A life forever changed

From a very young age I knew my home was unlike most others.I had a severely alcoholic father and an unstable mother who was a victim of frequent domestic abuse. My sister, was born with significant developmental delays and I had become her ‘protector’ in our extremely chaotic household. In a sad but fortunate way, her mental impairments kept her from experiencing the violence and alcohol induced rage that both my mother and I were frequently subjected to. I can remember many times that I would go to school beaten or bruised or when my mother could not leave the house for weeks until her blackened eyes or broken nose had healed. Although the community around us was aware of the situation, it was not a time when people would intervene to prevent domestic violence.

It was then that my life would become forever changed.

My father’s alcoholism would grow into a drug addiction and into the mid 70s he was sent to prison for two years for drug trafficking. It was then that my life would become forever changed. My mother had to go on welfare and to try and make ends meet she took in a boarder. The man who was to come to live with us was to become the monster who will reside in my subconscious mind probably until the day I die.

At first he was like a big brother that I never had. He gave me affection and attention that I had never received from parents consumed by the chaos of addiction and a violent lifestyle. He became someone who I trusted as a family member and a friend.
However, his intentions for me would become sinister, as it turned out he was a pedophile. He sexually abused me for approximately two years until shortly after my father was released from prison.

Fearing the discovery of his crimes, he committed suicide. I felt guilt and culpability for his death until a time when I was able to suppress it and somehow managed to carry on with as normal of a childhood as I knew.(Now I know many of you will say I had nothing to feel guilty about, but understanding that as a seven year old child is extremely difficult). I have never completely healed from the guilt and shame of those experiences and I never disclosed or shared with anyone the trauma of those events for the next 30+ years.

After my father was released from prison, he abstained from alcohol for about seven years, but still continued to use drugs, including cocaine. His violence had subsided but would still occasionally erupt and my mother and I would still receive the occasional beatings. His alcoholism would return after his business failed in the recession of 1982. He abandoned us and moved away, telling us that he was ‘ going to the store for groceries’ and never returned. I can still remember my mother putting me on the phone to beg him to return but he would not. 

By this time I was 13 years old and had began to experiment with drugs and alcohol and become too much trouble for my mother to handle.She decided to send me to be with my father whether he liked it or not. So I was sent on a greyhound bus to a city where I did not know anyone and was terribly afraid of what to expect. When I arrived, my father was not there to greet me. He was drinking and left me alone at the bus stop in a city I did not know for 14 hours before sending his girlfriend (a complete stranger) to take me to the place i was to call home for the next year.In this place I was witness to many horrible scenes that included my father injecting himself with various drugs and alcohol, including speed and perfume.

I have never completely healed from the guilt and shame of those experiences.

My mother and sister eventually moved to where my father was and my parents tried to reconcile their relationship. However my mother did not bring any of our possessions and the four of us lived on welfare in an unfurnished single bedroom apartment. It was during that time that during one of my father’s alcohol induced rages that I finally summoned the courage to intervene and tried to prevent him from beating my mother. He ended up breaking my nose and putting me through a bathroom door. It was shortly thereafter that I had my first suicide attempt and although I didn’t know it at the time, probably began my battle with depression and mental illness.

The suicide attempt had finally attracted the attention of social services and I was moved in with my aunt and her family and my parents relationship disintegrated. Although my aunt cared for for me greatly, she and her family were young and did not have the ability to raise a rebellious teenage boy. I had tried to return to live with my father and his girlfriend a few times but his drug and alcohol abuse continued and intensified. On the last attempt to reside with him, in a drug and alcohol-fuelled delirium, he beheaded our family cat and held it in his arms until it died.

After that incident, I returned to live with my aunt and her family until I was arrested at high school selling drugs. It was then decided I needed to move on and begin my life independently.

By this time my own drug and alcohol addiction had become very significant and I had a second suicide attempt. I had developed a cocaine habit which resulted in having to spend some time in prison. After I was released, I continued to live a careless and irresponsible lifestyle for a while, until I met my spouse who managed to help me get my life together and even helped me return to college where my life seemed to be going in the right direction. I unfortunately relapsed in my drug addiction and was unable to complete my academic pursuits, and is still today my biggest regret.

I need to… for them.

Since then I have had opportunities and occupations that I have self sabotaged and failed at, which have contributed to and compounded my depression and other mental illnesses.I do not have family that I can turn to for help, MY spouse and my beautiful wonderful kids are the only glimmer of hope and support that I hang on to that I might someday be able to conquer or at least manage my demons so that someday I can live a ‘normal’ life. I need to… for them.

I know that others have experienced worse trauma in their life but that does not lessen the burden I carry in my heart and mind or help me alleviate the pain I feel in my mind. I do not tell my story for pity or sympathy… but to hopefully give a better understanding of my struggle and why it is difficult for me to overcome some days… and to encourage others to share their story and that it is ok to seek and ask for help… you are not alone <3

… peace and love <3