My Story

This is my story and I am telling it to you because for some reason I feel it is necessary. I never was happy as a kid and don’t have very happy memory’s as a kid the few  I do have I cherish, and the rest I mask with humor to keep the pain from surfacing . My earliest memory is being born, yes I remember being born the sensations the weird smells, and bright lights and a few sounds. The only other recent memory after that is being changed in my home for the first time and not liking the smell of my own excrement. I figure that for a while my life was more or less the same because I don’t remember much until I was about 2, my dad had left on call for the military and I was crying a lot because I missed him. My mom grew frustrated with me I was on the floor crying in the living room, and she picked me up by my head and flung me around and slammed me back into the floor, I began to scream louder and louder because it hurt so she drove her foot into my stomach screaming for me to shut up, she kicked me so hard I flew through the air flipping over 360ing as I flew toward the couch at the opposite end of the room.

This was the first memory I affiliate with emotion, because it was the first time I felt fear, its weird only being 2 and having a understanding of true fear, and not just a fear of monsters or weird sounds that you don’t understand, this was a fear for my own life my own existence, it was unfortunate that at 2 years old I could not comprehend the ability to defend myself. So I took everything she had to give me and all I could do was scream, I screamed so loud I lost my voice and all that came out was raspy whispers. I kept screaming so much I began to throw up, for some reason she would not be a mother to me she wouldn’t hold me instead she wrapped my arms with duct tape, and I instinctively began to kick my legs, so she duct taped my legs to my arms in a hog tied position, she picked my up by my hands and feet and began to swing me around her head screaming shut up as she did, and of course as a 2 year old with autism who couldn’t even speak I did not I tried to keep screaming but all that came out was bile. She flung me into the couch so hard it flew up onto two legs and flipped over. I continued to scream so she started to hit me over and over again, then she got the duct tape and mummified my head in it I was unable to breath so I tried moving my mouth the get room to breathe, I managed to slobber enough to loosen it and let out some more screams, but all that came out was hoarse rasps, she didn’t even give me a chance to inhale she picked me up like a sack of potatoes and flung me into the brick fire place, not the fire pit itself but the brick border, looking back at what happened I’m amazed  I was not killed or knocked unconscious or even bleeding, I just sat there in pain and dazed with no more energy left to scream, I just sat in pain and in wonder at what I had done to make her want to hurt me so much and if there was anything I could do to make her love me again. She suddenly seemed horrified with what she had done and began saying how sorry she was, and began to take off the duct tape and id whine with it ripping at my skin and pulling out what little hair I had the worse what my head because she had to cut my hair to get it off since I had a mushroom head of hair, it was because of this incident I got my first haircut, this was also the first time my mother had to hide the fact that she had a temper, it would be years before I would begin to understand why she was like this, but all the time it never stopped, my dad would leave and she would beat me, and then he would get back and my older brother and sister would hide away in their rooms and lock me out. My younger brother was too young to understand,

                It was not always as severe but most of the time it was sometimes she would use belts, or stoves, or chairs, one time she used a guitar I think the only reason she didn’t use it more often was because it was too expensive to buy another but the time when she smashed it across my face causing the splinters to scrape at my skin as it shattered I remember seeing her face with a look of satisfaction and she pummeled me with the broken remains, then almost annoyed with the fact I was no longer crying as a result of my beatings she opened up a filing cabinet and began to ram the guitar inside the filing cabinet and ramming it shut on the guitar she was raspy and screaming shit shit shit! I try not to linger on what her reasoning behind it was I worry that if I think about it too long I might become like her, I was a hyper kid but not bad I just had a lot of energy. I was always polite saying please and thank you and I always had a fondness and an affinity for animals, no matter how bad things were I could always tame a dog or make a bird come to me or rabbits calms down, I loved animals even from a young age I wanted to do something with them, I would tell myself that maybe if I could take care of them maybe she would she that I’m not a screw up and she might love me. When I was about 5 she stopped beating me as often, she still did but instead what she started doing was spreading lies about me, she would burn dinner and say I messed with the stove or snort Ritalin and say I got into the pill cabinet , while I did get into the pill cabinet it was not for that reason, it was because I had taken a liking to fruity Flintstone vitamins and tums anti acid I liked the fruity flavor, and would climb up the counters to try and sneak more, they didn’t know I knew but I could identify the bottle from the lids and the smell of the pills, and the Flintstone vitamins had a distinctive shape, I remember I would go for Dino first because that meant it was grape and then Fred who was strawberry, I didn’t like betty, or Barney who was orange. My brothers and sisters had a resentment towards me which I suppose towards a certain degree was normal, for most families but not the reason as to why it was around this age I had my first glimpse as to why and what my dad did that made everyone change when he was around and when he left.

I remember waking up late at night to the sound of my dad shouting and my mom crying, I always had a gentle heart and I wanted to make my mom happy in hopes I could gain some sort of approval from her, I wanted to give her a hug, but not in front of dad because she never liked it when I hugged her in front of him, I still was not talking much, so I sneaked down the stairs toward the kitchen, and I saw my dad jabbing his huge hands at my mother’s chest  like a karate chop, and she was heaving and she called him a ass hole and they were shouting about something I could not understand, then I saw him slap her he was clenching something in his hand and when he raised his hand I saw it was my sisters head, he was lifting her by her hair and she was crying, calling her a bitch and a piece of trash, she was crying and wincing in pain, and my mom was begging him to let go of her, she kept saying I’m sorry I’m sorry and all my sister could say was oouuch ow I must of made a noise, because they looked directly at me and I became afraid that they might hit me too so I ran as fast as I could in my power ranger pajamas, back to my room and hid in my covers in my bed, by dog was waiting for me and he laid next to me and I pet him saying dusty please keep me safe don’t let them hurt me, at that age I didn’t know what GOD was I just knew I felt safe with my dog and I held him close and begged him over and over to protect me and not let them hit me anymore when my mom came in he growled at her and stood up, and then my dad shoved her out of the way and grabbed the lamp off my dresser at the foot of my bed and swung it at my dog so hard he was knocked out against the wall, I remember crying dusty! And with the back hand my dad swung and hit me cracking my head, knocking me out, I remember my first time being knocked out because I didn’t want to wake up I wanted my whole life to be a bad dream and not be true, that I really lived with a family that was nice and got along and my doggy did not get hurt, that night I had a strange dream were robbers came into my house and put my dog in a microwave, and I saw his hair falling out and I hugged the microwave in my dream, I woke up in horror but found my dog awake at my side, I hugged him so tight and told him I was sorry I let the robbers kill him in my dream, as a kid I thought this is what a family is this is how all families must be. The only thing that did not make sense was how happy all my friends were, yes even though I was abused I had lots of friends as a kid, it wasn’t difficult when everyone talks about power rangers or cowboys or karate. We all rode bikes we all watched power rangers and to fit in I learned to enjoy these moments. When I would get home in the next couple years my mom instead of beating me she would lock me in the toy chest in my room, it was attached to the wall, she only did that a few times because my dog started to bark at me, he never liked it when they hit me he would always bite them, so they got my dad’s metal chest that  he no longer used and put me in that outside instead it was hot and dark, but I got air through a few holes that the latches would cling to, and sometimes a pillow would be in there, but not always because sometimes I was thrown in hastily and my mom would shake it and say if I kept shouting that I would be taken away and nobody would love me. So after the first few times and there was hundreds of days were I was put in this box because it happened for years, after the first few times I learned not to be afraid that while I was in this box she was not hitting me and I was able to be left to my own thoughts, even among my friends I didn’t speak very much I’d ask if I could play with a toy and say sorry in my own customized s s  s s s s s sorry (I don’t know why I said it like that but I did) but in this box I would whisper to people who were not there I’d tell them that my mommy will love me one day and argue that they were wrong I will do good I won’t be like them, in this box I began to develop my persona it was here I decided who I would become what I would do with my life. In this box I would make up stories and the people who were not there would listen and be amazed with what I had to say, it was weird that something that was meant to be a punishment was one of the few things holding together my sanity as a kid, it was also around this age I was first diagnosed with Sevier autism.

I was told because my mom enjoyed rubbing my flaws in my face that the doctor had said I would never amount to anything, I would become nothing I would live at home my whole life and never ever accomplish anything, my mom likes to pretend that she is dumb, so do I but she certainly has a talent for getting under your skin, and hurting people without showing marks. It was also around this age I began to try telling people about what happened at home, nobody believed me, why would they? My mom was cheery and my dad was a hero. When I met the rest of my family for the first time, aunts uncles cousins, my unkle was telling about old times being swatted with a paddle and I tried my hand at small talk and ended up with a whopper  admitting to my mom swinging an acoustic guitar at my face. He looked at me surprised then rubbed my hair and messed it up saying aww don’t you have just the most adorable imagination, then he was like hey jenny guess what your son just told me, I felt fear because I was worried she would hit me for telling him, but when he told her she laughed and just said well he’s always making up stories like that. That night in my room I was staying in at my grandmas my mom held a pillow over my face until I stopped struggling, I passed out all the time and when Id wake up shed do it again until she could do it without me kicking or screaming, she told me it made me stronger. All of my relatives are relatively rich or successful, as are their kids, so I always wondered why they were so unhappy or always complaining, my grandma owned Westerman printing company right down the street from job corps, and my uncle was one of the head mechanics for the sr71 black bird as well as other military projects at the time, my aunt was a counselor in school , another was a tennis coach, another was a good investor and my grandpa had inherited almost a billion dollars from his great grandparents who owned a bunch of quarries and made a fortune in gravel. Around age 8 I found out all families have secrets one uncle had a habit of beating his wife, the kindly uncle who was a tennis coach had a irrational fear of being paid for work because he was beaten by my grandfather as a kid, and my uncle who was the mechanic was molested by a family friend and had a habit of cheating on his wife with scout moms. Everybody hides their pain and disappointment, so why didn’t they care about mine? The answer wouldn’t be revealed to me until I was an adult, to put it simply they didn’t care or didn’t want to care the were too absorbed in their own delusions that the thought that one of their family could be so monstrous to be one of those evil moms you see on tv could be their own sister couldn’t even register to them. My life was a repetitive series of abuse and neglect and same for my brothers and sisters, my older siblings got the worst from my dad, I can’t prove it but I think that maybe at one time my dad molested my sister because whenever she talks about him she stops and begins to cry and he strangled my older brother more than once, he left me and my younger brother alone for the most part as far as I can tell because we were not step kids, and my mom was good to them but not me probably as far as I can tell in trying to rationalize her way of thinking because my dad loved me, so she took out her anger for him on me. It went on like this for a while into grade school, I’d make friends but never brought them home, I wanted to protect them from my mom.

I was about 12 and my mom had just called me stupid and I began to shout back since starting that school year, she did not like that she slapped me across the face hard so hard in fact my head ran into a wall, but when your 12 and you’ve been beaten almost every day of your entire life, you learn to shrug off a few hits, I would get back up and stare right at her with hate in my eyes, she grabbed my throat and said what’s with the long face you don’t like how I’m treating you, you worthless piece of shit then do something about it. I screamed no! I grabbed her hand and squeezed as hard as  I could and she started to coil up, and I pushed her so hard she flew back I was 12 and I sent her flying, I wish I could say I stood up for myself and established my power over her but I didn’t I was weak minded at the time and didn’t know any better I ran to her side and helped her up saying I’m sorry mommy don’t hate me she yanked away from me and slapped me but I didn’t flinch I did not pull away, and I had a sudden epiphany I was no longer afraid, somehow I had in that moment overcome my fear for her, she could break me and beat me but I would never ever again fear her, don’t get me wrong she still hurt me and my little brother but I no longer let my fear for her control me. I also started to become curious about why things happened and I began to read a lot of books way out of my reading level I had to beg my mom to sign me an adult library card so I wouldn’t get stopped by the librarian when I’d check out books about psychology, and murderers and prison documents and medical journals I wanted to know how common it was that people were raised like me  I was certain that if everyone was like me somebody had to be willing to stop the cycle, remember I still thought all families were like mine.

I was shocked to find out that is not the case, at 12 I was learning about mental health and healthy living and mental disorders and what really interested me was reading about these kids that killed off their entire family I remember wondering to myself what could drive somebody to do something so horrible, I began to read what their lives were like and was astonished to discover that it was quite identical to mine the only difference being I was not molested, in some of the cases I had it a lot worse than they did and I found myself envious of their parents and wish mine were as kind as theirs, it was also this year my dad died he had retired from the military only to have a heart attack. While working for clean harbors. He had it while driving and died I was in the 3rd grade but my mom says I was 10 at the time so I’m not sure at dates when you identify your childhood with various beatings its difficult to keep track sometimes when what happened. I was devastated my dad was nice to me, but my sister was jumping for joy she cried a little but it was almost like she had been released from some kind of prison, like me my older and younger brother was devastated while my dad was abusive he was kinder to my older brother than his moms husband was, who wouldn’t give him the time of day. The beatings from my mom got worse and she became more cruel with her verbal attacks, as if she was no longer leashed. She began saying no a lot too. Like We would joke that she would always say no, it was because my dad never gave her a choice, now she was free and could make her own decisions and didn’t want any of us taking that power from her, so she took us down every chance she got. I started to get bullied at school the other kids did not like the fact I used large words like ostracize, or articulate it made their eyes go cross eyed and it painted an even larger bulls eye when I brought my books from the library to school with me. They didn’t know what psychology is they thought it meant I was psychic; it was probably at this time I lost all patience for stupid people, if your dumb, fine just don’t make it my problem.

Puberty sucked for me it affected my autism like crazy I read compulsively and I’d come home fight with my mom and go to school and get bullied for anything they could think of, I think the worst part was the compassion I felt for the kids I could see the same look in their eyes that I saw when I looked into a mirror, I would think to myself I just wish we could be friends we have so much in common, funny thing about abuse is it makes you smarter if it doesn’t it makes you tougher, and if it doesn’t do those 2 things you die or become a junkie. Most of my graduating class became junkies or joined the military only like 20 of them actually made it I’m still in that pending category, instead of giving you a day to day I’m going to start skipping years until I was about 15 I was thoroughly convinced by my mom that  I was an idiot even though I was reading medical txt books building radios and taking a beginners electronics kit for college students to practice on and making a Morse code device from scratch using a refrigerator magnet   and parts from my rector set to use in place of the pieces I did not have, I was so proud of it my mom smashed it then buried the pieces at my childhood house. Yet none the less I was convinced I was dumb she had power over me like that, she convinced me it was my fault , that my life was the way it was because it was me. SO she told me I was going to be sent to a place for bad people and they would fix me. I was sent to talisman camps which is a place were at risk youth go to be corrected, the only problem was I wasn’t this bad kid, in fact I was so good they used me to model the other kids after, we would back pack across state lines along the Appalachian trail, these times were the happiest moments in my entire life, I felt empowered in a positive way the other kids looked up to me, I made real friends because they were like me and they all could relate to me, they had read my file made more or less by stories my mother told them that were not true or highly exaggerated. They were so surprised that a kid who was supposedly so violent or fowl mouthed or devious could be so friendly or polite and get along with kids from all walks of life and different ages and nationalities. I literally had the most fun I had had ever in my life I would wake up and go to sleep exhausted and covered in mud and sweat, but I loved it.

Only problem was it was only 3 months I had to go home and my mom was in denial so much so she wrote them a letter complaining about how her son is not fixed, they explained we cant fix something that’s not broken, and suggested maybe she seek therapy she still would try to beat me but I no longer thought I was stupid and no longer got angry with her as often because while at camp I met the counselor who was restraining a violent camper and the camper had his dick out and was peeing on the man and giggling about it but the man never lost his composure, I later asked him why he didn’t punch him in the face, I may have been polite and kind but my mom had cut down my fuse long ago to about 2 seconds I asked him why he didn’t murder him or yell at him for being so disgusting? He told me because it wasn’t worth it, I asked so he doesn’t mean anything to you, you see him as less than worth while? HE quickly stopped me and said no I care so much about you campers otherwise I wouldn’t do it because honestly I’m not paid enough, what  I mean is I don’t love him enough to take the time to get angry, I looked at him confused and he continued to say there are only 2 people in my life who I care about enough to take the time to get mad and then work it out with them because I love them and that is my wife, and my mother in law because my parents died when I was very young. He probably didn’t mean it in such a way, but what he said to me that day literally changed my life I found myself wondering why I was so angry, why I let such little things get to me, his name was Joel we called him rocky because he looked and sounded like a young rocky from the movies, he is the only person I will mention by name because he is the only person I have who I can say really changed my life in a positive way. I found myself being more patient and less aggravated with my mother for being so violent with me, she hated it she would scream louder and then eventually lose interest. I began to withdraw from the people I was normally around, because I did not like the negative influence they had on me, I would stay in my room or wander off wherever  my feet would take me sometimes I would travel 12 miles before finally discovering just how exhausted I was. No one noticed whenever I would disappear I would come home through the unlocked open door as it always was unlocked, sometimes my mom would yell about the dishes not being done, but nobody ever mentioned that I was missing or asked were I had been the day before. I found that I liked being oblivious, not noticed. I was in pain a lot less often as long as I avoided people, I found that my knack for discovery and knowledge could take me places I never knew it could, I would walk around until I found somebody doing the lawn or working on a tractor, and I would just ask if they needed help, most of the time I would get a no, but if I just stood there like I was lost people would eventually take interest. I was fascinated by the moving parts of machines, they way gears whirred and clocks ticked. I would take things apart and being to put them back together, then I would get bored and try mixing machines, like a Picasso of machines. It gave me pride that I could do this and nobody else could, yet no matter what I built, what I learned I was still a prisoner of my own home, I found that through the internet I could reach out and learn about the world around me, the more time I spent online the more I was driven to escape from the depression that I lived in. I graduated high school in 2008, and I wanted to go to college, unfortunately I had distanced myself from my family for so long that none of them believed that I had what it would take to succeed, in all honesty looking back on it they were right. It was not that I wasn’t smart enough, because I’m smarter than most people I know, I just wasn’t ready, I was bordering on insanity, a nervous wreck and extremely anti-social, my uncle refused to allow me to go saying It would only end up in failure, I wanted to go for English literature, all I had was a gift for telling stories and a newly acquired high vocabulary and an unrivaled potential for learning, but I wanted to go, I wanted it so bad I could taste it. My uncle said if I wanted to go so badly I had to prove it to him that I had it in me, I had to write him something he had never read before that was so good that it would without a doubt convince him that I had the talent it took to succeed. So I did, I wrote a poem about 1 page long and with most things I write I write it with a little humor, I made it about me waking up in the morning in my boxer shorts and walking over to the window opening the window only to discover it was cold then closing the window, and finally returning to bed on a weekend day, but I wrote it in such a descriptive way with creative words and rhymes that he couldn’t even tell that it was about such an absurd topic, when I looked up after I had finished what I was reading I noticed he was crying, I had never seen the man cry in my life let alone lose his temper, he was the one person who I looked to when I wanted to know how I should act in a stressful situation because he was the definition of chivalrous. I truly admired my uncle and I made him cry over something so silly that I wrote, he looked at me in silence for the longest time before finally saying, that was beautiful.

I no longer heard any more protest from anyone in my family, even my mom said less snide remarks than she usually did, It was weird It was like I finally had all of their support, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared I was petrified. I was bullied almost every day in high school and while I was ahead of most people in my class I had no paper proof to prove it. I was on paper behind everyone else, so I did what I do best, I played with the pieces I had, I purposely missed math questions on the entrance exam then aced the English portion so I didn’t have to work as hard in both sections, I could take easy math classes then work all out on the English until I got were I wanted to then catch up with my math, while I was always good at numbers my words were always my chosen weapon. On the 3rd day in class we were asked to do something simple pick a topic, and write passionate about it, I chose bully and abuse and how to prevent it in future generations, I wrote about how all the time we talk about how bad child abuse is, and neglect and fighting and war. Yet no matter how much of a problem it becomes or how many children go missing, we just sweep it under a rug, in order to actually rid the world the people of the world as a whole have to make a join effort to educate everybody on the dangers problems and triggers that cause abuse. WE have to in future generations be sure to educate developing families and fight poverty on a national level, and ensure to eradicate bulling from schools everywhere by providing affordable counseling for the disturbed and troubled. It was 3 pages long shorter than this story right now, I read it all in 5 minutes which was the required time given for the assignment. I was holding back tears from how much I believed in what I was reading; I did my best to keep eye contact with my audience and was made nervous by the eerie silence of the room when I was finished it was still quiet. Then suddenly one student stood up, and began clapping, 8 people had gone before me and no one really clapped like a few here and there, but this guy stood up and began clapping then another and another, and before I knew it the entire class and the teacher was whipping away tears and smiling and cheering nodding their heads in approval. I smiled for the 2nd time in my life something I did made me smile publicly. I got an A and I actually felt like I deserved it. Sadly it went downhill from there.

                After  I wrote that paper I made a lot of friends and one girl friend I feel so terrible that I can’t remember her name but no matter how hard  I try I can’t, We had been dating about a week and classes were going well, I was understanding and keeping up with my assigned work load, one day she had gone home early from classes and we were talking on the phone as she got off the bus, and she was laughing at something I said I remember she was laughing because I was smiling, I really do like making others laugh. Then I heard a horn and her scream, and she was dead and the line went dead as well. My smile went from that to me shouting in the waiting lounge wondering what the fuck had just happened?

I was a nervous wreck I tried calling but all I got was a dead line, I did not know where she lived so all I could do was wait in agony, a day later  I got a call from her aunt informing me she was dead, she asked if I knew her because in her phone history I came up a lot I told her it was a wrong number, and to this day I feel awful, I started to not sleep, then I was skipping classes I had only known her for a week but I was devastated. I skipped classes I couldn’t stay interested in them, I lied to my family and before I knew it I was no longer leaving the house, I was defeated by  phone call. I was dropped from college, I had been defeated completely. It took months for me to recover, eventually I decided I had to go to the one place that helped me find the strength inside me I went back to the camp I was at as a kid only this time I went as a counselor, turns out it was a great idea, with my autism and childish attitude the kids really looked up to me, one camper told me that I was so awesome  I regurgitated awesome like bleh bleh I was so awesome that when I slept my snoring created a nuclear explosion of awesome that rained down nuclear awesome fallout on everyone making them all more awesome, still today it is the best compliment I have ever received. When I came home after my term working there I was strong again I had regained my confidence, my pride and my power, but  I never was able to remember my girlfriends name. I’m pretty sure it’s floating in my head somewhere hiding for a day when I’m ready to face it but until then it remains lost to me. I started working anywhere I could find it farming was my favorite because I valued a hard day’s work. Also landscaping was a good money maker turns out I had quite the green thumb. Eventually I made it back to college only this time I was ready I took it slow didn’t get into relationships that I would miss, joined the chess club and the magic club, gave it my all and was doing very well, but I had to face reality when I ran out of money. I was trapped at home again with my abusive mother and my brother who was now also becoming a wreck he wouldn’t leave his room for fear of being yelled at by my mom. I had to get out I felt so claustrophobic I hated being at home I felt a unparalleled need to travel, to go somewhere so I joined the core no not job corps or the military I joined AmeriCorps, in Sacramento California I loved it sure it was difficult they made us run every morning in the cold winter air, and the classes were annoying at one time we had a 2 hour class to make sure we knew how to use a shovel, I ended up getting into trouble because we had these 6 hour long classes about customer service that my supervisors fell asleep in, but then I started to too because I guess yawning is contagious, but I got yelled at and was threatened to get fired. I got moved to a different group with a roommate whose name I can’t say, every day he would talk about killing himself and how his day was coming again or how it was only a matter of time before he did himself in. I told my supervisor that I did not feel safe around him, I was worried that he was going to actually do it, and in our contracts we were told that if we needed it psychological help would be provided, they said they would take care of it, I cannot give names because well it’s illegal, their response was to assign a person in our group to be the person we would talk to about our problems, the problem was the person they picked was quite the Debbie downer(not her name) so my roommate got worse saying how he wanted to pop pills then one night he dropped the whopper of all whoppers he told me he killed himself the year before and it was the anniversary of his attempted suicide. He was saying he wanted to do it again because he had no reason to go on living, I was freaked out I didn’t want to walk in and find him actually killing himself, so I confronted my super visor and she said it would be dealt with, but he wasn’t sent home he wasn’t dealt with, it just kept happening he kept talking about it, until one day he started calling me an ass hole saying it was my fault because I reminded him of his brother and a lot of other things I couldn’t understand with his screaming, but we had to share a room, so when we went back to the room he said he couldn’t stand my face and I was sick and tired of hearing him so I told him, if you have a real problem with me we will deal with it, tell me what your problem is, and in his words I was so fucking ugly but so happy and care free it pissed him off so he pushed me and said get out of the way, I said no and said we need to talk this out so it doesn’t keep happening I didn’t want him to hurt himself, he’s like I want to fucking die now get out of my way I bared him from leaving the room and told him to calm down please before we go. Long story short he told me he was sorry said he didn’t mean what I said, thanked me for making him settle down, and then I was fired for assaulting him on account I did not let him leave the room so they wrote it off as a hostage situation instead of self-defense. I got back to my home state at 3 am and I called my mom, but she refused to come pick me up, and so did my aunt they both said I had it coming with 200 bucks in my pocket, no job, no income I was scared but I’m resourceful, I got a cheap hotel and had my lap top and began applying for jobs like crazy, I landed one at McDonalds the first week I was in the hotel only problem was I had not eating anything but a muffin, and all I had in terms of money for food was a red lobster gift card. So the night before my first day of work I bought a crag leg dinner, I felt like shit spending 12 dollars on one meal when I could of bought several full meals It went through me, while I was working the hunger cramps were the worst I was working full shifts every day with nothing to eat and no money to spend and if I ate food on the line I would be fired, I was motivated at first but after 4 days of only water and 1 muffin I began to get sick. It started with the runs and then I began throwing up the water that I was chugging to try and stave off hunger, I am strongly against stealing so I didn’t even consider it, but my work began to slip, and then I started to drop things and finally I passed out when I sat down on break, I couldn’t keep going. I went to get up for work then I ended up pooping bloody water. So I called in sick and there was a 30 day starting policy so I was fired on the spot. With no money no job my aunt and uncle drove me down town were I got the title of officially homeless. I started at the drop then upgraded to the light house on high land. And discovered that I could sell my plasma for money, I got into weed then. Before then I had been very against using drugs, but I felt so empty and crappy that I no longer cared and the weed made me feel amazing, but with all good things they do eventually come to an end I had to find an apartment so I ended up moving in with some pot head friends I met at the light house, one of them I knew from high school and was more than surprised to find him there of all places.

There the three of us were in that shit whole cock roach infested apartment, on more than one occasion I woke up with roaches in my hair, or had to stop eating a full meal because one would get into my food. I started getting sick, selling my plasma and living in unclean conditions, I had to get out so I got clean off weed and came here to job corps, and now here I am