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.

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