is a big part of it. I try to reach out as often as I can with those that mean the most. I’d like to push that further and get all involved. I’m also realistic enough to know that some will never desire these same things, and I’ve learned to be good with that.
Anyone that’s spent time reading my blog knows that I’ve been secretive and isolated for a good portion of my younger life. When I get my book out there it’ll shed more light on the how’s and why’s this happened. Spending so much time self isolating is not the answer, and leads to even more damage. I know now that being open and extending my hand out is the best way, even when it’s painful. Even when I feel that someone has wronged me. I need to know truth and the only way to find it is to be open. I owe that much to those around me.
I love my family. They’re unique, messed up and flawed…they’re all so very human. I’ll continue to be the best version of me that I can, and will always try my hardest to seek the truth. Once finding truth, I need to process it and find a way forward, no matter how complicated. I wish all of these things for those reading this now. This is my way of grieving the loss of a man that deserves to be grieved. This is how I find my truth. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to know him better and that we couldn’t be more in this world. He was loved, and he was human. Perhaps we’ll bridge the gap on the other side of life.
The challenges of writing a book are a real thing. My issues stem more from the inability to get through sections because of the content. I’ve said before that it’s all stored and just waiting to come out and onto my computer. I sit down, turn on some music and start typing. I recently typed up portions that had to do with events that are just disturbing. Telling this part of the story gave me all kinds of bad feelings. I didn’t like myself for being a witness to things that I never wanted to see. Writing it out was a positive, but then re-reading it made it very real…again. I looked over the words and wondered, who the fuck was I?! It’s these moments that make me have to step away and get my head straight again.
I’m grateful that I have a support system in place, so that when this does happen, I can reach out and look for clarity. While I understand that it was a long time ago, and that I was a young tween/teen at the time, I can’t help but gravitate towards those negative human emotions. I contacted my sister and went for a walk after typing up this latest portion of my memoir. I was catching her up on what I was working on. We discussed one of the situations in particular that had me still feeling sick. I explained the whole event and how I’d left it open to interpretation. I couldn’t help but break into tears as we walked. It was like this tidal wave of horror that just washed over me. I felt like I was trapped in a dark storm. My sister was very gracious and kept reminding me that I was just a kid, that I was surviving, and that I needed to let this go. The actions of others were not my doing, and in fact I was being intimidated by these individuals for a reason…control.
I love that I have this outlet to clear my head. I do love writing and telling this story. I knew going into it that it would be painful, but I guess I didn’t realize just how much pain it would bring about. This book is important to me. I’m hopeful that once it’s all out that I’ll feel some kind of relief; a closure of sorts. The idea is to be able to come to terms with all of it – everything. The other challenge with writing is my constant view of everything that went on and how many times I put myself in a bad position. I think of the legal ramifications with everything I type. There was a passage that I was writing and I made the statement “this is when I committed my first felony.” The gravity of that statement sat heavy with me. With each paragraph I type I look back at it and can just sit there and point out all of the different things that are illegal. It’s like throwing a dart at a board and hitting a bullseye every time.
I have to keep telling myself that I’m not that person anymore. While he still resides inside of me, I’ve grown, I’ve changed, and I seek to be a better human. While I feel an urgency to type everything out as quickly as possible, my body and mind won’t allow that to happen. A good friend reminded me that “the timeline is my own.” I’m holding on to those words with a tight grip. This is my story and I can do it in a manner that I feel good with. A manner that allows me time to find healing as I pore over the pieces/parts of my life that I’ve tried so hard to wish away. I’ve tried to set the stage so that people reading it will understand how I got to be in such a compromising position. If I didn’t try to explain that, I could see people reading the horrible parts and wondering how I could be that way, or how could I get involved with people like this? It was a slow and methodical approach, taken by someone who was just really good at their craft. You’ll also start to understand that being in a home that left me open and vulnerable played a part in it. If you’ve kept up with my blogs, then what I’m saying here came through in many of my recent blog postings. “What would you do to survive?” I blogged about that and asked others to look inside themselves and ask that very question.
My plan with this memoir is to lay out how I got into the position of working for an underworld person, then as I go, give reflection on each of the events as I spell them out with the clarity that I have today. The later part of the book will be focused on life after getting free of this ugly phase. The damage that it caused that was long lasting, the struggle to find myself and a reason to keep moving forward. Through all of this, I just can’t say enough times that I’m so happy that I’ve made it this far. How I’m happy to finally be able to speak to people openly and not have to worry about my past creeping up and pulling me under. “Silence and Secrets” was another blog post that comes to mind. I lived that for so much of my life. Always wondering if I’d take everything to the grave with me. The fear I had of speaking things out loud for fear of reprisal, fear of harm, and fear of losing those that I love.
I’ve asked my sister Patti to do artwork for the cover of this book. We’ve started a dialogue on what we think would best fit. I recently thought of Dante’s Inferno and the 9 levels of hell. Some of the images that I surfed through struck me. So powerful and so relatable. Climbing out of hell, or all the different levels of hell were something that I understood. I’ll keep you updated on this as we progress. My sister has serious skills and I know that whatever she comes up with will be amazing. (No pressure Patti)
My internal goal is to get this book completed before year’s end. Expect more blogging as well because this is a good dumping ground for all of my stirred up feelings. Consider yourselves warned…lol! I want to thank the following for getting me through this past week:
My sister Leanna – for all the mental support
My sister Patti – for having vision and talent with art…I look forward to the book cover art
My wife Karla – for being a great editor…even when she didn’t want to be.
My friend – Amy DeVincent for keeping me centered.
I’ll continue to thank all of you that keep reading and following my journey. The idea that there are people out there that care enough to read the stories of this mixed up human amaze me daily. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I had to step away from writing the book and switch to something that would ground me again. A feel good of sorts, so I’m back on my blog doing what I do. Music, sweet music! The entire time that I’m writing, be it on here doing my blogging, or writing pages in the book, music is a must in the background. I’ve even made reference in the book to how I learned to slip away in my music at times when I was feeling trapped or alone. Being that there was so much that I had to carry silently, it was a great escape for me. Soothing voices, happy tunes, or just grinding riffs from heavy metal music, they were all a huge part of my life. I think that I had a closer relationship with music than I did with any human for a good portion of my life.
I’m certain that if I asked any of you right now to tell me some of your favorite songs, you could then equate them to a moment in time that was relevant in your life. Music and lyrics are so powerful! It has always made me wonder if I was in sync with some of these bands, or singers through different stages of my life. When so many other things weren’t making sense, music always did. When you needed something to pick you up, music was there. If you needed to rage with anger, yeah, music was there for that as well. There is music for every single human emotion, and I’m here for it!
This particular section of the book that I was just working on went through a time when I’d realized just how screwed I was. How trapped, unable to tell anyone anything. It was that first night that I went home and lost myself in music. It changed the relationship that I had with music forever. I would now look to music to pull me through so many dark times. Does it sound extreme? Perhaps, but for those that have gone through shit in their life, I’m thinking they can relate, and I can’t be the only one on the planet that has delved deep into music to either find yourself, or lose yourself. The power of music can take you anywhere you want to be transported.
Certain songs can immediately give me the exact feelings of whatever was happening when I was first listening to it. There is music that both of my parents listened to that I truly enjoyed. I still listen to some of the music that they played either in their vehicles or around the house. My mother’s tastes were surprising at times and I loved to play some of the latest songs by artists that she enjoyed. Music is a good way to connect to others. I formed an excellent relationship with my son because of our love for music. We still discuss or shoot different songs back and forth that are on our play lists or something that just came out. Same with my sisters. I was having a discussion today with Leanna about the band Alice In Chains. I discussed the sad history of the lead singer and how he’d lost his life to drugs. Yet the band has survived all of it and went on with another singer to sound amazingly the same. Makes me wonder where they could have gone had drugs not wrecked his life. Same thing goes for so many singers that I enjoy. It may shock some of you but I’ve been a George Michael fan for many years. His lyrics are much deeper than most would know. His pop days with Wham were hit and miss, but as he aged, the lyrics spoke to me in numerous songs. The hidden gem of a CD by him is called “OLDER.” Listen to the song “Strangest Thing” and give me your thoughts. It has a haunting melody to it and the lyrics are heavy. His entire album “Listen without Prejudice” is also a work of art. He was a tortured soul throughout his adult life, and it spilled over into his music.
I’ve made references to the band 10 years on here before. There are several songs that they wrote that just reached right inside of me. I felt that I was asked to describe my feelings and they were turned into music. Just amazing! The songs “Fix Me” and “Waking up the Ghosts” are spot fucking on! Here’s another one…the band is Papa Roach and the song is “Leave a light on.” That one hits hard. Have you ever had a moment when you listened to a song and found yourself getting emotional? Perhaps tears? Yeah, stop and think about that. Someone writes and then performs a song that touches you with so much power that you begin to lose control. I’m in awe over that kind of talent.
This is why they use so much music in movies. While we can all agree that we have our favorite actors and actresses, then of course there are great scripts or producers, but they’re all enhanced by the sound of music. Musical scores are also one of my favorite things to listen to. The movie “Dances with Wolves” has an amazing soundtrack from start to finish! Here’s a spin on a classic by Led Zeppelin. “The Immigrant Song” was redone by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross for the opening of the movie “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” I could go on and on about music and songs that speak to me. Why not take a moment and just throw a headset on and lose yourself in something that speaks to your soul.
I’ll be hopping on here a little more frequently to take breaks from my book writing. The topics will of course be all over the place, because that’s where I seem to be when I’m writing. At this point though, that’s a good thing. Things are coming out, which is the most important part of the process. Seeing some of it in print is strange. It’s satisfying yet terrifying all at the same time. I have moments where I can almost feel the “characters” again, and that creeps me out. Better days are ahead, I just know it.
I’m sitting here in my favorite spot, clicking on the keyboard as I always do. Along with typing up this blog entry tonight, I wanted to share that I’ve started writing my Memoir/book. I have a good solid five pages that I knocked out tonight. How this would translate to a book, we shall see, but there’s a lot of substance in this already. I needed to step away because even though everything is just dying to get out of me, I need time, and space when throwing everything out. I want to be careful with myself. The topic is tough and ugly. It makes me feel like I’m still sitting in the bar where this all began. I can almost smell the scent of old beer and cigarettes as I’m writing. Worse are the smells that came with the guy that ran the “business.” The food that he ate on a regular basis was powerful with garlic and onion. Greek food was something that was around me most of the time and while I know many really enjoy it, it does bad things to my head. Triggers, mental warnings of a past that I no longer want to think about.
I like the idea of just being able to roll things out as they happened. That I can be unrestricted in my content, or the manner of which I want to tell the story. It’s important for me to be able to take all of my readers through what really happened. As my counselor, Amy has said on several occasions, “I dance the line” in my blogs. Earlier on, it was more that I was trying to protect myself from the outside world. As time has gone by, there is the concern that my content is too much for what could be allowed by the company that runs this platform. I don’t want to lose my voice on here, so I dial things down, give you a very watered down version, and leave important parts out. In my book, I’m free to speak! It’s important for me to have a voice. I’ve gone too many years feeling like I didn’t have one, or that it didn’t matter. This is freedom, but with my freedom comes some pain. I’ll take that pain if it means that I can purge everything into writing.
I’m also texting my friend Amy while typing this for support. She’s reminding me to breathe and take my time writing the book, that I’m in control of my timeline. I wish so much that I could just plug something into my brain and download everything right onto the screen. I’m grateful that I can type fast, it’s helpful when trying to get things out of my head. I think that revisiting all of these places, people and events will be cleansing overall. While they have a certain amount of sting to them, I know that I can get back on the train and keep moving. I don’t have to stay there forever. No backslides!
I’ve been researching how to go about all of this and obviously I’m going the way of “self-publishing.’ I’m hopeful that I put something together that will intrigue a publisher and it will expand reading, but the main reason for doing this is to just get the story out of me and into print. I know that there are many people that are intrigued by the story and want to read it as it happened. If I have to hustle books on my own to get it into someone’s hands, so be it. I’ve also ventured into the law side of the book. It’s my belief that pretty much anyone that was involved is now gone. I know for sure that my old boss died in federal prison. He had kids though, so I’ll need to walk the line with that a bit. I’m writing it on my own using all the names, including my own right now because it’s easier to get out of me using them, but everything will be changed for the book. I’ll probably list it as a “fictional” Memoir. This will give me a little more breathing room, but we’ll see where things go once I have enough pages together.
Even with writing tonight, I felt the need to jump on here and just unload a little bit. Very wide range of emotions tonight. I’ve felt supercharged at moments and then went to tears. This will be a good process for me. I truly believe that. I already feel like I can be more myself these days. There’s something very empowering about bringing secrets to the surface, facing them, and now sharing them openly. I’ve made a promise to myself to never hold anything down inside of me for the rest of my life. It’s not worth it. I urge anyone out there that has some kind of secret to start writing, even if it just a journal to yourself. Putting it on paper or on a computer makes it real. Then, if, or when you’re ready, have others become witness to your secret. Validation of what happened to any of us is key to finding yourself and recovery. I say this to you now as a very changed man. It felt as though it was a crawl at one point during my counseling, but now it’s like I’m speeding on the interstate.
I want to say that I truly appreciate all of the love and support that I’ve received along the way. Remember that after years of hiding everything and feeling very alone had me believing that I would go through all of my days that way. Even when others were standing by me I was hesitant to accept them as caring. The question, why would always come into my head. Why would someone care about me? I understand now that I’m worth caring about.
“Not All Wounds Are Visible” This is something that is shared in the PTSD community to gain attention for mental health. I believe the stats are something like 1 in 4 people suffer from some kind of mental illness. That’s a staggering stat. While I may suffer from PTSD, and some of the events that I’ve lived through were terrible, I’m still standing. I’m still alive, and as long as that’s happening, I’ll keep sharing everything I can with all of you! I’m leaving you with this part about PTSD because I want to continue to raise the awareness that it deserves. If you see someone struggling, try to assist. If nothing else, validate that they matter in this world, if only for a few moments.
Recently at my job I had to do my yearly training for “signs of human trafficking.” I’ve been doing this annually for quite some time now, but for some reason this time it really hit home. When I think of human trafficking, I think of others, people in the outside world. Whether it’s sex trafficking, forced labor, or some other kind of abuse, it’s always been on the outside. When reading through our material and listening to the videos, something caught my attention and I found myself turning my training inward. I had a breakthrough at that moment.
My life as an underground person has always been something that I was never proud of. I looked at myself as a poor, somewhat rough kid that just happened to grow up on the wrong side of the tracks. I fell in with a man that stated he saw something in me that could enhance my life, make things “better.” Everything started out simple enough. Watching people was easy and getting paid to do so was even better. There were “lessons” that gradually progressed, both in what was expected of me and the severity that came with failure. I learned to fear this man, and knew what he was capable of. The benefits of being around him were money and a certain amount of power. I wouldn’t realize until later that my powers were very limited and almost any request that I would make came at a cost. Nothing is free in this world. The subtle way that all of this started was by design. Treat you good, pay you well, smile a lot and gain your trust. I trusted him after being around him at first. He was also a friend of my father, so I felt a connection was in place there. What I realized later, is that I’d fallen into a trap for which there usually is no way out. I became part of very structured organization that believed in nothing more than making fast money, and lots of it. I see now that I was part of human trafficking. Webster’s definition of human trafficking is this. (The unlawful act of transporting or coercing people in order to benefit from their work or service, typically in the form of forced labor or sexual exploitation.) I fit right into the very definition! He gained financial benefits by coercing me to work, in very grave conditions. Putting my life and the life of my family and friends in the cross hairs. It’s like I’d read this for the very first time during my training at work. I’d had an awakening.
I sat at my desk looking at these words over and over again. It brought about a flurry of emotions. It was almost dizzying how fast things were coming at me. I started thinking of the different things that had been done to me. Places that I was made to go. People that I had to interact with that made my stomach turn. The constant fear that never seemed to leave me. All the nightmares that had kept me from beautiful sleep, and worst of all, a huge part of my adolescence had been stolen from me. I’d been betrayed, broken and left in a void at the end…wondering if I’d stay alive at all. This opened up Pandora’s box. Everything that happened over those years of “service” and all of the damage that had been caused by it. So many things were broken that wouldn’t come to the surface until way later in my life. The relationships that I was unable to form. The people that I could never tell my secrets to. My family that had to watch me struggle in silence for so long. So much…just so much to process.
I reached out to my counselor and told her that I had what I felt was an “awakening.” This felt like the biggest breakthrough in the many years that I’ve been in counseling. I felt like my counselor (Amy) had been trying to lead me to this all along. She mentioned things like “what would’ve happened if you’d stayed in the game?” “Where do you think it would’ve progressed to?” She mentioned human trafficking. My immediate thought was, at that time, trafficking of others. It never dawned on me that I was the one that was already being used. She replied back to my text about the awakening, “yes, awakening! Glad you can see that connection of threat and intimidation!” She understood me. It’s as though she’d been waiting at the train station the entire time for me to arrive. Her reply made me smile. This amazing person cares about me and what I’ve been through. I want to take this moment to share something she wrote to me after my last blog. I’ve asked her permission, and she’s granted it.
Someday you will forgive yourself. For what you did, for who you were, for pain you caused.
Someday, you will allow your guilt to befriend your shame and awaken the fear of death and darkness.
For those you couldn’t protect. And then one day, Like the tulips in the Spring Who hid underground. Like the monsters, will suddenly emerge older, wiser, more confident Transformed.
And wisdom will spill from the moon and unite with the energy of the sun. Just like light and dark needs to be-
Exposed, Vulnerable, Beautiful, Healthy versions of male and female. Listen again…Healthy versions of male and female. Live life full of love Forgiveness, Redemption, Renewal. Now it’s time to walk the streets with peace and be open to the male and female gentle loving inspiration. ~Amy C.
From the first moment that I started to read this I could feel my eyes start to fill up. All of the things that I’ve carried, for so many years. All the crushing weight of shame, sorrow, and guilt have started to lift. I did not ask for the things that happened to me and I’m no longer a victim of these crimes. I’m a survivor!
For those that I couldn’t ever tell, I hope that you’ll understand. Those that are part of my life now, I’m finding my way, and I now feel hope. I will continue to write about all of this, as it’s a journey that’s taken so much, but a journey that I feel will have an ending of my own choice. One that has peace.
January was National Human Trafficking Awareness month. I’d like to remind everyone that there are others still out there suffering at the hands of those that would profit from the very destruction of a human life. Please be mindful of your surroundings, and look out for those that might need your help. As a Survivor of Trafficking, I can tell you that your help and understanding can make all the difference.
I recently did a blog about understanding the true depths of friendship. I wanted to carry that forward and explain some more of my feelings about friendship and the people that I choose to spend my time with. In case you hadn’t noticed when reading the last blog, I tend to lean in the direction of being around females. There are numerous reasons for this, but to cut to the chase, the main reason that I do this is because I don’t trust men. While I know that I’m “generalizing” when I make that statement, I have deep seeded reasons for leaning away from the males.
I attempted to write about this before, but for some reason WordPress’s AI assistant didn’t feel that what I was writing would pass their policies. I was somehow being offensive. I read through what I wrote several times but could not figure out what was bothersome. This just makes me want to write my book that much stronger! I don’t want to be censored in what, or how I say things. I want to be able to tell you what really happened and how I got to be the broken human that I am. There are things like mental torture, cruelty, intimidation, and on a few occasions physical abuse. None of these are pretty, and have taken much time to go back through them. I’ve spent years pouring out whatever I was able to in order to find a safe harbor. I can’t help that what I’ve been through doesn’t fit into a nice, clean and neat package with only kind words. The underworld is ugly. Things that go on out there are stomach turning to say the least. Being in close proximity with males at this time gave me a view of what life can be, and how females suffer greatly at the hands of such men. Children have no place in this kind of environment, nor should they witness abuse on all levels.
My Father was a decent man. He had good intentions with much of what he was doing in his life. He spoke kindly to most folks and did his best to make sure that we had enough to get by. It didn’t always work out that way and we struggled. Food was scarce, attention was strained, and we kids began to find ways to survive. Throughout my Father’s life he ran with numerous sketchy people. I didn’t think much of it when I was much smaller, but as I aged, I began to question the likes of many of them. My counselor had asked me at one point if I thought that my Father was involved with some of these underworld people. Oddly enough, I’d never entertained the idea, but the more that I thought about it and the more I thought about all the many characters that I’d spent time with when around my Father made me think…there might be something to that.
The time in my life when I was starting to see many of these people come around was when my Father owned his own body shop. He was an excellent mechanic and an amazingly talented painter. He built numerous vehicles from what seemed to be just a pile of junk. Such talent. The world of cars brings about some interesting people. The “average Joe”, as well as others that were looking for something. The man that would end up taking me under his tutelage was a “friend” of my Fathers. He came around the shop on a regular basis and always had an interesting story to tell. He’d come there at times with his brother, that I would later learn was the “enforcer” of his operation. I’m not sure how I fell into the trap other than the idea of making easy money at a time when money was getting scarce and food was running low. This man offered a better life for me, I just needed to learn a few things. This started out pretty easy, but quickly progressed into an ugliness that would make me hate every male that I’d come in contact with. I was so angry as time went that if I was called upon to harm someone, as long as it was a male, I was all for it. Anger and hatred built up inside of me as the years went on. I’ve said before that when you run in a world like this, there are no friends…especially with men.
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There were others that came around the shop that left me confused. We also ventured out to get parts from places and I’d be introduced to all the guys that ran these places. There was one in particular that sticks in my brain to this day. He ran a large auto parts junk yard. He’d been sent to jail years earlier, but whatever he was caught up in managed to keep his mouth shut while in prison. When he got out, he was rewarded with a rather large payday for his obedience. We’d go there to see about some parts and I’d end up wandering around looking through all of the wrecked vehicles piled everywhere to see if I could find hidden treasures. I’d always come out of there with a pocket full of change. We also went to visit another “friend” of his that ran several mini markets, among other things. His name was Charlie and he was actually a loan shark and bookie. Being around all of these dark and scary people was a lot to process. Then there were the cops. Like most kids, I was raised to believe that a police officer is someone that I should go to and trust. I learned that they are just humans like all of us. They don’t wear capes, there’s no giant “S” (Superman) on their front. They’re flawed and many are just as dirty and ugly as the men that were doing all the worst things.
If you stop to think about that as a child, or even now as an adult, it makes you feel kind of isolated. If something goes wrong, or you need help, who do you turn to? When you see something horrible can you trust the person wearing the badge anymore than the person committing the crimes? That’s what I was faced with as a young teen. Good and bad blended together into an ugly shade of gray. When you see the people that you know are friends with your father showing up at the bar that you’re stationed at, shaking hands and receiving “things” from the man that is teaching you how to skirt the law, it makes you throw all trust out the window. All of my thoughts, all of my feelings had to be kept inside. To share anything would certainly bring my young life to an end. This…is one of the main reasons that I struggle to this very day to maintain a friendship with a male.
The other part of this is that I was raised in a home with all sisters, three to be exact. I’d already been privy to how woman were treated more as a commodity than a human. So, I think it’s safe to say that I was slightly over protective of my own flesh and blood. To sit and witness different men come into each of my sister’s world that were so unworthy of their space and air was painful. I found ways to get even with as many as I could using my own resources. I’d casually stated to a few of them that I’d happily make them disappear if any harm came to my sister. This mindset is something that has also stayed with me throughout my life. I remain a vigilante of sorts for the rights and protection of women. I can’t stand by idle and watch, or be a part of any kind of impropriety that brings harm to a woman. Some of the ugliest fights or beating that I’ve taken have been from getting involved in a domestic violence situation. The worst was when I was trying to “save” a young lady outside of a bar that was being punched by her boyfriend. I started fighting with him and the next thing I know, she was on my back punching my head. Yep, that happened. It hasn’t changed my view of women, and I’d still stand up to anyone that attempts to harm a female in my presence. Character matters in my worlds.
I’ve had run ins with women over the years and two failed marriages to women that I knew who and what they were, I just felt that I could “save” them. Perhaps provide the normalcy that they desired in their world. Protection, love and happiness. It didn’t work out that way, but I’ve learned more life lessons in the process. I still trust females much more. Throughout my life they’ve always engaged in much better conversation. They nurture the relationship in a fashion that only a female can do. There have been so many that I’ve had the pleasure of sharing time, stories and friendship with over the years. I still, as you all know have numerous females in my orbit that are special to me. I think with coming through all of my darkness has also helped me to allow these friendships to happen, and with less of the feelings like “what are they looking for.” I continue to say that I’m a work in progress and it’s so very true. I do have a few male friends now, they unfortunately have/had a harder road to being around me. My wall stands tall when it comes to males, that’s still the case. I was asked the other day “what caused my PTSD?” I just said simply “I’ve seen too much.”
I want to say thanks to all of you that have had such open and interesting discussions about the topic of friendship. I’d like to take a moment to give a shout out to the females that surround me in my life now. This includes my sisters, because without them, I’d have no identity. Leanna knows (The Gray Man) I’ll keep writing and yes, the idea of a book is definitely on my horizon. I want to sit and tell you all everything, from start to finish. All the details, all the run ins, all the tears and loneliness. But more than anything, tell you how I found my way out and survived. Some stories just need to be written.
I’ve attached the lyrics of a song that really hits home with me. It’s called “waking up the ghosts” by the band 10 years. Listen and you’ll understand me just that much more.
Thank you so much for following along.
~Robert~
No one knows The secrets that I keep No one knows What’s in my head I can’t control The other side of me I have lost my breath Breaking The pulse of a steady beat Pleading for sanity The voices calling out my name Now I’m afraid That I am waking up the ghost Not digging up the memories That were dead to me Now, now I’m getting close Closer to the enemy That’s inside of me Under the skin The soul of the guilty Under the surface Lonely lies Under the weight The sin is Eating me alive No mercy No forgiveness Condemn to my own hell The voices calling out my name Now I’m afraid That I am waking up the ghost Not taking out the memories That were dead to me Now, now I’m getting close Closer to the enemy that’s inside of me I am waking up the ghost And digging up the memories That were dead to me I am waking up the ghost And digging up the memories That were dead to me Now, Now I’m getting close Closer to the enemy That’s inside of me
The zombie file 