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 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
Once again this came about through numerous discussions. Do we ever really know someone? It’s an honest question that deserves to be looked into. I’ll share my feelings and then just leave the rest up to all of you to ponder. My take may be a touch different because of my background, but I’m sure there will be some similarities. Along with my thoughts of life and death, came the ever nagging question that I’ve posed as the title of this blog, Do we ever really know someone?
I’ll take a quick trip into the past to give perspective on why I feel the way that I do, or at least why I feel like I do at times. When you’re in the darker side of life and doing things that run well below law abiding, you need to be, or present yourself in a certain manner. The reason is simple, you want to stay alive. I’ve shared before that I was trained to be an observer of other humans. I was also taught to show nothing about myself. What I would show others, was only what I wanted them to see. I was able to roll through my entire high school life without a single soul knowing anything about me. Stop and think about that for a minute. Put yourself back in Junior high or High school and think about how people were. How social, how tight different “cliques” were. All the things that kids are supposed to do at that age. Now imagine being part of something so awful that if you so much as whisper a word of it, you could die. That’s what I carried back in those days. I had to put myself out there as a quiet, shy, ordinary kid. I find humor at some of the things that people wrote in my yearbook. They really had no idea, because I didn’t let them know.
We all have it in us to be less than truthful. We use our skills acquired in life to hide, or perhaps shield others from truths. In my case, I didn’t want to be truthful because there could be harm brought to anyone who might know my position. “Loose lips sink ships.” Loose lips also get people killed. I became a nonentity. Funny how even now at work I always tell people around me that I’m “nobody.” There’s truth to that statement even though I’m smiling when I say it. I learned to fade into the backdrop, to not be seen, to blend in. If I felt that someone was getting too close, or had a feeling that they might suspect something, I quickly got into the wind. Deception is something that is used, especially in the surroundings that I found myself in. These blogs are probably the most honest things that have ever come out of my body. There’s healing for me in writing all of this. You’re getting to know Zombie a.k.a. Robert. In some cases, for the very first time.
So, do you feel that you really know a person? Are you close with your family members? Perhaps you have a best friend that you tell all your secrets to. Do you feel that you really know one another? I’m not trying to make everyone paranoid, it’s just something that has come to pass in my journey in this world. I think deeply at times and this is a topic that intrigues me. Why do we not want others to know everything about us? My counselor Amy knows the most and we still work towards a full disclosure. I know that with more time and work, writing, I’ll be able to spill all that needs to be spilled. As I age, I process things differently, so there’s hope that I can see things through a fresh lens.
How about this. I’ve always said that when you meet someone, whether it’s social, work related, or a dating prospect. The person that you meet at the beginning is the “representative.” They’re most likely showing you the very best that they feel they can be. It’s a show of sorts, acting. I like to wait and see what they do when no one is looking. How they interact with others, especially when they’re comfortable. Listen intently when people talk. You’ll hear much of who they are in conversations, especially as time goes by. How they view the world and others is important. Let’s not forget animals! If someone hates dogs and cats you need to run, not walk away from them…lol!
Being a voyeur who was trained to pay attention to subtle details of other humans has gifted me the ability to spot frauds. In some cases I spot them and just allow them to be in my general area. It’s more of a “I want to see how far they’ll take things” action. There are some who, when I spot them, I call out right to their face. It’s a dangerous practice, and can lead to altercations, so I’m mindful about doing this at this point in my life. There are people who I feel have genuine goodness about them, and I want them in my “orbit.” Time is the key to all of this.
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You see, humans are so very fascinating. The way in which we socialize and maneuver through the world captures my attention all the time. I feel that it’s only fair that if I’m constantly assessing people around me, that I should be more open about myself, and here we are! This is what I’ve learned over the past few years with my counselor. I must embrace the darkness that has served me in my life. I am learning to accept some of my “abilities” that I’ve acquired as a part of me, rather than trying to distance myself from them, or erase my past. I’m also learning to show other humans who and what I really am. I know that not everyone will understand, or perhaps not want to be around me, and that’s o.k. While I do this, I try to bring attention to all the things that make me who I am. How I question everything and why I’m always guarded with my feelings. I think in the end, if you ask the question “do we ever really know someone?” If it comes to me, I’d like the answer to be, Yes.
Big topic today. This has been rolling around in my head a bunch. I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to approach it because I have views that not everyone will be comfortable with. The topic is death. Well, life and death. The approach that we take to things during our life and what influence it might have is a part of this. The end result is the same for all of us, we will die one day. What happens after that is open to much interpretation. I’ll do my best to get this to all make sense…so, hang on.
We roll through our lives at such a high rate of speed at times that it’s almost overwhelming. I do my best to slow things down and really take in all of the subtleties. That wasn’t always the case. I think we can all agree that when we’re younger, our focus is not so much on how long we’ll live, but how much fun we can cram into the shortest amount of time. The other side of that is that as we age, we find that we appreciate everything much more, including time, and our health. There needs to be a balance there of sorts. We need to stay young in our thinking so that we continue to try to do the things that make us happy. As adults, we tend to get caught up in the whole rat race and fall into ruts. Going through the motions of waking up, working, going to sleep…rinse and repeat. LOL! Now I know that things do go on in between that, but how much? What things are you still trying to do that make you truly happy inside?
I’ve always felt that work is nothing more than a means to an end. It provides me money so that I can pay my bills, eat and survive, so it’s kind of important. There was a point in my life when I was searching for some kind of “career”, and doing what I could to climb the company ladder. I found that it gave me no real satisfaction, in fact, it probably caused even more unwanted stress in my life. Trying to find the “it” that your boss was looking for. Adjusting your life to the ever changing whim of an employer is just exhausting. Do yourself a favor, do the job that is expected of you so that you can collect the check that you need, and nothing more. If you leave, or die tomorrow, the employer won’t give a rat’s rump. You’ll just be replaced by some other soul and the game will continue. I’ve always been willing to do what is required of me and I do it to the best of my abilities each and every day. That should thrill any employer on the planet. I show up, work hard, and I leave. I don’t create drama, I just get things done.
When I was younger, things looked different to me. I wasn’t sure that I’d make it past the age of 30 and that was actually a number a little higher than what I was really thinking. I didn’t enjoy my life that much and was always searching for “something.” Mostly a way out of the life that I’d fallen into. It was during those years that I was focused on surviving, yet had no fear of dying. I mean really, when you reach a certain point, dying is much easier than surviving. It takes a lot of work to survive in this world and you have to be willing to go through the struggles to make it. I had some friends, had a girlfriend or two back then, but nothing substantial. I was going through the motions and surviving. The change was coming though.
Being an adult and finding my way in the world became interesting. My desire to be a better person happened overnight and made a profound change in how I viewed the world. I always hope that others find a similar path, or at least some kind of path to change for the better. Being trapped in darkness is no way to go through this world. Once I’d parted ways with some of the folks from earlier on, I took steps to do things the right way. Once I discovered running, oh man! Everything changed for me. It was like someone had turned on a light! I’m quite certain that I’ve said it enough times to make everyone crazy by now. Running was the one thing that truly saved my life. Does that happen for everyone that takes it up? I don’t know. I do know that I’ve met some interesting people along the way who had stated that running had performed some kind of miracle for them as well. Some walked away from drinking, others quit using recreational drugs. Some had found a way out of an abusive relationship. Running has done many things for many people throughout my life thus far. “Running never takes more than it gives.” For real…
When out running, or walking, I’ve learned to really take things in. As I’ve stated before, I’m very much a voyeur in this world and running opened my eyes to things that were so moving, and profound, it could move you to tears. Sunrises and sunsets are always a favorite. Flocks of birds flying in unison can be remarkable. The sounds of the seasons…be it ever changing, each season has its own sounds and smells that must be taken in. These are the things that remind me of what an amazing planet I live on and how wonderful it is to be alive. I find every mile that I spend out on the road to be beneficial in some manner. I can leave all of my troubles or worries out there, and trade them for something better. It’s a gift to be able to run, or walk for hours. I look forward to every single time I walk out the door. Wondering what life has to show me today.
Now that I’ve thrown all of that out there. There’s a part of me that wonders how much time I have left. Is this mid-life crisis coming on? I’ve just had these feeling that I need to see and do so much, like it’s all coming to an end. I’ve not been diagnosed with some awful disease that’s prompted this, I just suddenly decided that it was time to really focus on all of the small things. Once I started having these feelings, I began reading articles that talked about the end of life. The most talked about thing that people said towards the end was “they wished they had more time.” I don’t even know how much time I have left at this point, but I feel that way already. Knowing that I still have to work to continue to support my existence makes me feel like it’s time wasted. I’ve worked hard on changing my perspective on this and trying to enjoy my job more. Not so much the job, but more the people that work by my side. I’m working harder on forming bonds with them – not something that’s been my strongest attribute. I’ve decided that if I have to be in the place, I need to make it a better place to be in. An extended home if you will. Don’t ever do the math on how much of your life you’ve spent or are spending at work, it’s depressing…lol! Yeah, I did that.
Along with these feelings about my end of life, I wonder what impression I’ve made, if any on others. I keep a pretty small circle around me, so it makes me wonder what, if anything will be remembered about me. When I leave this earth, will anything that I wrote touch someone after I’m gone? Will the conversations that I’ve shared stay in someone’s memory until they to leave this earth? I know it’s heavy stuff, but you really can’t manage how and when things are going to pop into your head. Here’s a hard one to explain. I’ve always felt that we truly walk this earth alone. I think at this point that was brought about by the damage that I suffered earlier in my life. Keeping so much of myself silent and hidden continues to bleed into so much of my thinking. I want to break that feeling and cherish all of the small things. If I’m at work, I want to have good, meaningful conversations with my co-workers. I’d like to perhaps leave my mark on them, so that when they no longer have me around, they’ll speak kindly of me and perhaps share a story of my silliness. I want this with my family as well. We’ve spent so many years fractured, that I want to make the best of whatever’s left. I think I can get there.
Reason, Season and Lifetime. This is a poem that for many years I had on the front of my refrigerator. It has to do with the different ways that people come in and then go out of your life. It gives perspective, and reassurance that they don’t always leave your life because of something you did. They simply served the purpose that they were meant to. I’ll drop it on here:
People come into your life for a reason, A season or a lifetime. When you know which one it is, you will Know what to do for that person. When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a Need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at and inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their wake is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on. Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a season. LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
I feel that this poem helps me to understand many of the relationships that I’ve had over the years. It also gives me vision for how some of them might end in the future. There are so many things that I still don’t understand. The only thing that I’m sure of at this time is that I want to live the rest of my life to the fullest. The loss of my mother was a changing point in my life as well. She lived with so much regret about her own life that it made me sad for her. My father was much the same. He chose to push away so many who were close to him that when he became immobile, he was bitter at the world, and felt that no one was left to care about him. Watching them in their final stages of life gave me pause. I needed to change directions so that I wouldn’t have the same fate or feelings. Death will certainly find us all, but we can do our best to dance and sing until it arrives. Be joyful in our own skin, and walk each day as though it really matters…because it does.
In closing I’ll just say this. Nothing is more important than your happiness. Find what it is that truly makes you happy and go do it. Talk, laugh and sing with those that you surround yourself with as often as you can. If you must sit at work, than do everything you can to make it more enjoyable for yourself. It might even carry over into others. Who knew that work could be a fun place to be? When death comes for me, I want to smile at it, and say it’s alright now, I’ve done everything that I came here to do.
This has been a busy week on the counseling front. I managed to get in two sessions within a couple of days, which was very helpful. I said some of the worst things, out loud, and in front of someone else. I have a witness of sorts to some, but not all of what I’ve gone through. Conversations that I had that torment me to this very day. Threats, manipulation and grooming were items covered. I had to look within myself, honestly and speak truth. I sat before someone that I’ve grown to trust more than just about anyone in my life and emptied my soul. She (Amy my counselor) has listened without judgment for years. She’s seen me regress at times, shift back to a child at moments, and has guided me through so many dark alleys. She has never wavered in her support, and has always believed that I’d be whole again, safe from everything. Her words have stayed with me when I’ve felt myself slide backwards. It’s been there when I stopped believing in myself. It’s been there to teach me to that what I really am through all of this…Is a survivor.
The emotional toll that trauma can have on the body and mind can be tremendous. There have been times that I’ve left her place and struggled to even drive myself home. On numerous occasions, I’d leave there and go to Meijer and just walk around. I’m not sure why, but there’s something about just doing an “ordinary” thing after such discussions that grounds you. It brings you back to the present. It’s become kind of a joke when I say that I’m doing my post therapy walkabout at Meijer. Some sessions can be so intense that I just really need to shut down and breathe. When I talk about going to therapy/counseling with others, I like to say that I feel everyone could benefit from time speaking with a trained professional. It’s true. We all have secrets that we hide. Secrets that are possibly causing further damage as we age. Secrets that need to reach the surface, be looked at safely, then put away in a manner that will serve our mental health in a positive fashion. In some cases, secrets that just need to be shared so that an objective person can explain clearly to you that it was not your fault. Free you of the burden of having to carry such things around for the rest of your life.
I’ve learned much sharing space with Amy. I’ve learned to pay attention to my body when I’ve been triggered. To pay attention to my breathing and try to be present with it. I need to be kinder to myself and above all, forgive myself. One of the things that I’ve learned of late is that my darkness, along with abilities that I’ve gained through life events have served me well. They’ve kept me alive when there’s no reason that I should still be walking. They’ve given me the gift of sight…the ability to see things that most would never pay attention too, both good and bad. Almost like an intensified vision. I believe that I’ve referred to this before as being a witness to events in the world. I’m seeing things because they need to be seen, or witnessed. Rather than always looking at myself as bad, or evil, I just look at all of it as just a part of me. The two wolves become one.
I don’t know where the rest of my life will take me, I can’t see that good. I know that there are still things that could be discussed, but for now, I’m going to just be. I know that Amy is just a phone call away, and for that, I’m grateful. I don’t want to fully rely on her, but rather accept the tools that she’s gifted me with. The idea behind sitting with her has always been to walk on my own again. I don’t fear falling down as much as I used to now. I also know that if I do fall, I can get back up and will be alright because I choose to. Life is full of choices, Lord knows that I’ve made some interesting ones during my younger years. Through all of it I’ve remained driven to be something more. To be better…always. Even during the darkest of times, I was driven to find a way through, then out! It’s no different now. I make choices each day to continue.
I always copy Amy in on everything that I write. I’m guessing like many of you, she’s fallen behind. Sorry folks, I have so much still to write about. I think I needed to take this time to say Thank you to her and have all of you as a witness to that. She’s a humble and gracious person and I’m sure doesn’t expect anything like this. There have been a couple big moments in my life that were life altering. Two of the biggest were this. The day that I went to Pearson park to walk and decided to start running. I’d gone there originally with all kinds of wild ideas in my head. I wasn’t sure if I could see a path forward at that time and the next thing you know, running found me. I’ve had a wonderful relationship with running ever since that day. The second was meeting my counselor, Amy. She saw something in me that I couldn’t, or wouldn’t see in myself. She guided me down roads that I didn’t want to travel, only to come out on the other side a better person. She’s sat with me while I cried, both tears of pain and joy, and listened to everything. It’s these moments, people, events that have made me see that I have value. I don’t think that I’ll ever be alone again.
I’ve been referencing sleep, dreaming, nightmares and the eyes in quite a few of my blogs of late. Sleep has been a distant memory for me. I honestly can’t recall when I slept soundly, or without some kind of nightmare shaking me awake. I’ve learned over time to adapt to my situation by just simply learning to fall asleep whenever I have the spare time. I guess that I don’t feel there are really any rules when it comes to sleep. We believe that our bodies should lay down when darkness takes over the sky. In a perfect world under ideal circumstances that might be the case. For many of us “night crawlers”, it’s a different way of life. Darkness might mean we become recharged, or perhaps some even anxious. There are so many reasons for sleep issues, so I thought I’d take this time to talk about it.
I do have a few memories of being very young, and resting peacefully on the floor in our living room with my blanket covering the heat vent. The warmth that it provided was so comforting. It didn’t matter if I had a pillow or even cushions to rest my body on, I was comfortable, and sleep came easy. I’d do a similar thing in the summer months by taking a sheet, placing books on all corners of the sheet, and then on top of the fan and turned on the fan. It became the most beautiful dome of cool air. I’d climb inside with my head towards the fan and just drift away with the sounds of the fan and the cool breeze blowing against me. Each of these things were as though I’d built my own nest. A safe place to rest, with no worries and plenty of comfort. I think back on those moments now and realize how gentle I was, how carefree. Only beginning on my journey through life.
Fast forward some years and sleep became harder to find. Discomfort caused by insecurities. Worry and wonder as to where life was leading. It was no longer a thing to climb under my blanket and leave the world behind. The world had come for me and I was just learning how to deal with it. People and places were now changing the landscape of my childhood. Darkness was no longer just about the evening hours, but part of everyday life. It was during this time that I started to find ways to sleep wherever and whenever I could. I had to make sure that I was safe, and that was critical to being able to shut down. Think of watching an old Western movie where you have a cowboy out in the middle of nowhere laying with their head tilted on a log, perhaps by a fire. That’s kind of how I felt. You always had to have one eye ready, watching, able to react to the slightest movement or sound. The wolves were out and prowling all of the time, so you had to be ready. It’s at this point that sleep would become a very distant friend to me. One that would be greatly missed for many years to come.
I still have the habit of dozing off wherever I can. When sleep is not a guarantee, you have to maintain your body in some fashion. The best way to do that is to allow it to rest when a moment presents itself to you. There are no rules to any part of this game called life, and that includes with sleep. When I know that most of my sleep during the evening will be broken up by reoccurring dreams, or some other type of night terror, I do my best to find those moments. The moments when you can just shut down, even if it’s only for 5 or 10 minutes. During the Covid years I brought that back into full swing due to the unbelievable amount of stress and concern that the entire world was feeling. I’d go out and walk alone or with my wife and return home where I’d set out a blanket and pillow on the living room floor and just nap. Extra rest was needed during that time and since I was already in a deficit on most days, this was the best thing for me. If someone says that they can’t take a nap because then they won’t sleep at night, I always chuckle. There they are, trying to follow the invisible rule of sleeping at night. Yes, it’s better for the body if you follow that clock, but when other issues stand in the way, you do what you have to do to survive.
There are a few times that I’ve found myself able to sleep somewhat better. I tend to sleep better when we visit the Smoky Mountains. I’m not sure what it is…I guess it’s true that there’s some kind of magic in them hills. I feel more at peace there than just about anywhere I’ve ever traveled to. Knowing that my mother resides in the mountains is an extra added bonus. She can keep watch over me and make sure that I’m safe. I think that’s something that every person wants, or wishes for regardless of their age. Even with the turbulent relationship that I had with my mother at times, she was still my mother, and mothers mean safety. “Mother is the name of god on the lips and hearts of little children.”
One of the tattoos on my body is an eye on my right arm. The reason for this eye – it’s the ever watchful protector on my skin to keep me safe from harm. While I “shut down”, the eye takes over and keeps watch so that I can’t be harmed. May seem silly to some, but to me, it’s real. I’m finding now that as more of the ink penetrates my skin, I’m more shielded from those who would harm me. I have no explanation at least one that would make sense to most people, it’s just how I feel. I suppose we could look back to that child and the blanket, or with the sheet over the fan. There was something protective about that as well. A cocoon where slumber came easy and worries were set free.
The more that I write, I’m finding that parts of my anxiety about my life are softening. I want so much to shed all that I carry with me. I was talking about it today with my sister Leanna. While I felt stressed trying to explain events in my life that even she wasn’t aware of, I needed to try. I have to push everything to the surface so that the light can take it. With each word that I attempted, I became constricted in my throat. It was as though a part of me was saying “NO, you can’t tell this…it’s too much!” The many secrets leave me feeling so alone. While the fear of physical harm has faded, there’s a different concern that’s filled its void. How will I be looked at by those who surround me? Those who matter the most to me. I’ve shared so much with my wife and yet there are still things to get out. I feel so close… so close to freedom. I’ve thought that if I reach that point, I’ll probably drop and sleep for days on end. That child from so many years ago is standing there waiting for me. I can see myself, so small, so bright eyed and full of hope. So rested and carefree. Asking the adult me “when can we sleep?” I’m almost there, I just have this last bit to get through, and then sleep will come.
“Sleep is an essential part of life-but more important, sleep is a gift.” William C. Dement
I wanted to say in my close today that I so appreciate all of the discussions that have come from my writing. While I’ve always said that I write for myself first and foremost, I’m always hopeful that someone out there can relate. That someone will understand what I’m saying. I’ve expressed my desire for others to read these blogs and not feel alone, probably because I’ve spent so much of my life in secret, and feeling very alone. You can fill a room with people, and those people can care for you, even love you, but when you harbor dark secrets, it’s as though the room is empty the entire time. No one really knows me, but now you are all starting to. This has been a painful journey but one that I needed to travel. I hope that you find slumber tonight. I’m almost there.
The zombie file 