Scars – A Beginning

Hey guys,

I’ve been writing some memoirs for my Non Fiction classes, and I’ve been delving into my childhood with some detail. It really got me emotional and got me thinking about the power of scars. And how they always stick with you. I’ve written a lot over the years about all this.

Now I’m going to go into some very personal things here, so if you don’t want to know then close this thing right now. I completely understand if you do. There will be no offence taken, trust me.

I have no idea how much I’m going to write, so it could be a long one. You have been warned.

So… I’m writing a book.

A memoir of sorts about my life so far. I’ve had some people say my story is inspirational because of where I am now, compared to where I came from. So I thought I’d share some of what I’ve written. It’s not even first draft quality, but I still feel I should share it with you. I made a promise, to you but mostly to myself when I started this blog, that I wouldn’t put on a show, that I wouldn’t be anything other than open here. The real world, is where I still have to pretend sometimes, or just hold back. And I promise I won’t do so in here.

It’s an opening of sorts, and I’m not even sure if it’s any good. So here goes nothing…

I used to believe that some people are born to fuck up, to fail, to never amount to anything.

We’ll that’s not necessarily the case, but for as long as I can remember, this is how I’ve always felt that way about myself. It’s only really changed in the last few years. I’ve lived a great deal of my life believing I was a disappointment, and was always going to be. And I don’t mean to sound like I want anyone to feel sorry for me, or a “woe is me” kinda thing, because I don’t feel sorry for myself, and I don’t want you to be either… That shit died a long long time ago.

It was more like a skewed up acceptance of my perceived insignificance.

The things that get ingrained in you mind as a kid stick with you, and it can take a long time to udoe the damage. For me, it was growing up. My father was an alcoholic, and full of demons he brought back to him as a Vietnam Veteran. My mother, who was overwhelmed and handled things as best as she could. This is not just about me. Both mum and my sister have both suffered from those years. How my father was back then, will effect all of us for the rest of our lives.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m not writing this book to bash my father, nor my family. I love my Dad. It’s why what he did to us all hurt so much. Even now it still hurts, and it probably always will. It’s a touchy subject with them all. Sometimes I feel when we try and talk about it, it becomes a “who’s hurt more” competition. And everyone has their own version of events. And I understand that.

But this is about MY experience, and what it did to me. And I fight back against the dark thoughts and depression that will always be a part of my life. I’m not trying to be good enough for anyone but me anymore, I have to live with it and I am strong. I am a survivor. It’s a miracle I’m alive. And I am special. My gift to share with the world is my story. And my heart. And the strength I never believed I had. Let me tell you about my life as the son of a Vietnam Veteran. I know there are plenty of stories just like mine. I know I am not alone in this.

I love my Father. My dad has always been important to me. I understand that there are things he can’t say to me. I even understand why alcohol turned him into the man I feared for so many years. I can’t imagine what he went thorough in the War. Things, no one is ever meant to go through. I can never understand the fear, the loss, even the shame of having to go to war. To lose friends.. To kill.

That’s why I love him. That is why I forgive him. But I will never, and I can never forget. I wish I could, and I did so many things over the years trying to. In a way, I became like my father. I even have something of his temper. But I am not my father. I can’t hold my emotions at bay like he did. I am afraid of who I will be whenever I have a drink.

That is why therapy is so important. Because his generation brought up thinking they were weak if they were emotional. And so none of the Veterans knew how to talk about what they went through. They were the soldiers who were made to be ashamed and turned on by the public, called “Baby Murders” and that sort of thing. But I know I will never be like him, and I was afraid I would be for so long. He taught me many things over the years, and some of them not so great. But I did learn things like Respect and Loyalty.

And I’ve learned from his mistakes. I dedicate this book to my family.

To my dad, who I’ve already shared about.

My sister, who I went through hell with. I wasn’t always a good brother to her. I bullied her and took out my anger on her. But the day I split her head open on the corner of that coffee table, and saw all the blood in that towel mum wrapped around her head, I realized I was just like Dad. And I never laid a hand on her since. I’ll never stop regretting how I treated her even 15 years later, but the shame drove me to one day stand up to Dad, and change everything. I’ll never stop trying to protect you if only to make up for ever laying a hand on you. I love you.

And my Mum who I love most, for she did an amazing job with what she had at her disposal. You were the one who showed me it was okay to be sensitive. To be a nerd. You showed me books and Star Wars. I was never going to be the sporty type, I couldn’t even be Dad’s ‘Little Fishing Buddy’ after a while. But I always knew you loved me no matter what kind of person I was. I’m alive, and I’m strong. You did great, all things considered.

We’re all survivors, and that bond will never die. Not through time, or fights or anything else. No matter what happens, you guys will always mean the world to me.

And for Jassinta. Words can never say what I’d like to say. One day I will find a way. I promise.

—–

So yeah. That’s just what I’ve written so far. I’m going to get some second opinion, because I don’t want to come across as being melodramatic, or seeking sympathy. That is not at all what I want. Pity is why I was afraid to ever tell anyone about all of this.

Where I am now, is more important that where I came from.

I didn’t always believe that I would even be alive by now. Hell I tried awful hard to die sometimes. But my love for you all stopped me from doing anything too stupid. I never want to put anyone through that, especially you. I will always love them unconditionally.

And that’s why I don’t regret a thing, but I’d be lying if I wouldn’t have minded it a little easer. But that’s the thing that took so long to realize, that I cannot change it. No amount of booze, drugs or sex could ever change the thing I wanted most. To be someone else. Anything but me. I will always be me and that’s not such a bad thing.

I’m different, and I’m perfectly fine with that.

Thanks for listening guys, and feel free to send some feedback. I’d love as much help as I can to get the tone and everything else as close to perfect as I can.

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