History

Sometimes there are people who come into your life that you would swear to God that they were a literal angel posing as a human being. I know that this is not true, but there were two people who came into my life who saved me, one physically, and one mentally and emotionally. Bell Sanders and Jerry Patrick. Beautiful Bell will get her own blog, this one is about Coach Patrick. Jerry Patrick was a coach, and my PE teacher from 4th grade to graduation, and he was my coach for both Junior High and High School basketball teams. But he was not like the stereotypical dumb jock gone to seed. He was kind, and gentle, and understanding. But he seemed to really care. He embodied all best the best things a teacher could be, and he wanted us to be the absolute best selves that we could be. But not just in sports, many times I was called into his office and given a lecture on being a better person. And they were not a Drill Sargent “get your shit together, private!” harangues, instead it was deep and inspirational guidance. The man had a can on his desk with…

Life was not all bad, no matter what you have read so far. I was a happy, carefree child in general. Most of my memories are of playing alone around the farm, in the trees that run along the river. I played all day in ditches, with sticks, and mud, rocks, and leaves. I lived wild yes, but there was a simplicity to it, a kind of peace. It was a counter-balance to the random chaos that was my home-life. And there were good times, fun times scattered here and there with siblings. My father’s drinking had slowed significantly. I would have to say that I think that life got pretty good during my fourth through sixth grade years. But then, my father made a very bad choice. You see, my parents had this sick game that they played with each other in that they would try to catch the other one cheating. Now this in itself is not unusual, many couples have this unhealthy way of dealing with their personal insecurities and jealousy. The thing that made this unusual is that they choose to actively involve their children, most parents would be able to see how damaging these adult…

I have “mommy issues.” Saying that I have mommy issues is a huge understatement, a short-hand for saying that I am fully aware that the relationship with my mother is causing problems in my current life. And saying this, is an overly wordy way of saying that I am allowing her to have power over me from beyond the grave, and it makes me angry, not only with her, but with myself. I am angry that I just cannot seem to let go of what I know I need to let go of, the anger, the resentment, and the absolute disdain. And, this is what my therapist considered to be progress. The truth was that before this, I had shut off all emotions and connections to her, if any had developed in the first place. My therapist worked hard to get me to the point that I felt any emotions towards my mother. When I finally got to the place where I realized that I had all these negative emotions about my mother, that is about where my progression stopped. I just could not get to the point of compassion and forgiveness, my idea of healing. So, I decided that…

I have put off writing this part as long as I can, but now I have to tell you about my little brother. His name was CJ. The next question out of anyone’s mouth is going to be, “What does that stand for?” It stands for nothing. Honest to God, my little brother was named "CJ" because my mom could not decide on a name for him. Or at least this is what my mother told me. She told me that that she just could not think of the right name, so she decided to give him initials and then find a name to fit it later, and have his name legally changed. But then she got wrapped up in life and her own head and forgot. So, he remained just "CJ." And of course, through time, everybody got used to it, and he became CJ. The story that my mother tells everyone else, is that there was a man she knew, a blind music teacher named CJ, and he was an inspiration to her, so she named my brother after him. I do not think that this is true. Forgetting was just what my mother did. She would forget,…