I am a survivor of child molestation who also happens to now be, at age 42, an Agnostic gay widow with a preexisting physical and mental disorder (or 3), with plenty to say.
That's right: I have PTSD, Panic Disorder, Major Depression, Ulnar Neuropathy, Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, my Lumbar region is trashed, and my much better half passed away on December 9, 2010. To put it mildly, I'm a wreck who has no idea (yet) what it means to grieve.
I'm quite uncertain that the full reality of what all happened has set in, or that it ever will. I only know what I do from a vivid memory of perhaps too much, but it's perfect fodder for letting the world know that I don't fit in and never have. Either way, I'm not suicidal. So, I'm here whether or not you dare to 'touch me' and read my blog. I hope you will. People tend to enjoy my nuttiness, though I fully realize that I can freak people out with no warning, whatsoever. It's ok; I can assure you, I do take my meds as prescribed and nothing more unless a last resort is required.
Why the "Unworthy freak" portion of my blog title: I attempted to establish at least a verbal connection with a group of certain gay widowers on here, only to be completely ignored. It's true that my 'setting' isn't as glamorous as others who are now sitting pretty. Yet, they still have my full sympathy. All I have is a physical estate. My funds are minimal. Eventually, I will get to that...oh but don't you worry, we will indeed go there. I have lots to say. There are stories to tell, a'plenty and be assured that I wouldn't waste my time with lies. So, be forewarned: Whether or not you believe a word I say is moot. I have no reason to lie about anything.
"OK-What will you do now?", one or more of you may ask. Hey, your guess is as good or perhaps even better than mine. Noting that I've never jumped into these waters before, I have a feeling that I'll be swimming in them for a very long time to come. But, this is the hand I was dealt...for whatever reason.
I have one of two choices which I transposed from the original: Swim or sink. I have been on the receiving end of 'sink'. Here is an example of what it's like to sink after a failed 'straight' marriage while in my early twenties, and this took place in the early 90s:
Trust me when I tell you that it's highly overrated to be 6 feet tall, living in a 1983 Pontiac Sunbird with vinyl seats, and during the winter. It doesn't matter that this happened in the southeastern region. Cold as hell is cold as hell.
Imagine waking up and having to drive around in your car for at least 15 minutes or so just to get your hands and face to remotely begin thawing. After you attempt to go there, imagine getting 'showered up' inside of a convenient store bathroom (and I'm talking a tiny bathroom sink for my hair and entire body) every single morning, just to show up for work without stinking everyone out of the building. I did exactly that. My clean clothes (when I had them) stayed in the trunk.
I could have moved in with my parents, but my philosophy at the time was, "They put up with enough of my shit, growing up. Why on earth do they deserve to be put through it, again?" No, they had no idea I was living in the car, and I made sure of it. Wild days, they were.
"Oh my god! Were you on drugs???", one or more of you may ask. The short answer is yes, but if YOU ended up living in YOUR car during the winter with only a ragged bedspread to cover you and only a Toy Poodle as a foot warmer, wouldn't YOU have been on drugs? Seriously, think about that for a minute. How long could you have withstood a condition such as that without an overwhelming desire to go so numb that you stopped caring just how shitty things had become? You're free to judge, but trust me when I say that you really should try living that life before doing so. Only then can you speak from experience.
Indeed, this unworthy freak has been around and has seen plenty: Too much for most, but as I have already noted, there is plenty to say. I doubt this blog will bore you, but I also hope it doesn't scare you away.
Realize that some of us actually DID break the mold and have come out the other side very proud of it. Those of us who have should be more willing to speak up. Since I can't do that for anyone else, I'll gladly tend to, and report on my own little unworthy freak of an existence.
This blog will consist of just about every subject you can imagine, and will be an emotional roller coaster at times. One day triumph, and the next a tragedy. But, that's the way life can be...or at least mine is.
Stay tuned, folks. Here's hoping I don't disappoint.
Welcome to the blogosphere, Paul! Looking forward to reading your ramblings! :)
ReplyDeleteI'll speak up!! I know what a living hell is like. I've been there, and you and the one's who broke the mold are lucky. I can think of so many who didn't make it out of their insanity and are no longer with us. Mental illness and drug abuse combined is a recipe for disaster. I'm glad you are here waving your flag and helping people who don't really understand what it is like to come from what you did.
ReplyDeleteI can remember my low point, sitting up in a tree with a loaded rifle thinking everyone was out to get me. I was a real danger to myself and others. I overcame my insanity but sometimes it's good to look back at where I have came from and know that I will never be back.
Write on! Write on!!
ReplyDeleteAH