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Does the Past Become the Future

Why am I here anyway?

By Mike CunninghamPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
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So, in order to fully understand what it is like to be in my shoes, we are going to have to travel back in time a bit. Actually, more than a bit, like 40 years or so. I know, just bear with me for a moment or two and you will understand why I have to go back this far. This is my story after all, and one that I feel needs to be shared.

One of my earliest memories consists of me standing in a crib looking down a hallway in a mobile home. We lived in a small town in Colorado, and I can recall a small grassy area that was in the middle of the park, on the other side lived my grandparents. Most of my early childhood is a blur these days, but that one memory stands tall. I believe it was at that moment that I realized life in general doesn't give two shits about you or anyone else. At least that is the spin that I have put on it over the years.

I don't remember my father from those days. I have gotten to know him over the years since, but not in a father/son sort of way. It wasn't too long after my birth that my father and mother split apart and went their separate ways. My father did his military thing and my mother met another man to take his place.

My "dad" was a typical 70s/80s manly man. He grew up in a time when emotions were a sign of weakness for men. He was a pretty decent guy, all things considered, but there was a side of him that just wasn't all that great. You see, "dad" was an alcoholic from the time he was a teenager. The story goes that his eldest brother, "The Golden Child" of the family, was killed on duty as a Highway patrol officer. This devastated the entire family and drove the younger siblings to drown their sorrows in booze. As long as he was drinking beer, "dad" was a funny and outgoing guy. But if he got even one drop of vodka in his system, all hell was going to break loose.

This man could down an entire 1.75 liter bottle of vodka in a day, and when that happened, you had to be really careful about what you did or said around him. Like when I was 4 or 5 years old and he was raging through the house screaming that I was the devil come to take his soul. Shit like that is pretty frightening for a small child. I remember hiding in the hamper in the bathroom because I didn't want him to find me. When my mother tried to calm him down, she would end up getting smacked around or flat out beaten for getting in his way. I saw this happen many times over the years, and I still hate him for it.

I grew up in a home that didn't exactly know what love was, but was very apt at providing a definition for hate, fear, and pain. My mother was manipulative and controlling my entire life. Nothing I ever did was good enough, and she had run up quite a bit of debt using my social security number before I was 18. The last time I saw "dad" was when I was 17 and he followed me down the hall with a loaded pistol at the back of me head saying, "Prove you're a man and take this gun from me!"

I did take that gun, and if it wasn't for my cousin holding my hands down to my side, I would have shot him and put him out of everyone's misery. But that is for another story, this is to show you that pain and fear is nothing new to me. I have felt worthless my entire life, and now even more so because the one person that held me to the ground is no longer by my side...

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About the Creator

Mike Cunningham

I'm 45 and just lost my wife. We were together for 20 years. This is my day to day story on what coping with this loss means to me.

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