In a hurry?
Continue reading for my heart-wrenching true story…
WARNING: This is a true story and an accounting of events that occurred in my life. There are not any embellishments and I am unable to tone it down as this is what happened to me. There are 4 parts to this story as of 3/11/13.
If you only read the first part you will miss out on a really good read that will grab your heart and will not let go. I have taken the time and energy to write all of this so please do not be disrespectful by just reading a page and then sending me a message “Oh I’m so sorry…” you must read it all.
You must be strong in reading the story as there are accounts of abuse to a child and can be hard to take – it is my story.
My True Story
… Takes a deep breath … here we go.
I was thinking back over the past year, I think I spent over 1,000 hours composing, arranging and mixing the music on my CD. That’s not counting the 3D artwork. What makes this so big in my life is because (in a nutshell) I am, to a degree, like one of those guys you see in movies or television like very mild “Rain Man”; to others I am “somewhat retarded; alone in society, I am not considered much by others.” … This being said… if you give me the right tools I will create nice things for you like with a computer I can write, create music and animation with no education at all. How can this be? The grace of God. Friends come to visit and watch me work and sit in awe as I work in 3D.
Tonight I publish my first physical CD and now I move on to the 3D movies for each one.
But first I am working on a teaser for the world to hear which is music in a 3D space (moving 3D space) … it is so frickkin’ cool. There will be 6-8 movies eventually.
Yet everything I just told you above does not amount to much as I am considered disabled and have some brain damage from my 11+ years of severe and extreme child abuse, starvation, neglect and brutal beatings to the point of blood and concussions; which would occur daily. I eventually escaped and went on to create my life the best I could. It was a long horrible ordeal.
I was severely and brutally abused and neglected by my mother and father over and over from about age 6 to 17. This encompasses my “formation years” as to how I perceive my world…so, needless to say, one might say “Oh that kid is gonna be screwed up as an adult…” – this was the depth and brevity of my life.
My parents were never even investigated. I remember the days I would go to school all bruised. Why didn’t anybody say anything? There were two men that came to the house one day when I was a kid to take us away but my father yelled and slammed the door shut with such a force that the windows shook in the living room. They left and didn’t come back. I will never forget that day. I wish I had yelled so loud that they would get me. You cannot believe the heartache.
My teenage life culminated in my father attempting to murder me on a freezing night in February. Seered into my memory is a 300 lb. man; manhandling a literal; literal 90 lb. weakling and tossing him around like a rag doll.
My father was alcoholic so he would go flying off the handle for no reason; just like my mother when she didn’t have her cigarettes or “diet pills”. This night; in his fury and beating me and taunting was the one that did me in so-to-speak … by my father’s hands … And then came the bashing of my head into the cement; over and over and over. I was literally one blow from being dead when someone pulled my father off of me. I had already endure other forms of brutality leading up to this moment and my body was frail so I could not fight back. I was like a rag doll.
With no recuperation whatsoever or medical attention all family members went into the house as ordered by my parents. About 2 minutes goes by and a garbage bag appears from my sister I think and I am told by my father that I am now left to my own never to come back. I was only wearing a cheap pair of K-mart jeans and a t-shirt.
It was freezing in February, it was at night around 9 p.m. … and I was shaken to the core of my being and so brutally beaten I could barely walk.
I managed to gain enough strength to go to a pasture away from the house where I eventually collapsed with this garbage bag with a t-shirt in it.
I collapsed and I couldn’t move any more.
It was so cold and the despair was incomprehensible.
Some time had passed.
Everything became distorted in my mind as my real-time view of the world around me warped and the slightest sound was an echo in my mind.
I remember there were no cars about in the neighborhood. No people walking. I kept stumbling away from the house to escape for good.
I could see where I live now, off in the distance.
It’s here my body gave out and I fell to the ground and there I was – just laying there.
Some time had gone by.
I was aways in what some would call a pasture. I was shivering from the cold. My world was seen from a side-view as a stark and eerie silence taken hold. Time had slowed down in my mind. It was here my life was broken but something was pulling me to not give up.
<I AM SORRY I NEED TO CRY … I WILL BE BACK IN A MINUTE>
I prayed to God for help and more importantly I cried out literally and wept “Why? Why me? I didn’t do anything! Nothing! Why me?” You cannot believe the misery and suffering at this point. A few moments went by and I managed to gain the energy to scout my options and eventually to get to a church across the pasture.
My despair was so great at this point. Literally, I had done nothing wrong to nobody in this world and my whole life has been nothing but beatings and humiliation and slavery. Now my body can’t take any more at this point and the realization that “I have not done anything wrong…” makes it even more painful.
So, I saw this church on the other side of this pasture and I saw some lights.
I managed to gather the strength to get help.
It took a lot of effort to walk through the pasture. It was freezing. I only had a t-shirt and jeans. I don’t remember if I had shoes; I don’t think I did. I limped to the church and my head and face were pounding, throbbing from the bashing; I had a hard time walking straight line.
I had just been beaten brutally and if you saw me I was a skeleton; I only weighed 90 lbs. I was horribly bruised and exhibited obvious concussions and swelling. Coincidentally; there were other times where I was directly beaten with objects to the head over and over and other parts of my body – by the hand of my mother mostly. There were always severe and brutal punishments; the pains that you hope to God you never experience. This was my whole life from the age starting at 6 to 17.
<OK, BACK TO THE CHURCH>
I managed to get to the church and I walked into the church and I heard some people. I had never been here before. The door was cracked to a room with people. It was a Wednesday night Bible Study; Parkwood Methodist Church (Pasadena/Deer Park area outside Houston, TX). I heard them inside ending a prayer and feet scuffling of people coming out. I just stood there; did not say a word.
These people came out of the room and saw me and still I did not say a word.
I could not speak; I did not know how to talk too good at that time but they saw what needed to be done. I was ushered home with one of my classmates who was there and her family for the night. They did not know what to do with me; but that night and the safety and security; even if to a living room floors was enough for me and that help turned into something more.
I managed to not go back home for a short while; nobody knew what to do with me. Couch to couch; people complained so I eventually had to go back home. I know you say – YOU CRAZY? Remember, this is a severe child abuse issue and trauma case and when you are brainwashed to doing what your parents tell you to do and you are part of this family system – no matter how damaging; it’s the only thing you can see at that point. Yes, I went back but only for a few days when my dad enlisted me in the United States Marine Corps.
I managed to complete high school on my own. I then went into the United States Marine Corps. and did my thing with an Honorable Discharge. I then went on to experience life the best I could – considering that by this point in time I was so battered from the trauma already and then immediately endured USMC boot camp and Infantry Training.
The really crazy thing about the Marines is that it is a whole story in itself. I will write about it in detail eventually. When I went into bootcamp; I was only 1 to 1 1/2 months from that horrible beating and was still neglected. I was enlisted at 90 lbs. literally.
At the required dental screening in boot camp the dental hygienist looked into my mouth; — he was so horrified that he screamed out. No joke! You see; I was so abused and neglected that my parents would never let me brush my teeth. Imagine a kid growing up all the way to teens without brushing teeth.
As disgusting as that sounds; it is true and this man looked into my mouth and it was then I realized the horror for myself. The even more horrible thing is that I was so starved and malnourished that my baby teeth and adult teeth were both extruded and twisted and bent. I was considered by man a “monster”. Through my teenage years I endured much bullying and taunts because of my face. It was distorted. Two sets of teeth were occupying the same dental space; my mouth made me look like a monster.
Eventually, one day I went to an orthodontist on my own; where they were so horrified they considered me a special case. They did all kinds of documentation. On my own money; a poor person; I eventually went through surgery where everything not needed was removed. It was brutal; it was so painful; the recuperation so painful. Then for the next years; as I began to support myself with work here and there I managed to pay my way to fix my teeth. Over years they moved teeth from the left of the mouth to the right and vice versa; both up and down. The process literally moved teeth around in my mouth like you wouldn’t believe and then the pulling back; oh my god – I’m glad it’s over.
Around here in time…
There came a point where I broke down.
I did manage to pull it together. It was so long ago; but something happened that let me have a normal life like other people in certain respects. Considering that I just endured many years of trauma with no therapy or recuperation, I somehow managed to go on but without skills other people have in life.
When I finally said goodbye to my parents; I did not have any skills in life as I was sheltered; like caged almost living among thousands of roaches; never having a bed to sleep in; had to sleep on the floor and having to drink out of the toilet bowl to stay hydrated as I was denied water and food.
I had no exposure to music; I remember there was one cassette “Grease” soundtrack I found and I managed to keep it to listen with one of those old cassette players. I did not know about economy; living; banking; how to do much of anything. This was the extent of my neglect.
So the years go on…
Since I was beaten a lot, and I mean a lot; enduring pain that no child should have to endure from their own parents; I was always tormented by the horrors of the memories of the abuse; over and over; waking me up from dreams with dread and terror. This is not a joke.
At the same time…
Anyways; I educated myself going from job to job; contract to contract creating a career for myself. Slowly learning. I was good at watching people because that was what I was basically trained to do in a weird way to protect myself from beatings by my mother and father. I found there were some things that I could absorb immediately; but others that things and ideals that are common to all people were foreign to me.
I did manage to eventually get therapy and shed a lot of what happened to me over the years and the years after the USMC. What a wild and crazy story that covers thousands and thousands of miles and road trips – going from work here and there and everywhere.
Now remember; even though I finally came to a point of peace and content in my life and have at least some success; the damage that was caused physically is always with me.
People in general do not know how to receive me; because they think I am somewhat retarded; I don’t think like they do because of the concussions and brain damage. There’s a few people in my town who have horrible words for me because they don’t understand me; and they don’t know me either because they don’t really talk to me much. I’m considered a nice guy in town for the most part but there are those who see someone like me and create idiotic words. I have no criminal record. Sometimes I get scared here in town; thinking someone want to bash me for no reason; big guys. So I stay by myself mostly.
I do not know how to do a lot of things like a lot of people do and also I am poor. Some men are mechanics. Some are lumberman. Some truck drivers. Some clerks. Me. Dweeb I guess. I say that lightheartedly.
During my years from about 22-40 I was always busy learning new skills in programming on the computer; creating interfaces and actually worked on a few of the early prototypes of what we call a CD ROM with digitized movies compressed and embedded on a CD at Spelling Entertainment in Los Angeles.
I remember that day that the Executive Director of Information Technology, John Sanders; was standing from afar – watching me programming on the monitor.
I was so skilled at it that the screens were just flashing by, and flashing by, and the keystrokes were rapid – it caught his attention. He was amazed at how I was able to do something like that. So I became the new guy in the department who got to get some of the good toys with regard to trying out new technology. One of our projects was creating a media player to play movies that are on a CD ROM. This was a tremendous thing back then in the early ’90s.
I am telling you that because that man was able to see what others don’t. If you give me a computer with the right toys I will create a razzle dazzle for you that will knock your socks off! But if you ask me how to do much on a vehicle; well no. Handyman work? Um. No. Not that I can’t I would have hard time in some things. I only learned to build a campfire, believe it or not; just about 3 years ago. You are scratching your head, I know. I’m dumb in many respects; it’s not my fault. It’s the brain damage.
I know this is a long story; but I wanted the world to know that when you listen to this music I create and eventually the movies; you will appreciate what went into what you are experiencing.
With that in mind.
Please listen to my music I created. I know it is all digital. There are no real instruments; I am sorry. There’s no singing; I’m sorry. I’m trying to create a product that is good enough in commercial quality I can sell so I can buy my neighbors who are hungry some food if they need it. Or pay their electricity. Or rent. We have low-income people here in the mountains and sometimes there will be some of us who knock on each other’s door to see if they can spare food.
So I created this to sell and not go to me; but to everyone else wherever it is I live.
Thank you for your time and watch for me in some venues.
If you would like to continue reading more about my story, click here and I’ll take you to Part 2 of my true story.
You can read about my town of about 200 people by searching Google or whatever “Metaline Falls” in Washington state. And there is a video on my ReverbNation page.