My Reality

Posted: April 15, 2013 in Uncategorized
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I’ve not got any readers or fantastic followings. My circle of friends and relatives are relatively small and I would in many ways consider myself a typical person, however, the more I think about it the more I realize that the term ‘typical person’ is far from one that could truly represent anyone.

You see, whether we like it or not from a young child; in my case aged three, we hold memories of which shape us and build character. The strange thing is, some of the memories we have of a young age aren’t even defining moments in our lives, but instead may have simply been something our parents said, or an experience that at the time was a big deal, but thinking back was very incidental. It’s very hard to know what experiences and hardships shaped our life as we get older although I’m sure many can relate when I say there are certainly experiences and memories that still haunt us today and most certainly shape and alter us in their many ways.

I for one started life in what I believe was a normal family, a normal upbringing. I would get walked to school by my mum and after school would play with the kids in the street, get dirty and just do what kids do. These memories of my childhood are fantastic ones and I’m quite fond of them for their innocence and raw enjoyment of life. However, this wasn’t always the case. My parents started fighting and life turned from what I knew as normal, to a life of mental torment and destruction. We moved to a small island south of Australia where we lived for 2 years. I’m not sure why this move took place, but I believe it was because my mum forced it upon the family with threats that she would leave us behind and go herself. During this 2 year period life was surprisingly good initially. School was great, friends were great, family life was pretty good. As a kid you only see things for as they are and as I grew older, I learnt to lift the sheets of ignorance I had laid across my eyes. My mother was an addict and it was affecting my parents relationship with one another. Little did I know that things were set to get far worse than I could have possibly imagined.

My grandfather died and mum flew to the funeral. This would be the last time I saw her for about 2 months. Later in life I found out that the funeral wasn’t all what it was supposed to be, but instead my aunty and mum fought along with my cousin about their rough past of sexual abuse. Whilst the information I have is second hand, I doubt my mother would ever get to the point in life where she will openly talk about anything let alone apologize and accept any mistakes she’s made in life. We moved to Western Australia and settled there. I started going to school and found people to be very different here. I got bullied a fair bit and just could’t find a way to fit in. The climate was different, roads were more congested and it just appeared to be more of a rush rush location. Mum soon came to live with us after dealing with the raw emotion of the funeral, however, things got worse. In less than 12 months I learnt to hate my mum and her drug habits as well as how it impacted on my family. At aged 11 all I wanted to do is try and break my parents up. At age 11 no one should think such a thing. This whole ordeal took a toll on my mental state and with the daily yelling and screaming, drug habits and a mother that was bed ridden because of it, I found myself struggling to enjoy life as a typical 11 year old. My mother decided she would leave and so she jumped on a plane to the other side of the world and left her kids, her family… basically everything behind.

I didn’t see my mum for 14 years after that. The word love was thrown around upon her visit back to Australia, a word I struggled to connect with her any more and to this day struggle to even consider using the word as well was the word mum when describing her. I couldn’t fathom losing my mum at aged 11. The fact that I didn’t lose her to injury or illness but more from her wanting to get on a plane knowing she was leaving her kids behind never sat well with me. I went on to live life and learn from all of life’s experiences without any aid or assistance. I didn’t have anyone to talk to and my dad was so caught up in trying to keep a roof over our heads as well as help us that I couldn’t go to him with anything. I didn’t want to feel like a burden. After all, my dad just lost his wife as well as all his superannuation and has to work every day to feed 4 kids whilst keeping a roof over our heads. There were days where I’d walk into the lounge to loud music and my father in complete tears. The last thing I needed as to go to him with my problems that would otherwise be minor compared to what he was dealing with. Instead I felt the need to hug him and comfort him in any way I could. I always considered myself far more mature than my age. I went through things and some how managed to piece things together that no one else my age normally would, and so I pushed all my issues in life aside as a child to be at my dads side as he did for me for so many years.

Sure enough I grew up to a completely broken family. My sister hated me, my brother wanted to be everything I am and I pushed him away. We were completely out of sync and disconnected as a family. It was like playing country music with heavy rock in the same room – it just never worked and so it was a constant battle for our family to keep moving forward. The efforts of my father to not only keep a roof over our heads, but slowly build himself back up to run his own business and live a comfortable life again with another woman are never going to be forgotten. I have complete admiration for him and whilst he isn’t aware, he’ll always be my hero in life and this is the sole reason I battle on with out working relationship in order to help him succeed when that success was otherwise taken from him.

I’m now 27 and am now faced with having to deal with all these emotions that I’ve locked up and buried deep in side of me for 20 years. Suffice to say, I feel alone and completely empty. I have no one to go to, no where to turn and just feel like a lost cause at the best of times. Why though? I have a wonderful wife, family of brothers and sisters, my father and grandmother who are always going to be there to support me. Why do I feel alone?

I’m now running both my fathers companies and am do so to help and support him and my family. I’m doing it to give back the opportunities that were given to me. I’m here helping in a complete selfless manner and it’s taking it’s toll on my mental state. I couldn’t feel any more alone than I do now.

All hope is not lost though. I refuse to give up. I will seek help and have recently found my ability to express myself through writing. Here I sit for the first time letting go of the pain as I write. Letting out some of the hate and aggression that has built up within me over the years. I have so much to say, so much pain and raw emotion built up inside of me that I feel if I can get it all out of me, maybe someone out there can relate. Maybe someone can read what I’m writing and I can help them as much as I’m helping myself. I found my voice and I will keep that volume set to high. I shall shake the windows, rattle the dust off the window sill while the spider in the corner weaving it’s web struggles to stay attached. I shall fight my burdens and grow as a person. I am my own maker and I shall lift this weight off my shoulders and move forward.

I wrote the above back on the 15/4/2013. Reading back on it upsets me quite a bit. I in all honesty don’t know how I managed to keep myself together, however, I’m since married and have a child on the way. All of a sudden life has turned a new leaf and I’m building a life of a child of which I promise to be better than my own. My wife, my wonderful wife never fave up on me, she never pushed me or tried to change me. She never stopped me doing what my heart desired and in many ways is the rock or anchor in my life I long sort. I’ve always been an open book to her and I hope she knows this. The problem is, I feel like she doesn’t understand my past all that well and I feel strongly that if she did that maybe she could understand me so much more.

The problems I battle with today is to be comfortable with myself be it in the form of fitness, activities I participate in, or even the people I surround myself with. I’ve told her so many times how I don’t know what I want to do etc, yet even today I can’t seem to get a lock on that one thing in life that will bring me to earth and leave me feeling 100% satisfied with myself. I’m hoping that when my child is born and perspective is put in-front of me, maybe I can get a clear picture of what that is. That’s not to mean I’d love my child any less if I didn’t, it’s just another way to help me along my path of self understanding.

I envy my wife more than she’ll ever understand. She grew up in the perfect family. Don’t get me wrong, every family has it’s problems but even today her parents remain together and she grew up with a normal childhood considering what I went through. How could I possibly expect her to understand or relate to my problems? I feel like if I can get my whole life on paper (impossible) from my upbringing to the things I had to go through, then maybe my wife will respect me so much more than I feel she does now? I don’t know, I just feel like when I tell her these things that it’s shrugged off as just one of my moments rather than something that is otherwise deeply important to me.

One thing I know for sure – I love my wife with all my heart and I love my child of which is yet to be born with all my heart. I’ll do my best to build a life for my family and support my family at all costs and I’ll do my best throughout life to be at peace with my past and myself and be happy with what is in front of me rather than reflecting on the past.

To my beautiful wife Jasmin, I write this for you, my true love of whom without in life I may not be the person I am today. I love you more than life itself and I hope that reading this will help ever so slightly to understand me.

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