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[Potential 18+] Defeating an inner beast: A Semi-Autobiography (1 Viewer)

LunarFuror

Senior Member
There was a time where I was full of unbridled anger and other things, and I recovered. I'd like to tell my story.

I don't want this to come off as a sob story, but instead one of reclamation of my life. Further, I am doing this
as a reflection, or sort of meditation. It probably wont be fun to read for a lot of people, and I'll most likely
get bored and leave some things about many people and events out for sake of sanity. I'm not good at talking
about my self. But if this will help someone out there I'll do it.

From a young age I was always the "weird" kid who just did random stuff and got made fun of.
I had my friends but for the most part I was lightly picked on in school though I didn't let it
bother me, I thought. My parents divorced when I was maybe 5. Though I still see and respect
and love both of them a great amount.

Well early on, I'd say around the age of 8 or so, my mom started dating
this guy named Jeremy (names changed to protect the innocent... though this man is not innocent).
He had two kids, Lewis, and Patty. Things were good and ok for a few months but the first incident
did not take long. Lewis and I were playing, running around with this Winney the pooh pillow when
I tripped and in my flailing fall I accidentally hit him. Lewis ran to his father Jeremy, a roofer for most
his life, poorly educated, and a drinker (though not a drunk and was not drunk this time I think). His
father yelled for me and being 8 I went out, explaining I just tripped. He didn't believe me and choked me
against the wall, lifting me with one hand at least 3 feet off the ground. He screamed at me and I vividly
remember the summer sausage he was eating being spit in tiny bits onto my shirt before he threw me
across into an arm chair that fell back as I hit it. I'd say it was a good 3 or 4 feet away. He screamed
to pick it up, and there I sat, pissed pants, in fear... When my mom came to the apartment (which was
his, she was getting groceries). She asked what happened and I couldn't answer... he told her what
Lewis claimed, and I vaguely remember the rest. She doesn't remember the incident, and when
years later I brought it up to here, while they were still together, she didn't believe me.

For a long time in middle and high school my mom and step dad rarely believed anything I said.
I remember there was another time where (it was later learned) Lewis had opened some manderin
oranges and ate them in the basement without asking. My stepdad and mom had us sit for almost
4 or 5 hours at a table, until one of us confessed. Lewis faked not being able to open them so
being the largest of 4 kids I was blamed, Lewis and Patty pushed to have me confess so we could
all sleep. I didn't and at one point I remember threatening to burn the house down. They grounded
all of us for 2 weeks. I didn't care. I was about 13 or 14 at this point, and rarely left my room while
at my moms.

Here's the other thing I did still see my dad half of the week. Those were the good times. When
I could escape. Long story short, from about 8 to 16 or 17 I was stuck seeing this Jeremy person
in an abusive home slowly dropping lower, until they divorced (thank god).
I remember being in the 6th grade already thoughts of suicide.
Between then and my senior year I'd prepared to take my life upwards of 6 times, and
never could do it.
Close to the end of my Senior year I began my "recovery" but it would not be with out 2 or 3 other low points, which
are what I'm here to talk about. It is important to note that it was not till I was 19 that I had a girlfriend.
I had found confidence in some small capacity that would only grow from this point on.

A girlfriend that I had until I was about 22. She was from Detroit, I from North Dakota. I'd gone
to see her in those 3 years, and in the last two months I moved there to her. I'm sure she cheated
on me, as I looked through her phone at one point, but I don't care anymore and wont think about it.
I couldn't sleep for 2 days after that. I've learned from that experience but this is the clear point
that the demon seed was planted in my mind. I was betrayed. I grew to hate her, and her probably
now boyfriend, I never checked. I grew to think of how Jeremy and her had tore my life apart, and It's
been 22 years at that point. A pretty sizable chunk of life ruined in my thoughts at least.

My mother took a flight to Detroit, we loaded my van and drove back. I personally asked if she'd do it
and she said yes. She has always been a good mother, even apologizing for having me in the home
with Jeremy for so long at one point (not during the drive). A good thing because it's a 16 to 20 hour drive
and I wouldn't have made it home alive without her. Once home I discovered work again, and along with it
alcohol, specifically hard liquor. My poison was 32 oz rum and cokes every day after work, at least one or two
on nights I wasn't planning on drinking. Wine, and vodka shots if I was. I found another girl that only lasted
maybe 5 months, before I realized she was using me for sex only. I kicked her out of my house in anger.
At this point I had gone to a year of failed college also. Feeling like I was worthless I'd realized at some point
in my haze that rage was easier to deal with than depression. I refused to be sad anymore, I slowly became
angry, sometimes at my self. Everything made me mad. Being passive, though, I never struck a single person
or punched a wall. I resorted to taking smoke breaks, usually a half pack a day to keep from strangeling
a coworker when they angered me at Wendys. I'd go out and punch the dumpster as hard as possible. Luckily
I'm not that strong so while I never busted my hand BONES I did manage once to hit ... something. I'm still
not sure, but my right hand swelled to the size of about a tangerine becoming unusable for grabbing things
for about a week.

I remember also feeling that when I made other people's lives worse I needed to be punished. I couldn't cut
I hate knives and the feeling of getting cut. But blunt trauma never bothered me.
Eventually I "calmed down" a little becoming more normal, though still in my 2 years of raging (in my opinion) alcoholism.
I moved into the home I was in now and drank often with my roomates. I eventually became tired of my life, as it was. I
slowly started pulling back from the liquor after a night where I drank about half a 175 of rum, a full bottle of wine (downed in 2 mins)
about 5 or 6 shots, and a 6 pack of beer. Never felt worse. I slowly started realizing I couldn't sleep while my roommate partied and
blared music. The more I got off the booze the more I hated the drunk when I was sober. I still have no patience for drunk people
but I try to not let it get to me. In any case it drove my anger worse and worse. I could swear at one point I'd have
assaulted him while he was partying because my mind was on fire with rage. I have a painting somewhere of what that was like
but I can't find it. Eventually I totally quit the booze, and then I started to quit smoking for my now new girlfriend. That didn't help
the anger. She did. I never once snapped at her, and I'm happy to say we're happily together for more than a year as of this
writing. I had a different job, this was about 9 months ago, as valet. My boss didn't seem to respect me much. I had drunk roommates
that partied a lot. I was quitting smoking.

She was my only saving grace and I'd like to think she's kept me out of interactions
with the police at the time. Slowly the withdrawals from smoking faded. My roommate quit drinking also, we are great friends still
and still roommates. I managed through the art you may see around, through the love of my girlfriend, though luck, and forcing
myself to be better. I manged to defeat the venom raging in my body that ate away at my mind. Where once it felt like it coursed
through my veins, burning me from the inside out. Now I am happy. I have a good job. I have my sobriety. I am drug free.
Most importantly to me, I am a good boyfriend and man. I'm now 24. My life finally began 6 months ago.


Hopefully this wasn't too bad to read. I did less formatting and more just telling my story. I'm not good at this sort of thing when it's real though.
Thanks for reading.
 
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Mudgeon Ramblings

Senior Member
Well the writing is fine-a bit simplistic-You do need to work on the formatting. I dont quite understand how you could have 4-5 paragraphs formatted just fine and then go haywire-Were you in a rush? You have a couple of technical errors-here instead of her i remember.

But the important thing is keep all that crap in your life behind you and dont look to any of it for a reason to be less than your best. Good move with the booze-stay off it!
 

LunarFuror

Senior Member
Unfortunately I was in a rush, but it was self imposed. I typically get bored talking about my life, so I think perhaps at the end I just wanted to be done so I got out what I felt was important. That and the topic still incites a small bit of anxiety for me.
 

Misty Mirrors

Senior Member
Hello LunarFuror

I sympathise with you.
Writing about one's pain (journalling) can help. It externalizes the resentent.

I also had a very difficult childhood.
My mother favoured my older brother. I am sensitive. It hurt me very much.

My 4-year-older brother attacked me physically, emotionally and intellectually very often. He taunted me. He is a sociopath (psychopath). He often started a fight with me. When my mother came he stopped. I wasn't that clever. I continued hitting. My mother blamed me for starting the fighting. She told my father to punish me. My father had been a soldier and was very rough. He hurt me very much. Several times he threatened to cut off my thumb. I screamed.

I asked my mother recently. She denied having favoured my brother. She denied that my brother and I often fought. That upset me very much. My mother is evil.

Have you tried to go to a Catholic church?

Regards
Misty
 

LunarFuror

Senior Member
Hello LunarFuror

I sympathise with you.
Writing about one's pain (journalling) can help. It externalizes the resentent.

I also had a very difficult childhood.
My mother favoured my older brother. I am sensitive. It hurt me very much.

My 4-year-older brother attacked me physically, emotionally and intellectually very often. He taunted me. He is a sociopath (psychopath). He often started a fight with me. When my mother came he stopped. I wasn't that clever. I continued hitting. My mother blamed me for starting the fighting. She told my father to punish me. My father had been a soldier and was very rough. He hurt me very much. Several times he threatened to cut off my thumb. I screamed.

I asked my mother recently. She denied having favoured my brother. She denied that my brother and I often fought. That upset me very much. My mother is evil.

Have you tried to go to a Catholic church?

Regards
Misty

Yes actually. When I was in Detroit her family was catholic. I helped clean it while I was there and went twice. I personally wonder why people go at all, all you do is go to a place, do cardio, then apologize for not being good enough for some reason. I personally don't have a "faith" or anything, and don't believe in any afterlife or anything like that. I used to be REALLY anti-religion then I realized not caring is much easier. I worship music.
 
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