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I had a great weekend with my family. Now its back to the blog. I remember feeling confused by my moms responses to me. I thought that she loved me, and I believe that she did. But when it came time to show it, she didnt. At least not very much. She was always sick or not feewling good and I was always home. She seemed like that was the actual problem. She would lock me in my room as soon as I woke up. Sometimes I would wake up and it was already locked. I would bang on the door and cry under it for hours and she would ignore me. Then she would start telling me to shut up or I would get beat when my dad got home. It didnt matter if I was hun gry thirsty or if I had to go to the bathroom. If I peed myself, I was going to get spanked. I remember feeling like I was a bad person and that was why this happened. I started to put the responsibility of my mothers bad parenting on myself. My sisters were not punnished. They were treated with love. But I was a bad boy and that was exactly how I felt growing up. I coudnt do things right. It would be better if I wasnt born. I should go play in the street. These are the words that were spoken to me and they became my own thoughts. I began to hate myself and I wished I wasnt alive. Now being 4 and 5 at this point, my core beliefs about myself were getting set into stone. I wasnt worth it. I should just go away. That would make mommy love me more.


One night, after I had endured more abuse at the hands of my mom and sisters, I ran away. Something bad wasgoing to happen. I walked to smiths and tried to board a bus to my grandpas house. It was a mile walk. When smiths called my mom, she came down and walked me home. She brought a 2x4 and if I got close, she would swing it at me. She just kept saying you better make it home before I do or your going to get hit. An hour later my seeing eye dog jessie came home with a crushed skull that almost killed him. I will explain later the extent of the abuse around this time, but for now, lets just say that this experience changed my family. It was about a week before my mom was told what my uncle and everybody that my parents had let into the house was doing ... to ME. Its one of my first memories of my mom holding me in her lap and talking to me. It was 1 month after that when I was removed from the home. When that happened, I blamed myself too. Ill write again tomoro. This is a good time to stop writing. I dont want to go too far at once.


My first childhood memories are of my mom pushing me away from her. As a matter of fact, I dont think I can remember a lot of love from her until after all of the abuse was over and she found out about it. She would have my step dad spank me. She always made me go to bed without meals. If i misbehaved it was the end. She let her brother molest me and according to her own words, he was helping her. She didnt necessarily know what was happening. But she was also part of the problem. I cant guestimate how many times I heard her tell someone that she coudnt handle me and to just get him out of here reffering to me. My sisters got special treatment and all 3 of those girls would call me names and make me cry and then I would get in trouble for my feelings and for crying. My mother would lock me in my room for hours without water or a rest room and if I peed my pants, I got a spanking from dad when he got home. As soon as my sisters got home from school, I was let out and would pretend all was okay, but it wasnt, and I wasnt. I began to act like I didnt know how to act, and I didnt. I just wanted to be loved unconditionaly. To have consistency. To have a proud mom. A solid family. Instead I got raped for 3 years by my moms brother. I got excluded. I got told to go away and I grew up believing that I didnt matter. I grew up thinking that I was not important. I grew up feeling insecure and inferior to my peers. I grew up lower than everyone. And it was these feelings that led me to start acting out. I would wake up before my parents and go try to find food by putting my arm in a sling and knocking on doors until someone fed me. I was 5. This was when the punnishments got worse and my family locked me under the stairs for time out. They didnt own me. They excluded me, even in thier discipline. When I was finaly taken out of the home, it was just another punnishment for crying out for help. I was seperated from everyone that I loved. Nothing was familiar after that. I tried to be a good boy so that I could go home. But I never was good enough. I started to hate myself. If no one else thought I was good, deserving of love, attention, then I wasnt going to believe I did either. And so I hated myself. I drank and smoked and ran away and tried to find acceptance from sex. I stopped caring at this point and was about 6 the first time that I attempted to have sex. I had been raped for years, and that was the only time anyone treated me like I was special, so at 6, it only made sence to find people who made me feel the way that nobody thought I deserved to feel. Loved!!!  As I end todays addityion of my rant, I want to say that last night was tough for me. Having my feelings pour out like this is unnerving. But I wont stop until I get this out. One thing I noticed is that I wanted to talk to my mom. Unfortunately she died last year. So I can only feel the anger and get it out here in this blog. And so I am going to do just that.


I am tired of my feelings. I have been through hell in my lifetime. I was raped and taken out of my home at 5. I was forced to grow up in group homes and I truely felt alone. I tried to be good and right till I was 12 and then I quit caring. I felt abandoned! I used to turn to sex to deal with the emotions that I didnt know how to deal with. Now I am 33 and I dont want to go there anymore. But I dont know how to deal with the feelings that I cant even identify within myself. I just keep getting the urge to self satisfy myself for temporary relief. So this blog is to help me work through the emotions every day until I am healthier. I dont know how else to do it. I cant realy talk about all of this with anyone and I feel am so tired of these feelings resting on my shoulders every day. They are poisoning me and they are effecting me everyday. Maybe it was my moms actions and words when I was a kid or maybe that I didnt deal with all of the abuse. All I know for sure is that im over it... So the journey to my inner most emotions begins.

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