My drug use.

For the last few days every where I turn I find myself thinking of drugs, explaining to others what I've done, where I've been and most of all how I got out of it. First I will start with what I've done, well the short answer is most everything but that answer never satisfies anyone. From age 12 to 16 I experimented with the usual stuff, pot, hash and acid. Nothing became a habit at that time but once I was 16 alcohol became a factor, I couldn't get enough or often enough, thankfully I couldn't afford as much as I would of liked, priorities were more on the girls I was chasing. After I turn 18 I was pretty well clean for a few years trying to be normal but at 21 it struck. I became a chronic pot smoker, that was my favorite. Unfortunately the people I surrounded myself with began to have an influence on that, before long I was willing to try anything, due to my living circumstances coke was the most available to me but after a few tries I decided that I hated snorting anything. So I proceeded to try smoking it, not good enough so crack and crystal meth came next, well needless to say that lead to some really dark places with some strange cast of characters, the things I saw in that period of still haunt me to this day. I even tried some of the variations of ecstasy and even tried heroin a couple of times.
Then one day I realized I was thoroughly addicted to the meth and experiencing a personality change within my self, I could not stand for these two things, after one last party (a four day event) I stopped everything but weed, it hurt like hell but the weed thankfully took the edge off. The hardest part though was the change in lifestyle, having to break contact with every person involved with the hard drugs, friends and family, it broke my heart. For a few years I was a hermit, pot, video games and family tragedies were all that I knew in my spare time. Those were the truly dark times but I slowly came through, and then one day I stopped dead in my tracks with a thought "I'm clean, I've been clean for a year and a half, no pot, no booze, no nothing" I was stunned for a few weeks with that thought.
Since then I have been relaxed about how I live, with the right people I have in my life I have little worries about becoming that person again, I can enjoy a few drinks now and again, the occasional joint and never with a craving for more. I am thankful every day that my addictions were all chemical based and that I never truly an addict. I would like to say that their is a cure because of my experiences but that would be wrong, I was lucky where to many that I knew were not.
I have helped a few people the last few years get clean, but who I try helping and my own experiences tell me the only truth I can speak to. Only those who are truly ready can get better, those that are not have to fight everyday to be clean. The path is as different as each individual is.

Domestic Violence

I really meant to write more often but life seems to have a habit of interfering with plans, with so much more to say it is hard to prioritize the topics and then find the time to address each one with the proper attention. Not to mention I wanted this blog to be a tool to help others and also give a window into my past for those that wish to know me in the ways that I've always had a hard time talking about. So with that said, I now wish to talk about domestic violence and a unique way that I've learned to look at the problem.

Growing up I was taught that a man never hits a woman no matter what the reason or what she does, I only broke this rule once when I was 11 years old. I was walking to school one day while listening to music on my headphones unaware that a girl was yelling at me to wait up for her, when she finally caught up with me she grabbed my arm and spun me around and slapped me really hard, with nothing more than a instinctual reaction I punched her. For a moment I stood over her mortified at what I had done, then I turned and without a word walked the last block to school and went strait to the office to await the consequences, I admitted fault without making excuses. After a week long in school suspension I returned to class, the girl in question not only forgave me but also apologized for provoking the incident, I did't understand for many years to come what she needed forgiveness for.

By the time I reached 16 years of age I had dated a couple of girls that were beaten by their ex-boyfriends, in each case I promised them that I would never hit them and promise myself that I would prove that not every guy will treat them like that. For a year and a half I was with this girl who was every thing a teenage boy could dream of except she got extremely violent every time she got mad. I can proudly say that she was the greatest test of my life and I passed although I now know that it was a close call.

Until I got through that experience I always believed in the double standard, I'm not afraid of a girl, I'm tough enough to take anything a girl can do to me, it is my responsibility not to hit a girl no matter what happens. Now while I still believe that is true but I also realized if a girl is violent it is only a matter of time, for as much control that I know I have I am fully capable of a reaction the I would regret. Since I made that realization I have never been tested again because I make it a well known fact that I won't tolerate violence of any kind in a relationship.

For a few years I thought I was either paranoid or a spineless wimp with my views but over the years I've known a few guys that lived what I did in high school only with marriage and kids. In these occasions I tried to warn the guy what could happen only to be laughed at because they thought they could handle it only to be told later that I was right after they ended up in handcuffs. In these cases I refuse to feel sorry for either person, the girl was provoking it for years and the guy refused to make the choices to prevent the outcome.

I know all the problems on both sides of the domestic violence problem and I wish I had a true solution to the problem but while I said that I do not feel sorry for a girl that provokes it, make no mistake I do believe that the problem is on us guys to solve and it starts with making a simple promise to ones self. I promise that the person that gets violent in my relationship will get reported to the police especially if its me.

When I was four and five years of age I was sexually abused by two cousins that were in their late teens, for years I denied the effects this had on me because I didn't want to make excuses for my bad behavior. From that early age I always seemed to have a girlfriend that I would spend as much time with as possible and in each case we would have a physical relationship that was far from age appropriated, basically anything our young bodies could do, we did. During this time we thought that these were just things that everyone did but yet I was puzzled that the other boys didn't want anything to do with girls.

With these beliefs I made myself very accommodating for a few people that were a few years older than me, a few times a babysitter got a lot more than a couple of bucks for looking after me and I remember that I was the one that offered and made them think it was OK. With all this their was only one person I blocked out of my memory, I knew something had happened between us but I didn't want to think about what it was or how far it went, I now know that it was a defense mechanism that kick in when puberty begun.

He was four and a half years older and in the throws of puberty and I had yet to have a sexual identity or even a concept of what that was. When it started it was me that offered to help with his frequent arousal telling him that this was just what good friends did for each other and despite the fact that he knew better his hormones got the better of him and he took advantage of it. Things would happen multiple times a day for the better part of two years until one day that I learned what the words gay and bisexual really meant, the friendship ended in that moment.

I did not come face to face with him again for over twenty-five years, most that time I hated him and what he stood for. It wasn't until after the worst day of my life that I would remember the extent of what we did together. Once I did I started to realize that their was a lot of good things that happened during that time in my life and in our friendship. In January I ran into him and I had to corner him because he tried to get away from me when he realized who he was looking at, I looked into his eyes which were filled with fear and I said "I forgive you and I am sorry for putting you in that position" When the shock wore off he broke down in tears and relief. For all these years his greatest source of regret and guilt was what had happened between us and after a long conversation that night we become friends again and I can even say that he is my ex-boyfriend without it challenging my sense of self as a straight man.

As far as my cousins I have forgave them without telling them, I don't think either one of them deserve that release. I can't ignore the fact that what they did lead to a childhood filled with love even if it was inappropriate. And I can say with conviction and pride that I never passed the abuse on to anyone that was younger than me. As far as the girls that were my own age at that time, I never had to convince them, the actions happened organically which leaves me with only one unanswered question, were those girls likewise abused before I knew them?

The worst day of my life

Can a grown man get raped, only in prison or as the punchline for a joke, at least that was how I once thought and didn't want to know of other circumstances. Then three years ago everything changed, I was in the throws of falling for a women on our third date and it was going great. As I was dropping her off at her house she asked if I would like to come in, with a heart and mind that was swimming with anticipation I said yes, thinking I hit the jackpot. The moment her front door closed my life changed forever, something hit me from behind, as I landed on the floor face down and with someone landing on top of me I knew we were not alone. Just as I started to struggle some one knelled down in front of me, grabbed me by my hair and put a knife right in front of my face. He told me exactly what was going to happen and what they would do if I fought them. The minutes seemed like hours as the two men took turns getting what they wanted, through the pain and fear for my life I knew the woman was sitting their watching the whole thing and when I was given the first chance to look at her I saw a camera. From having the greatest fear for my life I have ever known I suddenly realized I would gladly pay with my life so long as I could take the video to hell with me. I started by doing every thing I could to create a false sense of security with the two guys, thankfully it didn't take long for them to think that I was a willing participant. With their guard lowered and in a moment of ecstasy I finally struck, I fought dirty and with every ounce of anger I have ever bottled up. The passive man that would have trouble fighting his way out of a paper bag managed to drop two very strong guys, they did get in a few blows but I couldn't be stopped. One hour after I entered that house I walked out with video camera in hand. For the next week or two I was in a state of complete shock going through the motions of life, it was only when I realized that the pain I was in was not normal, in the fight the one guy grabbed my tender bits and tried to pull them from my body. For the next month I was in and out of Doctor's offices, never telling the truth of what happened, the diagnosis was a broken penis. A very painful injury that took a long time to heal, from November of 09 till January this year I was orgasm free for fear of re-injury. At the time though being clear of any of the other possible medical issues was irrelevant because the mental side had finally came through, and things got a lot darker for awhile before I could find even a single thing positive in my life for I now had to face this and everything that had ever happened to me. It wasn't until six months ago that I started pulling some positives from this experience. It will take many more posts to flesh out the positives and despite the fact the nothing will heal the scars, I can still be a better man because of them. This one was the hardest to write even though I kept the darkest details out, so in my next post I will put something in My Songbook.

The Introduction to an abused soul.

    Through out my life I have kept hidden the pain I live with, even from myself. The people I have been close to have all had the question "Why won't you tell me what happened to you?" I have never had an excuse that is good enough other than my two greatest fears, One: If I talk about it I might knock loose all the things I have repressed and Two: That the person I opened up to might condemn or reject me.

   Now I know that number two is based on insecurity but the first person I opened up to five years ago never could look at me the same again, it almost destroyed me to see the look in her eyes when just the day before there was nothing but love and I swore never again. I have since learned that fear two was a fore gone conclusion so long as fear one remained untouched 

  Three years ago I was put through an experience that shattered every mental block I had, as if it wasn't bad enough that I was broken in every way by the worst day of my life but I then had to remember every horrible thing I had been through twenty and thirty years ago. For a couple of months I wanted to die, even tried to make it happen a couple of times.

  For as long as I remember my biggest goal and driving force has been to survive, sometimes just for one more day. Things have begun to change, I want real happiness and I also want to tell my story in the hope that I may reach one person that sees an inspiration in their time of hopelessness.

  In future posts I will write about my experiences, how they have effected me and how I have made them a positive life event, this will be My Story. Other times I may write about topics that I think I might have something new to add, this will be My Metal Milk Basket(Soapbox). And I would be remiss if I didn't have an occasional creative post, My Songbook.

  The worst will come first, "The worst day of my life"