I’ll start off with my first memory of life; I was in an infant carrier (this is a memory from years of meditation on the event mind you) hearing my parents argue and not really being able to see much but remembering I felt like I was the cause of the tension, no words were specifically remembered just the tension thickening the air. Growing up I had issues from the start, from stories told by my family I was already fairly codependent by the age of 3 because they had to lock me out of their room at night because Id wander in after going to sleep. For three nights my mother told me I would bang on the door and scream/cry for them to let me in. By this time in my life I remember very well the fights and physical/verbal abuse from my father which from then on caused a rather deep and large resentment towards him. When I turned 4.5 years old, they decided to get a divorce. My time was split between the two by a 60:40 ratio favoring my mother so she could still get child support. Life began to become easier for me, or so I thought, when I found out I was really good at manipulating my parents. This also began breeding the “chameleon personality” where I could change my personality depending upon who I was surrounded by.
My father was very strict with unobtainable standards to which I had to adhere. My mother’s loving admiration of her only son played the opposite role of my father’s rigidity. During my childhood my family had several friends with whom they kept in close contact. Their primary friends had a son who turned out to have an affinity for sexual abuse. It was at that time I found my first victim role; I didn’t tell a soul until about age 16. Moving forward through life I never really fit in after keeping that secret, I was very well educated and a quick learner but the clique’s never really meshed with my personality or the ability to change them. I was a “troubled student” with such a “bright future” if only I could find the perseverance I can remember a teacher saying in one of the many parent teacher conferences.
At ten years old, I finished my first beer at a house party I went to with my father. After drinking, I fell in the pool while trying to walk and everyone thought it was pretty funny. I got my ass beat the next day. That initial feeling of carefree and happiness stuck with me and I eventually conditioned myself to associate that feeling with alcohol. In Middle School, I used to go to a friend’s house overnight to smoke some weed and have a few stolen beers. Eventually, my friend found his parents or brothers pill stash so we experimented with those as well. In High School, I found my first dual codependent relationship to use as validation for my existence. Through this relationship I became somewhat abstinent with drugs and alcohol for the sake of keeping the relationship. In High School, I actually achieved fairly decent grades and gave some effort towards education and wound up with all advanced placement courses earning college credits while there. Throughout all of these occurrences and the relationship I compounded the aforementioned mental conditioning and psychological nuances in my character.
Violent outbursts began to appear alongside the blackouts whenever I would drink, which at the time was about twice to three times a year. At this point, I was already drinking to forget my past and the feelings of unworthiness brought upon me in childhood. The relationship was always rocky and in one of the more treacherous times I put a Sig Sauer pistol in my mouth at 16 and pulled the trigger. I was shocked that even after I heard the hammer drop there was no loud crack signaling the end of the pain. I went through my memory of checking the chamber to make sure there was a shell ready to end my existence and remembered to slide the selector over to the fire position but upon further investigation a few seconds after the failed suicide attempt I found there was a secondary safety which blocked the hammer from falling upon the firing pin.
I broke down that night and my parents came home to quite the distraught teenager. I finally told my mother about the sexual abuse from earlier in my life, the response was to go to a therapist. At this age, I had already mastered manipulation and thought of myself as a sociopath. In the throws of pain and resentment that night I had made my first attempt at a cry for help but upon the realization of the truth I receded back into hiding and acting as if it was ineffectual to my current life. Going to therapy a total of three times to “talk” I had achieved a sense of normalcy in the eyes of the therapist and my mother. I didn’t speak of the abuse again until getting into recovery. Fast forward to college years when my romantic relationship ended and heavy narcotics and alcohol really took a hold on my life. I wound up getting a scholarship for any Florida University that I could get into, and gave up said scholarship after cutting a finger off at 18 years old. That was the second predominant victim role I found. Through an unfortunate coincidence in time I dropped just enough classes to fall out of health insurance coverage and followed that with an accidental amputation costing north of $60k.
I gave up at furthering my life right at that point, thought I had attained a level of failure deeming surrender acceptable. I moved into an old friend’s house and began to sell drugs to fund the use of harder drugs. Spiraling down, the disease took ahold of my life and after a few years I found myself homeless bouncing from couch to couch at different parties and trap houses injecting anything that I could dilute into a needle. I started selling cocaine to even my mother after she found a few of us using in a room she kept incase I’d wander in. On June 20th 2012 I was arrested on 3 sales and 3 possessions of cocaine within 1000 feet of Cape Coral High School. My first thought was a total release of tension and surrender, the chase and run was over I thought and I knew life was about to change.
I entered drug court and did extremely well for reasons not known at the time and eventually through some searching I found out I was using the meetings and recovery in general as validation. This external validation theme will become important later. Two years I stayed clean and sober heavily surrounded by recovery and enmeshing myself into servitude and commitment. I worked my steps with two different sponsors and even helped start a recovery meeting for a spiritual halfway house known as Job’s House. Slowly through complacency and laziness the importance to live began to slip away. My validation was failing and trying to talk about it was ineffectual. I stopped praying and meditating, then changed my job and tried for a change in surroundings and responsibility, tried to find validation in career and in a new relationship; all of which failed along with my recovery. The pain had returned and my self-worth was the lowest in several years. I began drinking daily but never picked up another needle again, cocaine occasionally but mainly alcohol and marijuana daily to numb my reality away.
On the 11th of July 2015, I was accused of two hit and run accidents in Ocala Florida after a river tubing adventure and hospitalized after stating I had no memory of hitting two vehicles. This piqued the interest of my half-brother who is a very successful businessman with connections galore. He did his own research and figured an intervention was needed in my life, flew down and made everything happen. He paid out of pocket for the treatment center to take me in and let some healing take place. This was my first experience with an inpatient treatment facility, which granted me the time and freedom necessary to step back and really review for myself my entire life. Negating all responsibilities of life after quitting my career in commercial diving, paying my car payments in advance and getting everything in order allowed me to fully delve into the consciousness and detangle the mess that was my brain.
The classes offered all the way from MRT to the Yoga lessons were of utmost importance to a balanced searching and understanding. Rehab in essence was the “break’ lasting just long enough to really figure out the beginning of the disease and understand that it wasn’t such a bad disease, albeit a painful one. I learned how to forgive my abuser and look through a different set of eyes, as I’ve never before. I was able to see the fraud I used to be and become at peace with my past. The knowledge of reason was bestowed upon me through letting go the judgment of self and others. I finally understood the reasoning for all of my past. I was abused to be able to get through and help others in pain. I manipulated to know the value of trust. That same principal of thought now reigns through my life. There is a reason for everything. If you concede to the notion of first accepting that it was a necessity for some purpose at some time. A new appreciation of life was found and a foundation was built upon that appreciation.
In Rehab, I found purpose and drive to be who I’ve always wanted to be. That brief respite into a world filled with people just like me and others who had some answers was the push back into trying I might not have ever had. I learned there the psychological effects of my mother and the surroundings of my upbringing. I learned about boundaries that I needed to implement and the reasoning behind the resentment towards my father. I gave it all up and was able to bare my soul to the depths never before giving me the healing as never before. This has all been compressed and quite a few things were overlooked but the important parts are there. I hope it helps.
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