I've spent a lot of time on this blog over the last few weeks talking about what I think is wrong in the world today. Now, I'm going to take the time to talk about what I think is wrong with me. This has nothing to do with politics, so refer to the previous post, if that is what you are looking for.
Lori and I are in the middle of a argument over what she thinks is just about a stupid movie. We went to go see Marmaduke today. Not much substance there, but I thought it was mildly entertaining. But like I said, this has nothing to do about the movie.
As most of you know, Lori is not my first wife. For those who don't know me that well, I will spare you the shock value of telling you how many times I have been married.
I'm not one for excuses, but I had a miserable childhood. I lost both parents by the time I was 11. The 2 year period of time between which my father died and when my mother drank herself to death was something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Until you've been beaten with a baseball bat for coming home 5 minutes late, by a mother that's in a drunken rage, I really don't want to hear your drivel about about not having a nurturing family life.
The time after she died was no picnic either. Even though I had 6 uncles and aunts, at the time, I was given a "choice" to live with a neighbor lady which none of the family knew.I took the option solely because I did not want to uproot my life again. But I was 11, for Christ's sake. What kid that age gets to make that type of decision? I was nothing more than a house boy to a woman that had been injured in a car accident a couple of years previously. I did help her out quite a bit after she got home from the hospital. But now all those things I did for her were now expected, now that I was living with her. To say the least, I had no childhood to speak of.
The lady was a bit of a barfly herself. Not quite as bad as my mother, but she was known to down a few herself. Many times, she'd bring guys home with her from the bar. When she opted not to share her bed with them, they'd wind up in bed with me. On one occasion, the asshole she brought home decided to start fondling me. When I told her about it the next morning, she thought I made the whole thing up.
This brings me to the most painful part of this story. From age 6 on I had been sexually abused on several occasions. Mostly by friends of my parents, but in my teen life, my own sexual curiosity got me abused by other adults, some were complete strangers.
I finally came to live with one of my uncles when I was 15 years old. By then, it was too late. I was looking for love and or sex any way I could find it. Many times, I would hang out with people older than me that drank and did drugs to fulfill this need. Wasn't long before I was doing the same.
One thing I had going for me is that I didn't mind working. So much so, that I dropped out of high school half way through 11th grade to take a full time job. But all that money went for was booze and drugs.
My uncle had raised two pretty good boys. But he was in no way ready to deal with the issues that I had brought with me. He had got to the point that he had only one rule, "don't get yourself thrown in jail, cause I won't bail you out." Somehow, I managed to stay on the right side of the law, if just barely.
I wound up leaving my uncle's place when I was 17. After a brief stay in my birthplace of Kansas City, I came back to Minnesota. I was able to stay with an old high school girlfriend and her mother, at the time, neither of them were totally aware of all the demons I had been suppressing.
I spent the next 4 years fathering 4 kids with two different wives. I have a strong belief that there may be another child beside them, that the mother's family did their best to hide from me. Who could blame them? For various reasons I wound up surrendering my parental rights to the four kids I knew about.
I have had many good people in my life that have loved me. But because of my fucked up childhood, I don't really think I know how to love anybody. My sometime obsession with sex has caused me to be unable to have a normal healthy sexual relationship with my partner at the time. It should be noted that I have never been a predator or sexual deviant of any sort. Possibly because my overly abusive mother did instill a sense of consequence in me, that is with me to this day. And not to worry, folks. My blood pressure and diabetes, while controlled by medication, has made most any sexual function impossible, these days.
So now that I've spilled my guts out, you may ask what the point was. A couple of hours ago, I posted on my Facebook page that I was tired of making wrong decisions. The fact is, despite all the childhood problems I've had, most of the problems I've had have come from decisions I've made from a heart that felt that it was never given enough love instead of with my head.
These decisions haunt me to this day. Unfortunately, they hurt other people besides myself. ex-wives, children, friends and family alike. I always try to do the right thing, but many of these decisions are made without much careful deliberation.
So where do I go from here? I'm not really sure. I often get the feeling that I have managed to destroy any compassion Lori may still have in me. Or was it all just another mistake? It seems there couldn't be people with less in common. Yet, I don't remember ever loving anyone as much as I do her. (sorry to all that have came before her)
So I've come to yet another crossroads in my life. I have beaten the demon of codependency, so there is no other vine to swing to. But I just don't know if I can continue to live in a situation where I know that decisions I've made have caused the person that I love's feelings to sour on me.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.