I got fucked.
I had two places locked for new places for me to live...
They both changed their mind at the last minute.
The one I really wanted - and I got along with them awesome - did a credit and backround check. I passed it. I think it also revealed the fact that I'm a manic depression... and thought they didn't say it; I think it was that. I understand, I know before I was diagnosed I looked at people in such conditions as crazy. Maybe I am crazy. I just don't know anymore.
I grew up in about the poorest part of Green Bay there is. My parents lived in the projects until my Dad saved enough money to buy a 15,000 condemed house that he and his friends made livable again.
My mother had a terrible childhood filled with emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. When my dad rescued her she was engaged to his best freind who was beating the crap out of her on a regular basis. She was carrying alot of baggage and she dropped it all on my sister, father, and I.
My dad was working two fulltime jobs till I was four, my mom used to just lock me in my room all day so she didn't have to deal with me. My dad didn't have a clue until she accidentally locked herself in the room with me one day.
By five we had moved and my sister was born. I was therapy for my mother at that time in two ways:
she used to come home every day after taking care of her dad's shit - who she was taking care of - and tell me about every horrible thing that ever happened in her life... I think it helped for awhile. I used to look back and think; after all the stuff she just told me... how could she of done those things to me. It was mostly emotional, some physical... but she's 5'2'' and 100 pounds so it had more of an emotional impact on me. I took example from my father... when he was home and my mom flipped he would absorb everything. So when my dad wasn't home I did the same to keep the shit off my younger sister.
It never got any better.
When I was twelve I had my first gun pulled on me by some gang banger. In my neighborhood you didn't let anyone push you around so it some razzed you, you razzed back. It, most of the time, was just words. This time it seemed that way. Honestly, no body could beat my wit or beat me up for that matter. So when this kid started saying shit, said something back. Three seconds later there was a gun in my face. He then proceeded to humilate me. He made me drop my pants, drop my drawers, and get down on my knees to kiss his feet. Then he kicked me in the face as hard as he could before left.
A couple months later, the pressure final boiled over in my mom. She slit he wrists and tried to kill herself. I saw it all. There is nothing like seeing your dad carry your mom out of the bathroom unconcious towels wrapped around her wrist soaked in blood. Luckily, my sister was away at a sleep over. My mom spent three weeks in the hospital, but survived. The abuse didn't stop though. My dad thought it was all his fault so he and my mom started going to marriage counseling with our priest. (I was raised Roman Catholic) It wasn't helping anything because my mom wasn't dealing with her past. She just fell into my father's dilusion of it being his fault and blamed everything on him. The abuse didn't stop.
When I was fourteen, my mom cried for help again. This time she fiegned suicide. Saying she swallowed a bunch of pills and then she covered her wrists with ketchup to make it look like she slit her wrists when ran out the bathroom at my father. This time the ambulance came. They took her to the hospital and pumped her stomach but found nothing. She was out a few days later. The abuse didn't stop.
When I was sixteen, October 22. My life changed forever. My eyes were forced totally open. Most people never really have to face the truth of existance, on that day... I did. My mom told me that she didn't love me. She said that I was an accident, that she never wanted me... she only wanted my sister, and that I ruined her and my father's life. I was a damning burden. And it was the way she said it. You know something is true if a person stops, calms themself, collects their thoughts... and then tells you something. I took off on my bike for twenty miles, rode to my grandmas... but it was too late and I was too ashamed to wake them up. I hid my bike in the bushes and tried to sleep on the ground. It was too cold. So I went back home, I trashed my fucking bike when I got there, I took my anger out on the GT performer. You have never seen a bike so trashed.
She never apologized, the abuse didn't stop.
When I was seventeen, I went to the 24 hour walmart after everyone had gone to sleep. I bought some rope. I went down to the train bridge where my friends and I would hang out and fish and shit that we named Uooga. I tied the rope to the bridge girder and tied the other end to my neck and jumped off. I tried to kill myself. The knot I tied obviously sucked, because it gave and I fell about twenty feet and spained my ankle. I was so humilated.
The next year I dropped out of highschool my senior year and hit rock bottom. To tell you the truth, I don't remember much of the year until one day I woke up and decided to get my shit together. I don't know why. I entered myself into the alternative school to make up the year. I made up a whole year of work in three weeks and graduated with my class in 1999.
I enrolled at UWGB the next year. Two of my best friends broke up, and I refused to take sides so one turned all our mutual friends against me. I basically lost all my friends. Then my roomate at the dorms turned me in for having beer in my mini-fridge. I got a 912.00 fine, got kicked out the dorms, got put on acedemic probation, and had to attend AA type meeting put on by the university. I had to go back home. I broke. I ended up in the hospital. It was the first time I actually started getting help. I got a pretty good repoir going with my doc and things seemed to be turning around. I enrolled in UW-Milwaukee for that fall.
In MIlwaukee, I found a purpose school. But, I was alone and I don't do well at making friends. Also, I had no medical support, so if I dropped of the edge I was fucked. I hooke up with some people from highschool and started hanging out with them. So that was cool. Then one night I was coming home from a house party and got jumped by someone I had pissed off at the party. He got me pinned to the ground and was choking me out... my hand scrambled and found a piece of a brick. I hit him with it. I kept hitting him. Now, I've beaten people up before in self defense, but this was different. I lost control. His face totally closed up and swelled purple. I thought I killed him. I took off and went home. I watched the news for a week, every broadcast hoping I didn't see anything about a UWM student being beaten to death. I told my dad about it next week and he told me that it didn't do any good to go the police now, they would never believe that it was self-defense and to just hope I didn't kill him. I saw him on campus a couple weeks - he didn't remember me - his arm was in a sling and his face was still messed up. I probably put him in the hospital. I was relieved... but ashamed. I'm just not somone to fuck with. I stopped going to house parties and stopped drinking all together. So basically then, there was no one to hang out with. I fell into darkness and ended ruining my semester. I stayed with it though, got hooked up with some support on campus and next semester I busted my ass and got a four point.
Next year I moved in with some younger guys I met in the dorms. It was also the year I started to hang out with my friend Casey from High School, which is the best thing I ever did. That fall semester was great. Then came spring. My roomates turned out to be racist, druggy, assholes that would keep me up until 6am everymorning. With school the stress got to me. I really don't remember what happened but they ended up calling the cops and said I was trying to kill myself... I seriously wasn't. So, the cops came. Cops don't like me, and I don't like them. They weren't sensitive to the situation at all either. I barricaded my room. One got his hand through the door and maced me. Then they got in, but it was on. I said before that I'm not somone you fuck with. I punched the fucker that maced me right in the jaw, broke it and knocked him out. Then I was just trying to keep them off me. I threw a couple against the wall but eventually eight cops overbeared me and got me cuffed and shackled. I was dragged out shirtless like a guy on cops in front of the whole neighborhood. There were 15 cop cars and a paddy wagon that took me to county in front of my house. If I ever wanted to kill myself it was in that moment. I was lucky they thought I was trying to kill myself otherwise I would have been going to prison. In the end I was in the hospital for three weeks and was give a court mandate demanding at least six months of counseling twice a week. However, when I got home I found out that my roomates were trying to kick my ass. They said that after what they saw what I did to the cops, they feared for their lives. It was bullshit. Then I had to deal with the landlord. Eventually, we all moved out to place I'm at now. I ended up suing the landlord and he settled. With everything that spring semester ended up getting ruined.
The next fall Casey transfered to UWGB back home and I lost practically all my friends here in Milwaukee, but was able to hang in there and did well. Then November, my mom got rear ended and got her back broken in two places. I finished the semester. In the spring it started out well, then someone applied for a credit card in my name and and charged a bunch of shit. That person turned out to be one of my roomates. And that brings me stuggling to find a place to live by the end of this month.
I don't what I've been doing wrong, but I've been doing something wrong my entire life that ends up putting me in the path of the tornado. I stopped blaming people along time ago, and self-loathing. Still it's hard sometimes to not ask, "Why me."
I you think I wrote about everything, it's not even 25% of it. I just know I must be doing something wrong, because... shit keeps happening.
So know I get to move back to Green Bay. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do about school. I honestly don't know what to do. I'm getting better at dealing with pain everytime something like this happened.
Which leads me to my mantra for life:
"Tragedy inspires the soul."
I had two places locked for new places for me to live...
They both changed their mind at the last minute.
The one I really wanted - and I got along with them awesome - did a credit and backround check. I passed it. I think it also revealed the fact that I'm a manic depression... and thought they didn't say it; I think it was that. I understand, I know before I was diagnosed I looked at people in such conditions as crazy. Maybe I am crazy. I just don't know anymore.
I grew up in about the poorest part of Green Bay there is. My parents lived in the projects until my Dad saved enough money to buy a 15,000 condemed house that he and his friends made livable again.
My mother had a terrible childhood filled with emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. When my dad rescued her she was engaged to his best freind who was beating the crap out of her on a regular basis. She was carrying alot of baggage and she dropped it all on my sister, father, and I.
My dad was working two fulltime jobs till I was four, my mom used to just lock me in my room all day so she didn't have to deal with me. My dad didn't have a clue until she accidentally locked herself in the room with me one day.
By five we had moved and my sister was born. I was therapy for my mother at that time in two ways:
she used to come home every day after taking care of her dad's shit - who she was taking care of - and tell me about every horrible thing that ever happened in her life... I think it helped for awhile. I used to look back and think; after all the stuff she just told me... how could she of done those things to me. It was mostly emotional, some physical... but she's 5'2'' and 100 pounds so it had more of an emotional impact on me. I took example from my father... when he was home and my mom flipped he would absorb everything. So when my dad wasn't home I did the same to keep the shit off my younger sister.
It never got any better.
When I was twelve I had my first gun pulled on me by some gang banger. In my neighborhood you didn't let anyone push you around so it some razzed you, you razzed back. It, most of the time, was just words. This time it seemed that way. Honestly, no body could beat my wit or beat me up for that matter. So when this kid started saying shit, said something back. Three seconds later there was a gun in my face. He then proceeded to humilate me. He made me drop my pants, drop my drawers, and get down on my knees to kiss his feet. Then he kicked me in the face as hard as he could before left.
A couple months later, the pressure final boiled over in my mom. She slit he wrists and tried to kill herself. I saw it all. There is nothing like seeing your dad carry your mom out of the bathroom unconcious towels wrapped around her wrist soaked in blood. Luckily, my sister was away at a sleep over. My mom spent three weeks in the hospital, but survived. The abuse didn't stop though. My dad thought it was all his fault so he and my mom started going to marriage counseling with our priest. (I was raised Roman Catholic) It wasn't helping anything because my mom wasn't dealing with her past. She just fell into my father's dilusion of it being his fault and blamed everything on him. The abuse didn't stop.
When I was fourteen, my mom cried for help again. This time she fiegned suicide. Saying she swallowed a bunch of pills and then she covered her wrists with ketchup to make it look like she slit her wrists when ran out the bathroom at my father. This time the ambulance came. They took her to the hospital and pumped her stomach but found nothing. She was out a few days later. The abuse didn't stop.
When I was sixteen, October 22. My life changed forever. My eyes were forced totally open. Most people never really have to face the truth of existance, on that day... I did. My mom told me that she didn't love me. She said that I was an accident, that she never wanted me... she only wanted my sister, and that I ruined her and my father's life. I was a damning burden. And it was the way she said it. You know something is true if a person stops, calms themself, collects their thoughts... and then tells you something. I took off on my bike for twenty miles, rode to my grandmas... but it was too late and I was too ashamed to wake them up. I hid my bike in the bushes and tried to sleep on the ground. It was too cold. So I went back home, I trashed my fucking bike when I got there, I took my anger out on the GT performer. You have never seen a bike so trashed.
She never apologized, the abuse didn't stop.
When I was seventeen, I went to the 24 hour walmart after everyone had gone to sleep. I bought some rope. I went down to the train bridge where my friends and I would hang out and fish and shit that we named Uooga. I tied the rope to the bridge girder and tied the other end to my neck and jumped off. I tried to kill myself. The knot I tied obviously sucked, because it gave and I fell about twenty feet and spained my ankle. I was so humilated.
The next year I dropped out of highschool my senior year and hit rock bottom. To tell you the truth, I don't remember much of the year until one day I woke up and decided to get my shit together. I don't know why. I entered myself into the alternative school to make up the year. I made up a whole year of work in three weeks and graduated with my class in 1999.
I enrolled at UWGB the next year. Two of my best friends broke up, and I refused to take sides so one turned all our mutual friends against me. I basically lost all my friends. Then my roomate at the dorms turned me in for having beer in my mini-fridge. I got a 912.00 fine, got kicked out the dorms, got put on acedemic probation, and had to attend AA type meeting put on by the university. I had to go back home. I broke. I ended up in the hospital. It was the first time I actually started getting help. I got a pretty good repoir going with my doc and things seemed to be turning around. I enrolled in UW-Milwaukee for that fall.
In MIlwaukee, I found a purpose school. But, I was alone and I don't do well at making friends. Also, I had no medical support, so if I dropped of the edge I was fucked. I hooke up with some people from highschool and started hanging out with them. So that was cool. Then one night I was coming home from a house party and got jumped by someone I had pissed off at the party. He got me pinned to the ground and was choking me out... my hand scrambled and found a piece of a brick. I hit him with it. I kept hitting him. Now, I've beaten people up before in self defense, but this was different. I lost control. His face totally closed up and swelled purple. I thought I killed him. I took off and went home. I watched the news for a week, every broadcast hoping I didn't see anything about a UWM student being beaten to death. I told my dad about it next week and he told me that it didn't do any good to go the police now, they would never believe that it was self-defense and to just hope I didn't kill him. I saw him on campus a couple weeks - he didn't remember me - his arm was in a sling and his face was still messed up. I probably put him in the hospital. I was relieved... but ashamed. I'm just not somone to fuck with. I stopped going to house parties and stopped drinking all together. So basically then, there was no one to hang out with. I fell into darkness and ended ruining my semester. I stayed with it though, got hooked up with some support on campus and next semester I busted my ass and got a four point.
Next year I moved in with some younger guys I met in the dorms. It was also the year I started to hang out with my friend Casey from High School, which is the best thing I ever did. That fall semester was great. Then came spring. My roomates turned out to be racist, druggy, assholes that would keep me up until 6am everymorning. With school the stress got to me. I really don't remember what happened but they ended up calling the cops and said I was trying to kill myself... I seriously wasn't. So, the cops came. Cops don't like me, and I don't like them. They weren't sensitive to the situation at all either. I barricaded my room. One got his hand through the door and maced me. Then they got in, but it was on. I said before that I'm not somone you fuck with. I punched the fucker that maced me right in the jaw, broke it and knocked him out. Then I was just trying to keep them off me. I threw a couple against the wall but eventually eight cops overbeared me and got me cuffed and shackled. I was dragged out shirtless like a guy on cops in front of the whole neighborhood. There were 15 cop cars and a paddy wagon that took me to county in front of my house. If I ever wanted to kill myself it was in that moment. I was lucky they thought I was trying to kill myself otherwise I would have been going to prison. In the end I was in the hospital for three weeks and was give a court mandate demanding at least six months of counseling twice a week. However, when I got home I found out that my roomates were trying to kick my ass. They said that after what they saw what I did to the cops, they feared for their lives. It was bullshit. Then I had to deal with the landlord. Eventually, we all moved out to place I'm at now. I ended up suing the landlord and he settled. With everything that spring semester ended up getting ruined.
The next fall Casey transfered to UWGB back home and I lost practically all my friends here in Milwaukee, but was able to hang in there and did well. Then November, my mom got rear ended and got her back broken in two places. I finished the semester. In the spring it started out well, then someone applied for a credit card in my name and and charged a bunch of shit. That person turned out to be one of my roomates. And that brings me stuggling to find a place to live by the end of this month.
I don't what I've been doing wrong, but I've been doing something wrong my entire life that ends up putting me in the path of the tornado. I stopped blaming people along time ago, and self-loathing. Still it's hard sometimes to not ask, "Why me."
I you think I wrote about everything, it's not even 25% of it. I just know I must be doing something wrong, because... shit keeps happening.
So know I get to move back to Green Bay. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do about school. I honestly don't know what to do. I'm getting better at dealing with pain everytime something like this happened.
Which leads me to my mantra for life:
"Tragedy inspires the soul."
that took some strength to tell your situation....
I hope something works out for you.
Im sending you positive thoughts
xoxo