A Life of Compromise: 3. How To Be Rescued and Then Abandoned
Last updated: 26 Apr 2020 19:26
How To Get Rescued and Then Abandoned
Since my first job at the local Taco Bell, I have primarily earned a wage doing one of two things: Combat Photographer in the US Air Force (which my career ended short because I missed my dentist appointment) and since 1996, a worker bee in Information Technology as a Systems Administrator. Having a long, successful (read: gainfully employed and employable) IT career meant that you had to be decent at documentation. In my particular line of work, documentation was paramount for the morbid fear of your Systems Administrator being hit by a bus. I think I am one of the few geeks and nerds in this career field who sincerely enjoys documentation. So I mention all of this to say that I titled this particular chapter as if it were one of the thousands of HOW-TO articles I have written in my career.
So, in short, this is how to get rescued and then subsequently abandoned:
- Be a five-year-old boy
And in my experience, that is it.
Understandably, that is a considerable oversimplification. And yet, based on the amount of experience and the tiny amount of answers I have received, that is the best answer I have.
So, here is that story.
With my dad being the type of man that he was, I can only assume that parents’ relationship was troubled, dysfunctional, and abusive. I can imagine this because the best thing my mom did when my brother and I were with her. My mother took her two baby boys and ran away.
Now here we go. Up until this point, nothing really made sense. But looking back, I think this, legally called, kidnapping had to be the first glimmer of hope I had in my five-year-old self.
Now, it wasn’t perfect. I distinctly remembered living in several strangers’ homes and run-down motels while on the lam. I know it wasn’t particularly safe since I remembered some old Korean guy yelling at me in Korean and popping me with his cane. But one pleasant memory I had before being found by my dad, my grandmother, and Rylie was my mom becoming friends with this nurse and her little girl. The moms would chit-chat over coffee and morning airings of Press Your Luck while the nurse’s daughter, my brother and I would play with toys and jump on motel beds. Oh, sweet, sweet times. But those sweet times came to an abrupt halt because my dad found us. And as I stood around in the motel parking lot looking up at my dad, grandma, and Rylie trying to figure out, “Ok, I am back to being unsafe. Now what?”
Oh, little boy, if you only knew what special hell you were about to endure.
Despite the amount of insane crap that little boy had endured up until that point, there was absolutely no frame of reference for what will take place over the next seven years.
When I think of my life and think of the particular hell that I experienced, that hell’s timeline is limited to when I had to live with my dad. But going to live with my dad did not happen in a vacuum. A lot of things have to go wrong to get to that level of wrong.
First thing I point to: my mom left me when I was five years old.
Now that I have attended loads of therapy, I know that statement was the wrong way of saying it. The correct way of saying that:
My mother abandoned me when I was five years old.
And ever since then, only the women closest to me would abandon me in some way or form. Left me to the perversion of my dad. Abandoned me to fend for myself. Abandoned me to defend myself. Abandoned me to me.
The truth that I painfully had to learn before the age of six is that I am terribly alone in this world, and I have no safe place to be.
I always kept women in my life at arm’s distance because the truth is told, I was too afraid to know that they are just as capable of stop loving and stop caring as my mom was.
This makes me really think: did I become addicted to porn because I was introduced to porn by the age of 6, or was it I never wanted a woman to get too close to me. Now, I know the answer is both.
My mother abandoned me, her baby boy, did a real number on me–train wreck after train wreck marriage notwithstanding.
I know more than anything is that I spent most of my life knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was completely and utterly unlovable. And when I realize that and sit in that belief, I have to ask the question, “Why am I alive when I could be better off not alive?”