restin

I deserve alot worse than I've received, I am truely fortunate. Although I find myself in situations where I could complain, I rarely do. The thoughts of those less fortunate than myself are a constant reminder of no matter how bad I feel or how terrible a situation may seem; it can always get worse. I grew up in with two parents who hated each other. My only recollections of them together involve the two of them screaming obscenities or co-habitating in utter silence. Sometimes I would ask my dad where we were going, and he would reply, "to take the old horse to work". He was referring to my mom of course. Her favorite phrase for him was, "you bastard". I never saw them together happy but I never saw them become physical with one another. My parents weren't hitters, and for this I'm greatful. At the early age of 3 my mother was working at The Million Dollar Saloon ( a topless bar in Dallas ) and fell down a spiral staircase causing her back to be broken in two places. As if that wasn't enough, when the doctor operated on her he damaged her even worse causing my mother to become incapacitated for over a year. One day when I came to visit her in the hospital I asked, "who is the lady sleeping with dad in your bed?" That brought on their divorce. She spent the next year in different hospitals and rehabilitation clinics attempting to undo what had been done to her back. My dad's desire to be a truck driver and his longing for whores and alchohol by far surpassed his love for me, so I spent the next year in foster homes and at my Grandma's house. My grandma, my dad's mother, would often pawn me off with people she barely knew, so they could babysit me while she would run errands and such. One day while alone with the babysitter, and I remember this as if it just happened, I made a mess in my pants as little boys of 3 years old sometimes do. The baby sitter I was with at the time, a member of my grandmothers church who was in her 20's, decided I needed to be punished for having an accident in my pants. At first she made me feel on her naked chest and then I spent what seemed like hours, going down on her. I remember my neck hurting and asking if I could stop, but she kept saying, "not yet". Later that evening when I told my grandmother what had happened her response was simply, "honey, why would she do that to you?" She very easily dismissed the idea that anything had happened to me. While I was just six years old my mother and I were living in an all bills paid apartment complex that was nothing more than trash, along with alot of the people who also lived there. My dad was off in Houston living with his mom and working the graveyard shift as a gas station attendant. For my mother and I our only form of transportation was an electric wheelchair. We had no car and my mother could still barely walk. My dad refused to send child support or help in any way, but still my mother stayed strong for me. I remember seeing her cry from time to time. I now know how hard it must have been for her, not having any help and no way to work while taking care of a little boy. We were poor and sometimes could barely afford food. There is a service for the poor and elderly called meals on wheels. For a long time I remember coming home from school and their would be one of those meals waiting for me. My mother would tell me everyday to eat it, that she wasn't hungry. Here it is 20 years later and I understand completely that she was going hungry to feed her little boy. It puts a lump in my throat as I think of how she put me before herself and how much she really did love me. There were a few times my dad took me out. I recall several times us going to the bar together, back then parents could bring their kids with them. He would always ask the bartender to give me a shotglass filled with marichino cherries so I could eat as he became inebriated and picked up whores. Once, and I remember this like It was yesterday, he took me to a drive in movie with one of his girlfriends and her daughter. They made the two of us sit down in the floorboard of the single cab pickup truck we were in. I remember it being so hot, like desert heat with no wind and no water. There were a few times I just had to stand up so I could breathe. Immediately he ordered me back down. I didn't know it then but now I can see clearly that I had acompanied he, his date and her daughter to a drive-in porno movie. I also recall a time when I watched from the backseat as he deeply french kissed some girl. I asked what he was doing to her with his tongue and he said he was looking in her mouth. My dad didn't really talk to me much when we were together. One time he told me that he had a surprise for me and me being the anxious and excited 4 year old that I was, I kept asking for it. The last time I asked him if I could have my surprise he pulled out a bag of sour cherry candies. Frustrated and angry, he threw them at me hitting me in my mid section and said, " here, there's your damn surprise ". My feelings were crushed. Even though he was rarely around me I still looked up to him like he hung the moon. So I went outside, head hangin low, sat down by myself and ate my cherries. It felt as if he just didn't like me. One day after walking myself home from first grade ( I had been walking myself to and from school since kindergarten ) my mother told me that my dad had been killed. While he was working in that Shell station in Houston, a man came into the place, crept up behind him and smashed the back of his skull in with a creseant wrench. The man then stabbed my dad in his heart and lungs 11 times and proceeded to cutting his throat wide open. ( The man who murdered my dad was sentenced to 20 years in Huntsville correctional facility and will be eligable for parole sometime this year ) When I turned 9 my mother and I moved from the apartment life to the ever so glamourous, trailor/mobile home life down in Venus TX. At that time the small town of 500 people only had one stop sign and it said, "whoa". That was a joke. I didn't do very well in that country school where cowboy boots and Dr. Pepper were 2 of the most popular things. I was in trouble most of the time, you see I didn't know how to behave and apparently no one knew how to help me. I spent a good deal of time in ISS, or in school suspention, confined to a desk facing the wall where I was allowed no interaction with other children. When I would get out and go back to regular classes I would quickly get sent right back. This went on through 10th grade until I was sent to correctional boot camp, to shape me up. I studied hard while I was there and got my GED. When I was 14 I tried marijuana for the first time. A local kid from down the street brought some over one day. When faced with a lack of things to do and excessive, sometimes overwhelming ammounts of boredom , the decision to smoke was made easy. I don't smoke anymore. My mother worked nights and that left me with zero supervision. That year I met my first real girlfriend and started to get into more trouble than ever. After I got out of bootcamp I decided to go on this huge Jesus rampage, preaching the gospel to anyone who would hear it. I was going to college to be a pastor for the youth. I wanted to help people avoid the life I had led thus so far. I managed to get one of my ex-girlfriends pregnant when I had just turned 17. 18 months later I married that girl. We fought most of the the time much like my mother and father had. Through the duration of our 6 year marriage we had three kids together. When I was 21 I started my own business repairing door dings, small dents and hail damage on cars and trucks without any paint or bondo. This process is called PDR and is an amazing alternative to repainting. There was a huge hail storm that hit in Missouri in April that year , so I made the 14 hour commute and set up shop. While I was up there my mother made the decision to commit suicide. She ingested an entire bottle of pills, left a note blaming me for her decision and left this world forever on 07-14-2001. God rest her soul. My marriage continued to fall apart. My wife and I, only 21 and 20, were merely babies attempting to raise children and develop a family in a horrific, grown up world. The fighting, name calling and arguing became exceedingly worse until the day she told me to get the hell out and never come back. And I did. At age 23, so far I had become a victim of sexual molestation, losing my dad to a violent murder, losing my mom to a pain that overwhelmed her to the point of death, married and divorced with three children. I have alot to complain about, if I chose. But I do not. No, instead I am thankful that I have made it this far. I am thankful that I believe in Jesus and He has changed my life, I am everything I am because of Him. I am thankful for every day above ground. I am thankful that I am as intelligent as I am. I am thankful that I have love and kindness in my heart as well as a forgiving nature. I am thankful that I will never let my children feel the neglect and abuse that was forced upon me growing up and that my children will never know how it feels to be unloved. I am thankful that I don't hold grudges or hate anyone. I am thankful that I am polite, have manners and know how to behave around others. I am thankful that I seek a peaceful solution to lifes many problems. I am thankful that I stand up for what I believe in and I'm not a coward nor afraid of anyone or anything. I am thankful that I can run a successful business without letting the past effect my future. I am thankful that I smile everyday. I am thankful that I am me and from time to time I meet new people with whom I can share just a little bit of who I am. I will end this with 3 quotes I live by, I do not know their origin: 1. Their are doers and their are those who will never do anything- 2. Don't talk about it, be about it- 3. If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything