Insanity at its best

Tears rolled down her little pink cheeks. She was hunched over in a ball in the back corner of the hotel's stairwell. If only the school bus would show up, then she could escape the pain at least for a few hours. She was hiding from him, hoping he wouldn't find her in time. She was only four years old but in her mind she felt much older.

If only she could stay here hiding forever, she knew she couldn't though. Truth was she wasn’t even supposed to be in the stairwell but it was the only place she felt safe. She hid her face from view so no one could see her tears. He hated her tears. To him, her father, tears were a form of weakness. His daughter could never be so weak. When she did cry in front of him he would punish her to make her stronger. The more she cried the worse it got. She learned fast to hide her tears and pain until she was alone and could release the emotional baggage she tended to keep locked up tight.

Time slipped away fast and before she knew what was happening around her she heard a door open and bang shut, she jumped to her feet and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her sleeve as fast as she could, until she heard his voice penetrate her mind like a blade to butter, and she froze up. Unable to move or speak.

“There you are, girl.” he bellowed, “I told you not to leave for school today, didn't I?”

He glared down at her as he took hold of her tiny arm. Not waiting for her reply he began to pull her toward the exit. Finally her voice broke free and her little muscles bunched up in protest to being dragged through the door.

“But dad, I want to go to school.” she tugged on her arm trying to free herself, but ro no avail. “I’m not sick and I don’t want to stay home today, we are having pizza for lunch.”

She felt trapped as she begged to go to school. He dragged her through the door and across the parking lot, her feet dangling behind her as she struggled to get free of his grip.

“I told you no.”

His voice vibrated deep to her core, causing her to tense up. That voice was meant to scare her, it was her cue to shut up and listen. She struggled more but it did no good because he just picked her up off her feet like a five pound bag of potatoes. He put her over his shoulder and carried her across the street and into the trailer park. Quickly making his way to the camper of torment and pain that she hated so much. As they entered the trailer park she could see her school bus turn the corner onto her street. It was coming to pick up her and her friends only she wouldn't be going to school today.

Her hell was only just beginning for the day. It was just her and her father today, alone. Her step mom and step sister were both out, one at work, the other at school for the day. He had all morning and half the afternoon to do to her whatever he wanted to do. No one was strong enough to stop him. It had been going on for a year now, maybe more.

For her the days seemed to blur together. As they reached the camper her heart picked up speed. She knew what was coming. She knew the pain that would follow. The feelings that would invade her system. Her thoughts raced, searching for a way out. How could she escape being as small as she was? Before she realized it she was already inside the camper and her father was putting her back on her feet. His hands petted her hair and stroked down her little arms. She looked up at him, her father, with his blue eyes of steel. He looked right through to her soul, or at least that is how it felt at times.

As her father's fingers travelled and explored her small frail body she escaped into her mind and placed her body on autopilot. It did her no good to fight, scream or cry because he would do what he wanted or hurt her if he had too to keep her quiet. It was far safer just to let it happen and get it over with. She just wanted to crawl under the kitchen table and hide like she usually did. Hiding in her tiny spot playing with what little toys he allowed her to have was her only escape it seemed these days. It wasn't much, just a few toys from mcdonalds and a baby doll that one of her friends gave to her, but it was hers and she cherished it all like a leprechaun cherished gold. She tried to tell people that her father was hurting her but no one would listen.

She was a strong willed child though and she wouldn't give up. She knew one day she would free herself of the hell her father placed her in. She wanted to be free so bad that sometimes she dreamed about hurting him and running. She didn’t really know where she would go but she was only a little girl so chances were someone would see her running away and stop to help her. She could tell whoever picked her up what her father was doing and go to the police for help. They would hear the truth in her voice and save her.

As she allowed her mind to leave this place she found herself in, her thoughts came forward and she pictured a life without him. That is where she hid while he used her little body for his own pleasure. She felt numb, ignoring his hands and body touching her in her most private of places, causing her enough pain that she silently hid inside of her own mind. He couldn't touch her if she hid inside her head. It was her only form of protection and all she needed in this life she was forced to live.

Who is this girl? This girl is me, and this is my story. It is a story of strength and the will to be saved from the pain we all seem to hold inside our souls. At 5 years old I saved myself from my abuser, my father. My memories of the years I spent with my father are still as vivid and colorful as the day they were created. I don’t want to forget about what happened to me because it made me into the woman I am today. I understand the pain others feel, better, because of what I had to endure during my thirty-five years of life. I listen and pay attention to those in emotional pain because no one was there to hear me when I was crying out for someone to come save me. They didn't hear me because I was just a child who didn't know how to tell people her father was molesting her because I didn't have that kind of vocabulary yet. I can assume that those I had told about my father hurting me just didn’t understand what I really meant. I don't want anyone to go through what I went through because I know it hurts and that emotional pain is harder to heal then a broken bone in my book.

Thinking back on those years I spent in my own kind of personal hell used to be difficult to do, not so much anymore. Now it is like telling a story I had memorized years ago. It isn’t always easy but it is worth the pain if it means I get to heal and help others do the same. The unique chance to tell those sitting in darkness suffering from mental illness and abuse, that they are not alone, is a blessing most don't notice. I can’t be blind to other people's pain and leave them alone with musings of their minds. We all need someone strong enough to hold us together when we feel as though we are falling apart. I have held so many in my arms that they now stretch all the way around the world.

When I was a little girl hiding beneath the campers table so my father wouldn't touch me I pictured a world I had never seen before. Maybe I had though and I just didn’t remember. The image in my mind's eye looked so real that it was possible I had seen this place before, maybe in a dream after sleep had finally taken my thoughts into my dreamscape. My mind was one of the few escapes I had when life became too difficult for my small body and mind to handle. It wasn’t all bad though. I have faint memories of the good times. They are not as vivid but they are there and I can pull them up with ease anytime I want too.

There is a small part of me that wants to see my father. My mom asked me,“Why would you subject yourself to that kind of torment?”

Because she could not understand my thinking. For her it seemed easy to forget my father and with him in jail at the time my mom had gotten full custody of me. My mom came and took me out of that place and moved me to Maryland with her, my sister, and Donnie, the man my mom had fallin in love with after I was taken from her. She wanted to forget my father even existed and put everything he had put me and her through those few years behind us both. I suppose for her it was easier than facing the truth. I am not my mother though. I didn’t, couldn’t, forget because the memories would never let that happen. It was imprinted on my subconscious mind at an impressionable age and it wasn't going anywhere until I healed.

As a child I didn’t go around telling everyone I knew about my past. That’s not to say I didn’t talk about it though. If I ever felt the need to share my story with another it wasn’t because I wanted pity or attention, no, it was because I wanted whoever I told to understand me better as a person. It was also a good way for me to relate to others who had similar pain and heartache to my own. The wisdom I carried along my path in life helped me to guide others towards healing as I walked. Everyone needs at least one person on their side to help when life knocks them down.

My emotions give me an advantage in life. They are a gift that I cherish and one I refuse to exploit for fame or wealth. I wasn’t given this gift, this insight, to make a profit at the expense of others emotional baggage. I was entrusted with this gift so I could use it to help others heal from their inner pain. If I happen to make money which I don’t expect, I will do what others can't seem too. What money isnt used to keep a roof over my kids head and food in their bellies will be given back to those who need it most. I can’t sit back and watch people suffer in the streets of my country and not do something about it. That is just not who I am and it is not someone I want to be.

I used to dream about saving the world. I still dream about a world that sits in peace within my lifetime. If only more individuals would hear the cries and communicate how they feel and what they think better maybe we could be free of this tormented world. Unfortunately most people are deaf to others voices and they would rather hide their own thoughts then be judged by someone who doesn't know them. I suppose I can consider this trait part of the human condition. The way I see things is simple though. These traits are very much a choice. I would even consider it a selfish choice because if you choose not to listen or communicate with those who are simply trying to understand you and themselves then isn't that kind of selfish. That could just be my opinion though because I feel selfish if I don't share my thoughts and feelings with those I love and care about.

As a child I kept my mouth shut, unless someone did something inappropriate to me or another child. No one really listened to me anyway, I was just a kid. I learned growing up that the adults in my life spent a lot of time protecting other adults' reputations and yet failed at protecting their own children. Ignoring the cries for any sort of attention. Brushing off the issues and problems their children are dealing with in their little lives. Yet, giving advice and helping their adult friends was less problematic. It seemed easy for them to listen, give advice and attention to their friends but not so easy to do for the kids they brought into this world.

I can never be that kind of an adult because my kids mean way too much to me. Hurting them will always hurt me. It's one reason why I don’t spank them unless I absolutely have to. I speak to my kids how I would have liked to be spoken to by the adults in my life when I was a child. I can sometimes lose my cool, yes but, when that happens I usually take a step back and cool off. I don’t want to emotionally damage my children, not if I can help it.

As I got older and my friends moved away or got new friends, I found myself spending more time indoors. That was until I got my license and my first car. After I was able to travel on my own I started finding new places to go to in order to hide from the world. I found myself trying to get lost in the mountains on the old back roads that have never been paved and wound around all the best hiding places. I pull off and park whenever I get the itch to stretch my legs and explore a bit. To me the woods were like walking through my own personal heaven. A place where I could go to escape from reality and my own inner pain. I always found peace in the simplicity of nature. The woods were like a second home to me. The silence that surrounded me. The fresh smell of dirt and moss, or what I consider the scent of earth, that took over my sense of smell. The feeling of the cool breeze and warm sun coming through the trees bathing me in their essence. It is where I wanted to be. Even today I long to return to the trees I climbed and the waters I swam. To explore every trail, cave, valley, and gorge hidden behind the trees and hills is my passion. This area has been home to my family for decades. I know this area better than I know myself most days and that is saying a lot.

I was born in California back in September of 1985. In July of 1991 my mom got me back from my father and moved me to Maryland with her. It wasn't easy though my step mom decided to fight to keep me and I was honestly scared to death of leaving with this woman who was my mom. I had no real memories of her and I had only met her once before right after my father went to jail for what he did. When my stepmom reported to the police that my father was molesting me they ran my name through their database and found out that my mom was actually searching for me and had been since my father took me from her when I was only 2 years old. Which let me know that even though I didn't know this woman because I was too young to really remember her, she loved me enough to search for me. It explained why my father had us living in a travel camper and why we seemed to always be taking road trips. He tried to hide a lot of things from my stepmom, her daughter, and myself but I wasn't a blind child and I noticed a lot of things that he thought I didn't see. I have always had a pretty good memory even though I act like I don't sometimes.

My stepdad Donnie, I call him pops, was always interested in what I could remember of my childhood. We could sit and talk for hours about our lives growing up and how different it was in the 50s of his early childhood compared to the 80s of my early childhood. I found myself drawn to my stepdad in a way that I wasn't with most people. Most of the men in my life, when I was a kid, I was scared of in a way because I didn't trust them due to what my father had done to me. My stepdad was different though, something about him made me feel safe and protected. Deep in my soul I knew I could trust him with anything and everything. He is who I went to if I needed advice about something. As much as I love my mother she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. I didn't trust her like I did my stepdad, I know that sounds odd but it's the truth. A part of me has never fully trusted my mother because a part of me that hides deep holds pain in my soul for her lack of intellect when it came to my father. A part of me feels like she knew who he was and she still followed him like a love sick puppy without a care to her child's well being and in that neglect what transpired changed everything for me.

I can forgive my mothers neglect because I love her. I know she isn't the smartest person in the world and even though that is no excuse it wasn't really her fault. She made a bad choice yes but she did so because in her mind she loved my father at the time and she was blinded by that love so she refused to believe in the evil that lived inside my father's soul. Forgiving her isn't hard because I know if she was given a chance to re-due her life she would have chosen a different path for us both, one that bypassed my father and went straight to my stepdad. I know this because I know my mom and I know what pain she hides deep in her own soul.

I can forgive my father for his treatment of me. I know my father was mentally ill in a way, even if he didnt know it or understand it. Now don't get me wrong, what he did was wrong. I am sure he knew at the time that it was wrong because if he didnt he wouldn't have tried to hide it from everyone we knew back then. I will also never truly trust him because of his actions. He lacked control over the demons in his head and in doing so he allowed them to play with me like I was some toy instead of a child and his daughter. None of those things can be changed though and holding on to them only darkens my soul more with each passing moment. I choose to forgive him in order to heal myself of the pain caused by his actions.

There are so many stories I can get into from the earlier years of my childhood, I can read my life like a book in my head. I have gone over everything in my memories so many times I don’t think I will ever forget my past. Trying to take the story in my head and put it to paper has proved more difficult than I expected it to be. There are so many lessons I can put down. So much wisdom I can share. Truth is I can keep writing until the day I die and it still wouldn't be the end of my story. Part one of my story was simply a prelude to a much longer, more epic tale. There is so much more to be said, so much more to be shared, so many dreams that have yet to come true and so many ideas still swirling around in my head. Where this life leads me will be a story for ages to come.

In every person’s life there is a moment that seems to define us, some search for this moment in earnest only to come up just shy of their goal because they searched too hard, expected too much and missed the moment when it came. Once we realize we missed our moment we try getting it back, searching for a replacement and yet never truly finding one, only to miss all the moments that came before and after the moment we spent so long waiting for. Why does it seem that so many fall short of those defining moments? It seems so simple to accept each moment as better than the last but it's just not reality, is it? I know that was never the case in my reality even though it could be the case in others reality. Truth is my view of reality has never been normal not since I can remember anyway.

One of my first memories was one such moment. I was always a fast learner and a smart child. I was walking and talking earlier than most children my age. My mom said I was walking by my first birthday and I have a picture to prove it. I was talking sooner than most kids my age, although I think I did have a slight speech problem when pronouncing some words as I got older but with a few speech classes that was quickly fixed. I learned how to roller skate when I was about 3 years old. As one of my first memories I can only recall a few single moments In time around what had happened to cause the memories to last. It's probably one of my safer memories, one that took place before the abuse started when my father was still my dad and I was his little angelface.

It was one of those warm days in spring and we were living on a little piece of land my dad was renting somewhere in california. It wasn't a big piece of land, only a few acres I think. It was Just big enough for a yard and a small grazing field for a few animals. I remember we had billy goats about 4 of them. I loved going out with my dad every morning to feed them because their beards tickled my palms when they ate the grain from out of my tiny hands. I can still remember the sound of my dad's deep amused chuckle as I giggled out of pure joy. I had no idea what true pain was in those moments. I had no fear when my dad picked me up to hold me or move me. I saw my dad as my hero. We had a few chickens and a cow but the animal that was my pride and joy was the pony my dad had got me for my 3rd birthday. It was an all white female horse and I got to name her sugar all by myself.

I was so proud of how much of a big girl I was becoming and I took responsibility for my horse without fussing. I got up with my dad every morning to help with chores and to feed the dogs, horse, and goats while my dad mucked out the stalls and pins and fed the chickens and dealt with the one cow we owned. I remember being scared of the chickens because they liked to chase me and peck at my feet. There was one day after the chores were done where my dad decided to give me skates because my step sister's skates were too big for my feet. After I put on the skates I decided to use the patio as a skate rink. Dad was on the patio washing it off with a hose because one of the dogs had pooped on it after we had all gone to bed the night before. As I came around to the patio I heard my dad yell.

“Be careful, the patio is wet and slippery! I don't want you to fall and bust your head open.”

I didn't listen though and before I knew what was happening I was falling head first towards the patios corner edge that protruded out of the ground by about 4 inches. I don't remember going to the hospital but I know dad took me because my next memory is right after we got home from the hospital. It was later in the day and the sky had already darkened into night. It was so late that dad allowed us all to stop and get fast food so no one would have to cook. We got home and all the lights were out so instead of going in the front door of the house dad walked us around to the kitchen door at the back of the house. As we all had come around the corner I remember hearing what sounded like an animal in pain and my dad looked worried so he told my step mom to take my step sister and I into the house while he went towards the back of the yard and the sounds echoing through the darkness.

As my dad stepped into the darkness I broke loose from my step mom and ran towards the sound only to hear my dad bellow for me to get back. As I ran closer my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could see the shadows in front of me viciously tearing into a mass laying on the ground. I heard my dogs growls and then realized too soon that the other noise being made was my horse sugar neghing in pain because my dogs had attacked her and were chewing on her hind quarters and front legs. Too soon I was ripped away from the scene by my dad picking me up and handing me off to my step mom.

“Take the girls inside while I deal with this mess.” I heard my father tell my step mom as she quickly made her way back towards the house. I could hear my dad yelling at the dogs to release as he proceeded to kick one in the head and swing a shovel he had picked up at another one. Tears streamed down my face as I yelled to my dad not to hurt my dogs and to save my horse. I knew dad was mad because of the tone in his voice as he yelled the dog's names and every cuss word he knew into the night sky. I don’t remember the rest of that night but I know dad put down all my dogs and my horse. It wasn’t long after that that we left our house and moved into the travel camper attached to dad's pick up truck.

The abuse started after we moved into the camper. I don’t think I remember the first time my dad became my father but he did and it was that first moment of pain that changed my life forever. It was after that moment that nothing would be the same for me. My innocence was lost in that moment and everything I thought I knew was now completely wrong. My trust in those around me was broken and I became a scared little girl hiding from a very cruel world that I no longer understood. If a girl can not trust her own father to do the right thing for her how could she trust anyone else too? I was only 3 or 4 years old when life turned upside down for me. There was no changing it and no going back anymore. The memories began being burned into my mind and that is where they have remained this whole time.

I know I am not the only woman who has suffered at the hands of her father. I have met a few who had it worse than I did and some who were subjected to abuse for longer periods of time then I was but that doesnt make my story any less valid because everyone's story is different and we all heal different so my story will never match anyone else's story but we can all learn something from listening to each others stories. I only wish to be understood better by those in my life. Is it too much to ask for? It would seem so most days.

I spent the first year in my new hometown of Frederick Maryland trying not to be scared of everything and everyone. I was alway the odd one out because I wasn’t like all the other kids. I was smarter and more mature for my age because of what I went through. That first year was hard. I made a few friends but I had trouble connecting and therapy was no easier then going to the doctors for tests and checkups to make sure I had healed from the abuse my father subjected me too. I learned fast how to hide how I felt so everyone in my life would stop treating me like a porcelain doll that would shatter if you even looked at it the wrong way. My family thought they hid their pity and pain for me so well but I could see it every time I made eye contact with someone. It was so bad for me that I stopped looking people in the eyes and just kept my head down like the scared child I was.

Within that first year I had to travel back to New Mexico for the court trial to put my father In prison. I was to testify and speak in front of a jury and a courtroom full of people. I was going to be questioned by both the state's lawyer and my fathers lawyer. Before I was put on the stand to speak I remember the judge coming into the room they had me waiting in to talk to me. I was terrified and I was holding onto my mom's hand for dear life just wishing I could go back home. I can’t remember the Judge's name and the transcript from court I lost years ago when my room had leaked water all over my tote of papers. I remember the Judge asking me if I was strong enough to sit on the stand and tell my side of the story and I simply nodded my head yes. The judge then told me I would be handed dolls in order to show the jury where I was touched and what my father had done to me and asked me if I could handle that in person or if I wanted to do it in a live video feed. I only wanted to get it over with so I told him I would just talk on the stand. I remember spending hours on the stand answering questions and playing with these barbies they had handed to me. After everything was discussed in detail I was asked to point to the man who had done these things to me and it was at that moment I realized I would have to look my father in the eyes as I told the room of people what he did. I remember having a hard time seeing clearly through my tears. It hurt my little heart to put my father in jail but I knew I had to or he would do it again. Maybe not to me but to someone else and I couldn't let that happen. Not if I could prevent it.

Life afterwards wasn't what I was expecting it to be. I thought life would be simple. I thought I would be safe. I expected my dreams to come true even if I had not yet figured out what my dreams were. Turns out I was wrong. For a while things were fine. Mentally I was strong and I put my past aside so I could be a kid. I pretended to be normal like my friends. I followed my friends into trouble just to say I wasn't scared. Unfortunately I told someone about my past that I thought I could trust to keep my secret but they blabbed to their brother and that brother mentioned it to a few friends and before I even knew what was happening I had boys in my neighborhood cornering me in all kinds of places. They all had decided i was no longer a virgin and that meant I was open for sex. I don't think any of them wanted to hurt me and most only tried once (I was not a pushover and many boys got a knee in their family jewel box and that was enough to keep them away from me) but there were a few who I tried to stay away from because of how they acted.

I remember there was one boy in particular that I tried to stay away from because he had pinned me in the corner of the church parking lot that was behind our houses and freaked me out. I wont say his name because who he is, is no longer important but he was more forceful than the other boys had been and he was in the older crowd of kids, the ones in high school so I didn't really know him well. The first time he cornered me I was playing hide and seek with my friends, I think I was about 11 yrs old. I was hiding behind a building that was in the church parking lot behind the houses on our block. It was a safe place for us kids to play during the week because there was no real car traffic back there. There was a space about 2 foot wide behind the building and a cement wall that separated the area from the neighbors driveway. It was a good place to hide if you were not scared of spiders or bugs. The wall the building was backed up to was only about four foot high and most of us kids could jump up on it in order to climb onto the roofs of the carports next door. He was coming down the alley towards me.

I was so busy looking out for my friend that I didn't hear or see him until it was too late. He must have seen me from over the wall because he hopped it and landed behind me in one quick movement. I heard the gravel move behind me and spun around just in time for him to pin me against the building and cover my mouth to muffle my scream. My body froze and I knew my eyes had grown three sizes at that moment. As my dad would say I am sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I quickly found my senses though and started speaking under his hand.

I was trying to tell him to get off of me but he kept his hand over my mouth and used his body to keep me in place. Slowly his knee came to my shaking knees and he spread them apart. It was mid summer so I was in long loose fitted shorts and a tee shirt. I didn't wear short shorts or tank tops as a kid because I felt too vulnerable if I wasn't properly covered.

As his knee rose up toward my most private area he used his other hand to feel at my chest. It was at that moment that my knee came up and made contact with his boy parts and he lost his breath and went weak in the knees just long enough for me to push him over and run in the opposite direction like my dad's work partner had taught me. I was so scared I ran past my friend on my way home and didn't stop until I ran through the store door and into my stepdads waiting arms. As soon as he saw me come running through the door he knew something was wrong. He picked me up and let me cry in his arms until I had cried all I could. After I had calmed myself down my dad asked me what happened. I thought for a bit and then told my stepdad that one of the older boys was just picking on me and it had hurt my feelings. At the time I didn't know how my stepdad would react to the truth and I didnt want anyone getting hurt so I lied. My dad must have told his buddy Timmy what had happened because it wasn't long before Timmy had come looking for me.

I remember I was sitting on the floor in our living room watching cartoons when I heard him come through the store door. The store door was the door that led from our house to the store part of the building my dad owned.

“Hey pumpkin head Donnie said you had some trouble with a boy today, do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he sat on the floor next to me.

Timmy was a good man, he was only in his 20s but he was very much like a brother to me. He watched out for me and my sister like we were his blood relatives and we loved him as such. He knew about my past and he protected me in a way that most don't. I always felt safe with him around so when he asked me that simple question I was honest with him.

“One of the older boys pinned me against the shed in the church parking lot and felt me up but I kicked him in his nuts and ran like you told me too. I was just scared but I am ok now.” I looked at Timmy wondering how he would react and he didn't disappoint me when his anger showed itself. He was very predictable when it came to me and I knew he would get angry and demand to know who the boy was. In my child's mind I knew telling him who the boy was probably wouldn't be a good idea because he would go and put the fear of God into the boy but would that be a bad thing.

“Who was it?” he asked while my mind wandered.

“Just a boy, he won't do it again and if he does I will tell you but I am not giving you his name because I know you and I am not going to let you go beat up some kid who clearly deserves it but doing so will only get you in trouble and I don't want that.” I hugged him just to innerate that I was ok and felt his arms wrap tightly around me.

“Well I am just glad you are ok but if he touches you again, promise I get to break his hands?” He was such a man that even that small remark made me laugh and I nodded my head in agreement.

That's how life was for me most days. It wasn't always someone hurting me in a sexual way but I did have bullies as a kid and I wasn't always welcomed because a lot of the kids thought I was weird and poor. Most days you could find me following Timmy around or with my dad. Other days I would be with my grandma or someone else in my family. When I did hang out with my friends I could play all day but only if they were not being mean or anything. Other days I would spend alone down at the park playing with whoever would play with me or exploring on my own. I had a whole secret world in my mind that no one knew about.

I remember spending hours down at culler lake. It was my go to place because of the creek that ran next to it. There were bushes and trees big and overgrown enough for my small body to climb into in order to hide and play. I created a magical world filled with adventure and wonder. I would create maps to hidden treasures I had buried and then hide the maps in places around the neighborhood and parks for other kids to find. I can't even tell you how many toys I had buried in shoe boxes wrapped in plastic to save it from the weather around the city park area of Frederick where we lived. I have no clue if anyone ever found them all but if not well I’m sure one day someone will.

The times I spent down at the park and lake were probably my favorite times. It was on one of my adventures that I came across the brother of a friend in school. I had seen him before and knew he was a nice boy. His eyes were the kindest eyes I had ever seen other than my stepdad's eyes. He was sitting under my favorite tree fishing and as I walked by his hook got stuck in the branch of the tree. I stopped and watched for a minute as he struggled to get the hook loose. I spent that minute debating on whether or not to put my shyness away and help him. We were both about 9 years old I think but I was always kind of shy when it came to people I knew versus people I didn't know. I swallowed my fear though and asked him if he needed help. That was the moment that changed my life. That was the moment I fell in love with a boy I barely knew but one I would soon know everything about.

It is easy to forget who you are when so many people try to turn you into someone you are not. I spent so much time trying to live up to others expectations of me that I failed to see my own expectations. Others' hatred made me hateful but that isn't who I am. Many believed in “an eye for an eye”, but I never wanted to be blind so I refused to do to others what they did to me. I knew what pain felt like so if I could heal another's pain, I did so. A lot of people tell me to just mind my business. Sometimes I can be tough on those I love, I never push them over the edge, I only try to make them see the things that I see. I want the best for everyone in my life and I tend to push those who refuse to push themselves but then I inadvertently fail in pushing myself farther. I can give the excuse that I only do it because I don't want to leave behind those I love but is that true? In a way yes but another part of me feels that if I do push myself I will end up alone in life and that's not something I want. Not that I don't like my alone time but being alone all the time with only my thoughts could drive me crazy in the long run.

I feel like I fight everyday to be who I see in the mirror. It's not so easy to stay positive in a negative world. The harder I search for the light the darker it gets in my mind. Is that normal? I remember a time in my life where the light was all I saw but then everything changed for me in the blink of an eye. Darkness became my new friend and the light that sat within my eyes slowly faded into the background of my mind. It was never easy to walk through the world faking my feelings all because others told me my feelings were wrong. It was never easy wearing a smile when I wanted to frown. It was never easy to laugh when I wanted to cry but I did it because it was better than watching the pity shine through the eyes of those I cared about. Life hasn't been easy but I live it because honestly I'm sure there is a reason why I am here at this time.

I have always believed everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is, there is one. If life is just moments in time, how long before that time ends and the moments are gone? I have been lost for so long I may never find the path I am meant to be on. I second guess myself so often and refuse to take chances because others told me I was a failure. Instead of believing in myself I listen to them and truly do fail because I have allowed them to hold me back with their own insecurities. Those emotions being pushed into my own psyche are enough to make me crazy. It has gotten worse since I lost my dad (stepdad). Losing him I felt like I lost it all, even myself for too long it seems. Watching the man who raised me, protected me, cared for me, and taught me how to take care of myself; slowly fade away was the hardest thing I ever really did. That says a lot about who I am, especially with my past.

I watched my dad take his last breath. I spent all night watching him breathe. I sat next to him and ran my hand over his face remembering every line and crinkle. Memorizing the feel of every beard hair upon his face. I held his hand and remembered how hard he worked to provide for us all and memorized every callous and scar that marred his hands and arms. I laid my head upon his chest and listened to his shallow breathing and slow heartbeat. I took in the smell of his soap and the essence that surrounded him. For weeks we talked about anything and everything just so I could remember the sound of his voice and his words of wisdom. Watching the man who raised and loved me like his own slowly fade away from cancer. It was hard but I was blessed because I had the chance to take all of him into my memory and say goodbye to him until death finds me as it did him..

I once thought my dad was invincible. I used to tell everyone he would live forever because even in his sixties he could run circles around the young boys who worked for him. Cancer had other ideas for our family. Within a month of finding out he had stage 4 cancer he was gone. I miss him everyday but I hold him close to my heart and live to make him proud. He once told me that I could do anything if I only set my mind on it. Growing up I sometimes set my mind on the wrong things but always with the best intentions. "You get what you give", was something I was always taught but not something I always believed in.. I knew from an early age that Karma was hard to handle sometimes, especially when you start paying for those childhood mistakes you thought didn't matter because the adults and older kids got away with it. I learned fast that the older generation was smarter about how they did things, at least for a while, until those sins took over.

I realized too much thinking and not enough enjoyment in life creates imbalances. Imbalance creates chaos and forces change. I learned that in elementary school. I feel as though no one paid attention in basic science class, most were too busy trying to act grown believing learning what they taught in school was pointless. Most failed in that basic knowledge (or common sense if you will) to worried about trying to control everything they themselves created, forgetting that god already did that many times before and it never worked..

My dad always told me..

"You can try any way you want but at the end of the day even God knows what you are thinking because God is the very thing that holds our world together.. God is all things. I'm not talking about the man that men painted god to be to better understand him but the universe that so many take for granted and try to take credit for discovering".-Charles White

That is just what my dad raised me to believe though because he wasn't a religious man and he didn't go to church. Thing was I had all of the trust in the world for him (he didn't have to love me or protect me because I wasn't his blood but he did and even after my own blood father destroyed me with his own sick behavior). Growing up, to me, my dad was God made Flesh. I was the Child he never could have but the one he claimed in the end when it mattered. That showed me what was real. Even after he passed away his words are still deep inside me because I soaked up everything he said and he was the wisest man I knew..

It's amazing to think about all a person has been through and survived; emotionally, physically, and mentally. We go through so much and yet we still live our lives and push through the hard times like it's not as important as we believe it is. I have come to realize that the system has a way of dividing its people, and we play into their hands everyday. I grew up surrounded by racist family and friends but I never allowed their behavior or views to change who I was or how I saw the people in my life. A lot of people refuse to see others for who they are and instead judge them based on the lessons they decided to learn the hard way. Most individuals spend their whole lives hiding themselves behind “masks” they created in order to hide who they truly are out of fear. Fear that others will judge them or look down upon them because of who they really are. I used to wonder why people were so scared of just speaking from the heart or saying what they thought. It’s like when someone hurts you and you just take it instead of standing up for yourself and saying “hey, you hurt me.” You can’t hide yourself from the world and then get mad when people dont understand you.

I learned fast that if something bothers me to speak up because no one will know how I feel or what I think if I don't say anything. If you don't understand something or someone, ask questions until you do understand. If someone is trying to communicate with you then listen and try to understand them. We make life so difficult because we fight most of the feelings we have. The feelings and emotions we have are our subconscious mind talking and guiding us along our paths. When we don't follow our feelings and intuition we tend to make mistakes. It's okay to make mistakes though because mistakes are simply lessons we need to learn the hard way.Those who refuse to see their mistakes and learn from them have a tendency to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I know I did at one point because I didn't quite understand what my mind and body were telling me. I learned fast how to pay attention to my inner self so I could heal from my past.

I find myself awake at 5 in the morning writing because it's hard for me to sleep with so much on my mind. I keep thinking about what I want out of life. I find myself searching for what I feel is missing in me. There was a point in my life where I just wanted to escape. It was at that point in my life that I stopped feeling safe. At 5 years old I realized I was my only true friend. I trusted no one but my inner voice. I was hurt emotionally, I was in pain physically, and I was mentally broken. I stayed this way for far longer than I care to admit to anyone other than myself. I built walls to keep people out so no one could hurt me again. Those walls were never stronger than my heart though because I kept letting people in. Unfortunately, a lot of those people hurt me as well. Over and over again I would build up my walls and tear them down for those who wouldn't even take the time to climb over my walls or break through them on their own.

As a child it opened my eyes to a truth I didn't understand until I got older. It was my fault because I allowed people to treat me how they wanted too without correcting them when they hurt me. I feared what standing up for myself would cause. I didn't want to get beat up, yelled at, or made fun of simply for speaking my mind. So, I silenced my voice instead and submitted to my fears in order to protect myself. I only hurt myself though. When I bury my negative emotions and thoughts they become like toxic sludge seeping into my mind and then spreading throughout my body like a cancer eating away at all that I am and destroying that which I love and hold dear to my heart.

I learned that life hurts. If I am not strong enough to handle the pain, life could very well kill me in the blink of an eye. I found out fast that I could kill myself before my time if i lost control of my mind. I walked a fine line for a long time. Life was hard but it wasn't all dark and painful, I viewed blue skies and had some good times as well. On my hardest days it was those good days that saved me. I found life difficult to understand but it never stopped me from trying to figure it out. I felt a deep need to understand life itself. I was so lost when I started looking for answers that I feared my own failure. I am no one special and that thought makes me believe I am less than how I really feel. I feel like a bad guy anytime I speak my mind.

I find life rather impossible at times. Impossible to think, act, or speak as I should. Impossible to remember all the rules and regulations that society places on the shoulders of the people. I find it impossible to keep up with all the issues going on in the world. Impossible to keep up with the truth hidden beneath all of the lies. I find myself lost among so many others. Trying to find a place in the world is like playing a game of musical chairs. Just when you think you found your chair and you are safe, someone pushes you down and takes your seat. Life seems to be more struggle and fight than comfort and peace. My dad always told me that we find strength in our struggles and wisdom in the fights we win and lose. I believe that says a lot about the people's character as a whole. It says a lot about us as individuals as well. I watch a lot of history, discovery, and science channels and I can see how far we have walked as a species.We have come so far as a people. Even when life seems impossible we still push forward. We still fight to climb the Mountain everyday. We break our backs working to survive in a cruel and hateful world. We try hard not to be corrupted by a corrupt system but many fail. Even this is taking root in the minds of the weak and blind that stumble around in the darkness trying to find a light and coming up empty-handed. I think about these things so much sometimes that it makes my head hurt.

I've come so far in my life and yet not far enough. It took me a long time to find the path I was meant to walk and now that I am on that path I want to run to the end but I know I can't so I simply take it all one day at a time. I keep moving, keep inspiring, and keep helping those who need me, even if it is just a few simple words that they are asking for. I follow my heart while also listening to the mind I was given. At times it is difficult because they don't always agree but with a little common sense and logic I can usually work out any issue I find myself facing. I'm not perfect though. I get so lost at times I start thinking I will never find my way back to the beginning. So where it all fell apart for me. Most days I just feel stuck in the darkness without any lights to guide me or even help me. I scream, cuss, kick, and thrash but no one can hear me and those who do hear me choose to Simply ignore me and my cries for help.I learned too early that you can only depend on yourself. I find it easy to forget the world when I am alone though. It's easy to forget everything when I am alone. No past, no future just the Here and Now. Just me. It's like being blind deaf and dumb but still being able to see here and think without judgment or stress resting on my shoulders. It's just peaceful, quiet and comfortable.

The power of thought is unmatched in this world. It is in thought that truth is found. When you look deep enough you find answers to questions you never asked. So what is a thought? In my opinion a thought is an inner monologue of sorts. We all have a voice in our head that sounds and talks like we do. When we think silently to ourselves about ideas, memories, dreams, wishes, what-ifs or past mistakes we are having thoughts. We spend years trying to silence our thoughts. Wasting time on thoughtless work. Self-medicating with mind-altering drugs in order to rid ourselves of the thoughts that won't go away or trying to understand the thoughts that decide to stay. It is easy to get lost in our thoughts if we are unhappy with life. If we think about our thoughts enough sometimes we can bring them into reality. Knowing these things I try to control what I think about. Instead of focusing on the negative things in life I try to stay focused on the positive things in life. It isn't always easy but no one said life would be easy. I read a lot about the laws of attraction and the one thing I learned from my studies is that most people don't think about the universal laws that govern our world. If more people understood these simple laws I believe more people would be happy. Ignoring what is inside is a good way of remaining unhappy.

Are so many thoughts in my head these days. So much knowledge I've never really studied. I know it though. My mind is becoming less scattered and more organized. People are beginning to hear my words. A few have understood and that allowed me to work out a lot of my more confusing thoughts. It is a slow process but I've always been a pretty patient person. I think most people believe I am crazy and with my ptsd I don't blame them for judging me or failing to truly understand me. no one can ever judge me as much as I tend to judge myself. As a child I had very little control over what happened to me. It wasn't until I took control of my life and told someone what my father was doing to me (behind closed doors and any time we were alone or he had an itch she forced me to scratch for him) that my life changed.Growing up with my mom I was forced to hand control of my life to her and that was okay for a while but then as an adult I hated not having control. Truth is though that in trying to control everything in my life I eventually lost control and went back down to the rock bottom. I was ready to give up because I believe the lies I was telling myself. I became the person everyone thought I was and allowed others pain to combine with my own and changed me in ways I didn't really want to change.

I got lost in the darkness of life and it took me a few years to find the light of life again. It wasn't until I gave control up to fate or destiny that I found the peace and wholeness I was searching 4. It's hard to explain how it happened but it did. I fell a few times in the past but I didn't give up and everytime I fell I stood back up and kept going. My body may have been still a few years but that was only because I was growing my mind and searching for the answers to questions I asked myself. I have found the path I am meant to walk and I will keep walking it until my heart gives out and God sends me home again.

I was asked once what I wanted out of life. Back then I didn't really know what to say so I said simply “I want to be happy”. I didn't realize it at the time but I had given a fully loaded answer. I was about 10 at the time and I can't remember who it was by name but it was a lady who lived in my neighborhood. She worked at the church I went to as a kid with my friends. During one of our Wednesday Bible studies, we went to, the church lady had asked me that loaded question and I replied with a loaded answer. Did I even know what happiness was at 10 years old? I can honestly say I did not. I found myself searching for the image of happiness. Looking for the fake happiness I saw on TV and read about in novels. I found it easy to get lost in the fairytale that I almost forgot reality was where I lived. It was harder to break the hold my sauce dreams had on me. Society tried to mold me into this lovesick consumer who would always wants more and better. I was told to never settle for anything but “the best”. Is it really settling if you're happy though? I'd consider happiness a goal. That's just me I suppose. Happiness seems hard to find for so many and yet they give it up so easily and for what, “the best”?

What is “the best”? Why are the ones we claim to love not enough? Perhaps the answers are simple. Are we enough for ourselves or are we simply searching for the best in ourselves finding that we come up short? We portray ourselves to be perfect and yet we are all flawed in some way. Even the flaws others can't see seem to haunt our chaotic minds while leaving scars on our hearts. Wallowing in the “what ifs” and “could have beens”. Our own fears and insecurities hold us back from true happiness. We put up walls and dig holes in order to hide from those we see as unworthy or below us. We find ourselves upset with people who treat us as we treat them not realizing our own actions have consequences. When do we stop to open our eyes to the truth life has to offer us all? When do we stop searching for the Fairy Tail and become happy with those we have in our lives? When do we start to live up to the expectations we place on those we care about? We said expectations for ourselves and yet most Never follow through with them. Why should they if everyone else doesn't? Am I crazy for my thoughts? Most believe so. It's okay I would rather be crazy than blind. I am Insanity at its best and this is only the beginning of my Journey.