The Decisions We Make

Life is full of moments that change everything. Imagine if you will staring into a mirror, then smashing it with a hammer. You can try to piece it back together, but it's forever altered. Sometimes those moments are massive like a house fire. Other times they are so small and seemingly insignificant you might have missed it. Have you ever taken a moment to look back on your life and thought about the changes and challenges you have overcome? Allow me a bit of your time to tell you a few instances in my life that have shattered proverbial mirrors in my life that have changed everything. However, I feel the need to inform you, the reader, that this does deal with sexual abuse and a suicide attempt.

Growing up, something felt off. I was never really that close to the man I called Dad. It could have been because I didn't share many interests with him and while that might have been part of it the real reason was revealed when I was nine years old. I don't know what prompted it, maybe it had something to do with the daytime visits to my mom while I was in school but one day my parents decided to tell me that what I thought was real was a lie. I remember standing out in the yard that night when my mom told me my biological grandparents lived three doors down, I wanted to go introduce myself but she stopped me. We moved shortly after that but I couldn't let it go. I wanted to know who this family was that I hadn't met. I decided to call my biological father up one night, my mom wasn't thrilled but she didn't stop me. A million things ran through my mind that night, as I looked his name up in the phone book, dialed the number, and listened to the ring through the handset. What was he like? Did he know who I was? Would he even want to know me?

As I sat on the bed, growing a little comprehensive about what I was doing, the line clicked and there was a calm “Hello?” at the end of the line. “Hi, um, is this....?” I asked if it was the man I was trying to reach, he confirmed it was. “Hi, I'm your son.” There was a two-second pause and then “Okay. Nice to meet you.” We talked for a couple more minutes, and he offered to pick me up to go to Hastings. Looking back on that conversation, he seemed to go along with it the whole thing too easily. If someone called me up and told me they were my child, I would have questions. As far as the trip to Hastings goes, Mom was against it at first. We thought he meant the town of Hastings, but he meant the bookstore that was in town so Mom allowed it.

In the beginning, things were good. He treated my mom, sisters, and me to a circus show one night while my stepdad was on the road for work. He bought us popcorn and it was a good night from what I recall. My family moved again to another town a couple of hours away a few months after that fateful call, my biological father threw a fit. For some reason, he started claiming he wasn't my father and took it to court to prove it. He told the judge “That isn't my child. His father is Clark Kent.” As you can imagine, the judge laughed at him and informed him that Clark Kent was Superman. The backstory on that is my Mom didn't want to go out so she told my grandpa to tell him she wasn't home if he came around. Grandpa had a sense of humor, he told him my Mom was out with some guy called Clark Kent.

He took my Mom to court for visitation rights which resulted in him getting charged child support and awarded every other weekend. I don't remember exactly how, but I ended up staying at his house after his weekend ended. It had something to do with my parents' car not working right. I remember my grandpa bringing my Mom over to come to get me and an argument ensued. It was a bit like a game of tug o' war at the end, Mom told me to go to the car and Father said “Sit.” In the end, I when to the car, and grandpa went in. I don't know what happened, but I had never seen my grandpa so angry. As a result of this stupidity, I was late to my new school by a week, which caused other problems which I won't discuss here.

My biological father seemed to want to do things when it was convenient for him, like the time I was ready to go for the weekend, seven o'clock rolled around and he didn't show up. Eight, nine, still nothing. He finally thought to call around ten, excited about the Bob Dylan concert he had just seen.

I was severely hurt, but he didn't care. It wasn't the first time he had stood me up like that and it wouldn't be the last. He would stop coming around for weeks or months at a time, I would start spending my summers at his parents' house. His mother didn't trust me, not knowing me for the first nine years didn't help with that. My great-grandmother moved into the house across the ally, I would spend as much time as I could with her. She was a fascinating woman, I loved drinking coffee and eating the baked goods she had made. I missed those experiences when my grandpa on this side of my bloodline got sick.

This grandfather was diagnosed with colon cancer, it was decided that I wouldn't be able to spend time at either house. My father decided he would take me for the summer, he also thought I should be exposed to the workforce. He put in an application for detasseling, which meant I would be getting up at four-thirty in the morning to walk through a cornfield. I don't remember exactly when the sexual abuse started, eleven or twelve, but it intensified that last year. With my first check, he put it into his bank account “for safekeeping” and gave me a twenty from it to learn the value of a dollar. Which meant he wanted me to but my lunches with it. He promised to give me the full six hundred and forty dollars I had earned at the end of the summer, which changed to 'when you turn twenty-one.' I never saw a dime.

He started pressuring me to move in with him permanently too, I agreed mostly because I didn't know what I wanted or if I had a choice. My life at home wasn't the best, I wanted out. A new beginning, a fresh start somewhere. Looking back, if I had gone through with the entire 'live with Dad' thing my life would probably have taken some severe turns in directions I don't want to think about. When it went to court, I was so lost and confused I just agreed with the lawyer when he said “You want to live with your Mom?” I felt relieved when that question was presented, an easy out. I didn't want to disappoint anyone, I felt torn. As an introverted child, I knew the feeling of anxiety from social situations. What I felt that day was beyond that, it was more like paralysis. What I said would forever change my life, I could feel it. I walked past him a final time that day, sitting on a bench looking like he was betrayed as his lawyer informed him what happened.

Over the next three years, I grew angrier and angrier. I couldn't rationalize it, I couldn't deal. I grew up with anger issues from a very young age but this was on a whole new level. I attempted suicide once, in front of my mom and sisters who were pleading with me not to do anything stupid. Well, it's fairly lucky I guess that I was dumb and not thinking straight because I tried to hang myself with a belt from a tree branch while holding onto the end of the belt. I learned I had a high choking tolerance that day, but I am thankful today that I was unsuccessful.

I did many other things to lash out, at one point I took a knife and cut my forearm at my girlfriend's house when I was sixteen just to freak her out. That lead me down the path of self-harm, which caused my real friends to be afraid for me and they called the police on me. This lead me down a crooked and broken road of recovery until the day I wasn't speaking to anyone and I was accused of attempting to blow up my high school by the other students. It went from 'he has a gun haha hahaha' to 'he's going to blow up the school! I wanna go home!' I don't know how it escalated, but the next thing I know I am in a 'meeting' with the principal, the vice-principal, the school counselor, and my parents. The principal just wanted me gone, she didn't want to hear how the vice-principal or the security guy knew I was a good kid. I was expelled and put into handcuffs. Someone tried to cover the cuffs with a coat to protect my dignity, but I pulled it off. I wanted all those kids to see what their lies had done, to allow the guilt to eat them whole if they were even capable of feeling guilt.

Once in the back of the police car, the resource officer asked if I had anything in my pockets that could be defined as a weapon. For the first time that day, I spoke. I didn't speak in my defense, I knew my voice wouldn't be heard anyway. I told her no, my pockets were empty. She had to confirm that, it was part of her job and I told her it was fine, I understood. I also told her that I made a promise to myself that I would give up lying when I was fifteen. The officer and I had a nice chat on the way to the hospital, where I was to be evaluated for my mental health for the third time in two years. While going through the admittance process, my family sat in the waiting area in plain view. The standard question of 'have you been sexually abused' came up and I froze. My first instinct was to deny and hide. That dark stain on my life was shoved deep into a closet, never to see the light of day. The nurse put down her pen, laid a hand on mine, and asked “who was it? Was it him?” Referring to my stepfather who was sitting in the waiting area. I quickly shook my head, the tears welling up in my eyes as the internal dam that I had built up cracked and broke against the storm of emotions that had been fighting so hard to break free. I don't remember if I told that nurse who the guilty party was or not, but the truth had finally come out after so very long.

My road to recovery has been a difficult journey. It isn't over yet, it may never be fully over. So many decisions were made at that time, some for the better and some for the worse. I don't regret the decisions I made, as traumatizing as some of them were. They lead me to who I am today, a man who has seen darkness and light. I share this story with you, perhaps you can use it to find your way to a road of recovery for yourself when life gives you a hard right hook.