I’ve asked quite a few people how much they remember of their childhood, and most every response I’ve gotten implies my memory is severely flawed. The reality is I remember very littl before the age of 11. Some people will have you think that because my father is a repeatedly-accused child molestor that I am in fact supressing memories of being touched or otherwise sexually violated by him. The truth is, I simply cannot remember. If I was in fact abused as I child, I would not know.
There was one point in my youth where I was told to kneel down in front of my Television by my step-father. He then instructed us to say “I love you Satan” to the TV, as he, I suppose, believed it was a device of the devil, or was just high & confused. I am only aware that event took place as my mother found out about it, and logically, a mother would not be expected to forget a moment like that.
I was also told my step-father smoked marijuana, I was told he got physically violent with my mother, I was told many things about various, clearly significant moments in my life, and I just do not recall.
Regardless, I will tell you what I do know, that my mother was instructed to abort me by the doctor in charge of her pregnancy because I had an oversized head. No, unlike Marilyn Manson I did not survive abortion, my mother simply accepted the risk of me being born deformed both physically and mentally, and fired the doctor who gave her the advice to terminate her pregnancy.
Oddly enough, despite the fact that my head was clearly going to be the largest of her children, her having gave birth to two girls before me, she decided I would be the first she would go through labor with, without using drugs. To this day she talks about what a horrible mistake that was.
I was born with a head that was 15 1/2 inches around, while my chest was only 14 1/2 around, so you can imagine I was quite a silly looking kid.
Something I do remember being aware of was how large my head was in the back, how it stuck out much like I imagined an alien head would. My mom even encouraged me, ironically, to grow out a mullet so I wouldn’t get picked on.
But the truth is, I did get picked on, quite a bit, till one day my mom got sick of it, and taught me how to fight.
From that day to some time after, I became the bully, and others learned to avoid me. This all happened before 2nd grade however, as I don’t remember being a bully to anyone in my entire life, really, only my mother knows what went on in pre-school, kindergarden & first grade.
Sadly, the two memories I do have of my first three years of school are when a boy peed on my leg due to the fact that they didn’t respect the pre-schoolers enough to give them their own bathroom stalls, and getting an uncooked bean stuck up my nose.
I remember being so offended when I saw the row of toilettes when my mom dropped me off for the first time. However the recollection of that emotion only exists because of the clear sensation that I can still feel, of another boys urine running down my leg as he laughed.
I remember seeing a little girl, same age as me, going to the bathroom in front of all the boys like it meant nothing. The lack in sexual segregation, and privacy overwhelmed me. Once I complained to my mom about the boy peeing on my leg, she wrote a complaint, and from that day on whenever I had to go to the bathroom, everyone else had to leave the area alltogether.
As for the bean, well, I felt like I was going to die. Not just because of the bean, I was just afraid in general that I was going to die in my sleep, die by getting hit by a car, die by my heart stopping, getting a brain annurism or whatever else I could come up with.
Eventually I got over the fear of dying, and instead adopted a fear of aliens. I was in second grade and our teacher put on a video about dinasaurs and what they would look like if they were combined with a human.
I don’t know why our teacher thought terrifying imagery was appropriate for such an inexperienced and fearful mind like mine, but many nights after I had a very difficult time climbing into my bunk bed resting above the washer, dryer & water heater (yes, I lived in a 5 x 7 laundry room much of my childhood).
I always look back on my youth with a great sense of appreciation. Most the time it was just myself, my sisters & my mom. We off and on owned various animals to include goats, ducks, chickens rabbits, geese, dogs, cats, fish & even stick bugs at one point.
Every day for many years I would wake up to the sound of the birds in the woods, and the creek just outside the window. The summers were so beautiful in Washington.
After my mom got her second divorce, she began dating again. There was a man who was ten years younger than her, who was really full of life & happiness it seemed. We all kinda liked him & his insanely oversized dog, but things just didn’t work out between them.
Another man she dated for a while, from what I remember, kinda acted like a prick. The only thing I really remember about him was that he liked to tan, had long, creepy curly hair, wore sunglasses a lot & for some reason, took cold showers by choice. I can still remember my mom screaming as he tried to pull her in with him.
The next piece of information I feel is absolute justice for me to pass on to the open world, not only because of how funny some may feel it is, but because I was personally scarred by it, or at least should of been.
My mom dated a man named “Greg”, which happens to be my name as well. The home we lived in, out in the middle of seemingly nowhere, was made of beautiful logs & sliced wood. It had giant windows that birds would fly into and die from regularly & was in the shape of a square, even the roof was part of this giant square, it being completely flat.
The main reason I describe the house to you is to accurate depict how loudly and unforgivably I could hear my mom screaming “Greg” night after night… haunting.
Eventually it stopped when I simply yelled “WE CAN ALL HEAR YOU!” and suddenly, from that point on, silence conquered our household.
Eventually my mom met a slightly overweight, slightly shorter than average native american looking man. She seemed to be really interested in him, so interested she decided to have us all move into his duplex where I not only learned the shame of popping my face-zits on the mirror but discovered how to self-gratify for the first time.
You see, her boyfriend had a wonderful thing I was not familiar with, called “Cable TV”, I would surf through all these channels every other day until late one night I discovered a channel dedicated broadcasting scrambled images accompanied with the sounds of women experiencing orgasms.
Hearing these new sounds, naturally I was incredibly confused and intrigued. I would just stare at the scrambled pictures and feel incredibly nice listening to the sounds until finally, I decided to move on to the zits because this is getting way too creepy.
My life wasn’t very hard as a kid despite the fact we were poor, and could barely afford milk. I lived in the woods by a creek most my young life where we raised animals, if anything, life was ideal for me. It was only upon reaching my late teens did my life become dark & depressing.
I’ll leave it at that.