Ok so I haven't written in a few days. I'd like to say I was busy, and I was, but that's not why I haven't written. I'm actually in a good mood, and don't particularly feel like writing about crappy stuff from my past tonight. However, I am pretty sure that the reason I haven't written is because I am avoiding talking about the thing that I shall discuss tonight. And since it apparently bothers me enough to not write about it, that's exactly what I'm going to do just to get it out of the way. And with it out there and done and over with, I will hopefully keep writing. Also note that I changed the age of my beating two posts ago. I asked mom and she said I was closer to 6 than 8, so I changed it in the post.
So more memories. I mentioned at the end of my previous posting that my grandparents lived in Hawaii for a time. I believe I was about 4 then. I could be wrong. Anyway. I still lived in California with my mom, but she would send me to visit grandma and grandpa in Hawaii for summer vacations. So I recall my two cousins playing with toy lightsabers in the back yard. I'm not sure if it was their back yard or my grandparents since I know my uncle lived in Hawaii also at some point back then. I remember being able to look out from the yard and see the ocean, so I'm pretty sure it was my uncles house, because I seem to recall seeing a giant forested valley from my grandparents back yard. But there was also a big window in the house and we would look at the navy ships with binoculars. It's all kind of a mish mash in my head, too long ago to make sense of it all. I remember chasing and catching lots and lots of green lizards, they were everywhere over there. In the showers, trees, every room of the house, you name it. They were cute, small and harmless. I think.
That reminds me of a different story. Not in Hawaii. In California, where I was raised by my mom. I think I was about 4 still. We were in a house of some sort (we moved a lot) that had wet lands near by. Or at least somewhere where frogs liked to hang out. When they hatched once a year there were tiny baby frogs everywhere for a few weeks. We would find them in the garden, back yard, sidewalks, and dozens of other places, sometimes we would even find them in the house in the bathtub or some such. Well. One evening I was playing outside and decided to see how many I could catch. I goit a clean 5 gallon bucket from .... somewhere .... and proceeded to capture as many tiny frogs as I could, the smaller the better. I even threw back some bigger ones I caught. I think I got the bucket maybe a quarter to a third full before my tiny arms could barely lift the bucket. Then I brought it in the kitchen to show mom. After being very careful not to drop it or anything (didn't want to hurt the frogs) I had set it down and mom was looking at all the cute froggies and we were discussing them and watching them in the bucket. I can't remember exactly how, but somehow, the bucket got tipped over on it side and a massive wave of froggies swept across the kitchen floor in all directions looking for freedom. The catch (inside) and release (outside) program was in full effect. For weeks. =)
I recall my grandpa chopping fresh fruit out of trees in his backyard in Hawaii and letting me eat it. I still love fresh coconut, mango, pineapple and various tropical fruits to this day. I have, on numerous occasions, eaten fresh pineapple until my mouth bleeds from the acid. On one of these trips to Hawaii, where the beach called to my grandma and she would take me and my two cousins to play in the sand and warm water, I slipped and fell. It was on a Sunday, and we were walking from the car to the sand and while twirling around parking meter poles, I slipped and skinned my knee. No big deal. But 2 hours later as we're leaving the beach, I am still bleeding, just a trickle, from my scraped knee. Must have hit a vein or something. So grandma takes me to the doctor. But its Sunday, all the doctors are closed, and I wont stop dripping. She finally finds one doctor, and he agrees to give me stitches to stop the bleeding and get us on our way. I'm not sure if my grandma knew it at the time or not, but apparently the only reason the good doctor was in the office that fine Sunday afternoon was to get completely and utterly hammered. I'm surprised he didn't amputate my leg in his drunken stupor. I still have a scar on my knee from those stitches almost 30 years later.
Which reminds me of the time I fell on a double headed cement spike. It went up into my knee, which was bent at the time, so the spike went under my knee cap, and went all the way in up to the head of the nail, parallel to my femur. It locked the joint so I couldn't bend my knee because of where it was. So I hopped over to my dad (my paternal father whom I was visiting one summer), he told me to look over there, and then he pulled it out. I went back to playing. That also reminds me of the time I got a wire coat hangar poked all the way through my foot while playing outside in the grass one summer day. Completely separate place and occasion. No idea how old I was for either of those events. maybe 10ish for the cement spike?
Warning - it gets adult level "graphic" from here down. you may want to stop reading now.
Ok, so. When I was about 6 - I was molested, I think I was about 6 anyway, maybe 7. He was the son of a friend of my moms from work, he was a few years older than me, no idea how much really, but he hadn't graduated high school yet for sure, and maybe wasn't even in high school yet, not sure. I had gone to their house often, both to play and to be babysat. His parents and my mom were, as I said, friends from work, and my mom needed a babysitter every so often for work and, I assume, for dates as well. There were a few time I recall being picked up rather late from there, and I know I spent the night more than a few times as well. There were a few times that he and his sister (who was younger than him, but older than me), would play games in and around the house that involved her kissing me, or us getting "locked" in the closet together, and other various seemingly innocent things. But I recall that at other times the games weren't so innocent, things like "put your finger in here" and other various oddities where brother and sister would end up in the closet together without me. I can only imagine now in retrospect that they were probably sexually abused themselves, but you never know, maybe they were just perverted little kids. Well, one night I was sleeping over. I was staying in the boys bed with him, as was perfectly natural and normal and innocent when you're that age. He was pretending to be asleep, and I was still awake, laying on my stomach and staring out the window into the darkness outside. He would flop his arm on me and talk "in his sleep", and I would put his arm back. I'm not sure how I knew he was faking, but I did. you just know sometimes.
So he continued putting his arm on me, and I would remove it, then he would roll over on top of me, and I would roll him back. Rinse repeat. His "talking in his sleep" was clearly meant to make me think that he was dreaming about sex. And he kept insisting, by rolling over onto me in his sleep. And I kept rolling him back. And then one time, one fateful last roll on his part, I - for some ungodly, unknown reason - gave up. I didn't bother rolling him off me again. I still have no idea to this day why. I just didn't bother. I could have easily just rolled him over again, or got up and left the room, or a million other things, but I didn't. Who knows why little kids do or don't do some of the things they do? But I gave up, I was tired of saying "no", and I just caved. I don't really remember what exactly happened to be honest, but I know it wasn't anything violent, or even really "grandiose". To be honest, I kinda seem to think there wasn't even really any penetration at all. But that's not the point. The point is, I gave up, and I let him do whatever he did to me. And that's some f-d up stuff right there. It's not the actual act itself that caused the issues, at least as I see it, it was the giving up.
Now days I never give up, not when it matters. Sure I procrastinate and don't bother to follow through with certain things and don't care to finish others. But when it comes right down to it, my will is iron. I am unshakable and unbreakable in my will now. You better be able to physically beat me these days, because you don't want to have a contest of will with me, trust me on that one. I'm ok with what happened to me now. I am actually fairly open about. I don't go telling everyone I meet on the street or anything, but I'm not ashamed of it if the topic of people getting molested when they were young comes up. Same with being beat when I was a kid. The things that affect us in life make us who we are today. And I like to think I turned out pretty damn good all things considered.
So there. Next time I'll try to not mention my past at all. At least no bad stuff. We'll see how that goes.
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