Crystal Clear Days of Insanity

Growing up through grade school and junior high I had infatuation on a girl named Robin.  How it started was a few dreams about her and it just took on a life of it's own.  Now as a guy I wasn't making little hearts with are initials in it or such.  However she stood in my mind.  Also since we both have our last names starting with "V" meant we sat together a lot.  She never gave me the time of day, but I am happy to look back and  remember having asked her out to a dance of two.  How I did it back then is a mystery.  I don't remember any help from my Mom or bro on the subject.  Although I do remember my Mom joking that I had a thing for blonds which was untrue then as it is today.  When I moved out of the area I wrote a letter professing my love or something to that affect.  It's one of those things you regret for your entire life.  Although I never saw her again I always felt like a fool for it.  That shame was like a large rock in my back pocket.  Not killing me, but I always knew it was there and I would just shove it in another pocket when it came up.  It's funny how I can keep things alive for decades when the other person involved probably forgot them long ago. 

Well I popped that bubble years ago removing that annoying rock.  However her name came to memory two nights ago.  A little twist of the soul came with it.  When I pulled out my pockets again I saw that some residue was still there.  That old feeling is that insanity of what didn't I do to make them love me?  What could I have done more?  It's an old tape.  Very interesting to see it so far in the past and how it has colored my life.  Even though I still can struggle with it, I'm happy that it doesn't dominate my life.

mikev009 at 3:50:52 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 2 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

My father worshipped money and was a slave to it.  Having it meant you wanted it from him.  It was his apple that he offered to you.

I remember being four or five and him showing me all this money that was in the bank for me.  Like 70-80K.  I though it was pretty cool, but I thought the same about the frogs in the backyard also.  My Dad always holding temptation out in his hand.  Never wanted it from him.  I wanted attention and interaction, but that would never come.

I write this since I had a dream about my Dad last night as I do every once in a while.  He called me and wanted to give me a mattress (my friend needs one) so I went to his place to pick it up.  When I turned around it was my old first car and it was packed with stuff and not able to transport the mattress (like me not able to accept what my father offered).  So I stood there and knew I would need my new car so I though about it till it appeared (okay I've worked through my stuff and I'll try accepting you).  Only to find out there is no mattress it's a ugly padded headboard (same old crap being dished out).  So I told him I didn't need it and left (which is pretty much what I've done in life).

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I awoke last night to my roommate leaving for work.  I heard him go down the stairs all normal like, but I was on full alert.  My heart hammered in my chest and my pulse raced. 

As I calmed myself down that nothing was out of the ordinary.  I remembered being little and my earliest memories of being put to bed.  It was a pretty sterile place with the only rug being my parent's room.  Their was no pomp to me being put to bed.  However I do know as soon as I was put down the fighting would start.  The arguing, the screaming were my lullabies that put me to sleep.

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When I was in first grade I remember learning how to spell book from my brother and Mom one night.  I was pretty excited as most kids are at learning new stuff.  At school the next day to show off my new word I spelled it for everyone - bock.  Everyone laughed and said I was wrong.  I argued the point, but eventually lost.  What I truly lost that day was trust in my family for having lied for whatever reason.  Drunk, high, or just plain crazy.

mikev009 at 9:43:22 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 1 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

I don't know what made me remember this. 

In fourth grade gym class we were given a homework assignment of making a list of all football positions.  This stands out as the hardest assignment I've had in my life.  It was just my Mom and me.  I knew she wouldn't know so I searched the old encyclopedia we had, dictionary, maybe something else.  I got a weird list of names that made no sense to me.  Looking back I believe since their is offensive and defensive positions.  I remember standing in class feeling so separate from everyone else since it had been easy for everyone.  The teacher never did anything with it or looked at it for that matter. All that stress and worry for nothing. 

I think I know all the positions now, but I wouldn't bet money on it.

mikev009 at 12:36:39 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 3 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

The pressure is mounting to the breaking point with Christmas looming in the near future.  I can't stand the thought of getting together with my brother and his new wife at our Mom's house for Christmas.  The stress it is causing is crushing.  I think that my brother cheating on his old wife with his new one has pushed me past my point.  Our issues have reached a peak and I can no longer take it any longer.

So we visit my Mom earlier and celebrate shortly with her, before saying we won't be here when he gets here.  My wife describes my brother's retaliatory phone call evil.  The coyote in me decides that it is time to cut my brother off since nothing good is coming of the relationship.

It's a rough phone call and a lot of crying on my end and pleading on my brothers end.  It was the second worst limb chewing off that I ever did.

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I came home from school and walked in the back door like usual.  There on the floor was my Mom's boyfriend not moving.  He wasn't responsive.  I ran to the front door and yelled for my Mom.  Wherever she was.  I heard hear yell from the next door neighbors.  I remember yelling for her to come quickly.  She responded by saying in a while.  Then I yelled that Larry was on the floor.  I hear her curse and that's it.  I don't remember anymore of the incident.  Paramedics must of come and took him to the hospital.  I know he died a few days later.  For the life of me the rest of the time is a mystery.  I like to think its because I hated him so much, but I know its that my mind was overloaded. 

mikev009 at 12:28:39 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 4 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Someone just shared on here about a girl in 7th grade who committed suicide.  It reminded me of my niece Sarah who killed herself a few years back. 

My oldest brother Mike is a few cans short of six pack.  In his marriage he had 2 kids.  His son he kept possession of but his daughter was bounced back and forth like a object instead of a person.  She was a troubled child, but who wouldn't be when handed back and forth like a CD when problems arose. 

I remember at my bleakest moment I still had people that carried about me and that is what stopped me.  To imagine to have less than nothing since the people that should be their for you are not.

I remember the call that she was dead.  A tragic end to a tragic life.

mikev009 at 9:55:13 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 6 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

When I was growing up my brother use to say it was the like the inquisition when he and his brother were young with our Mom.  Belts, shoes, etc. were common objects to be beaten with.  He said I had it better and compared to him I probably did, but that didn't make it good.

The scar those beating have left on me is the fear of the unknown especially with women when things are bad.  This all came about by my Mom just blowing it every once and a while.  The door would open and most of the time it was a tired, friendly person.  However ever once in a while the angry monster was there.  There was no talking to it, no apologizing, or no mercy with it.  Looking back I see that my Mom had enough of a mind not to hit where bruised skin would show.  Legs were her favorite.

mikev009 at 3:02:10 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 5 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

(Circa 1983)

I sit in my basement room away from everyone.  I hold one of my larger knives.  I have many.  They are never far away.  Close to where I sleep. 

Why?  I don't know.  Security?  Protection?  Power?  I look at the way the light plays on the metal.

Tired of not knowing what I want to do with myself.  Tired of being discarded.  Tired of the yelling.  Tired of the pain.

It would be easy.  Stabs?  Slashes?  I tap the blade against my hand.

What will my young nephews think when I am found?  I don't like that thought.

I tap the blade against my hand.  Pondering.  I put the blade away and go do something else.

 

mikev009 at 1:23:39 PM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 3 comments: Show Recent | Add your own