First, I got dizzy...quickly. I was making gestures at Allen to ask him if I should exhale. I got dizzier. Everything around me began to morph into this clear, crisp, detailed CGI. It was like watching the most perfect 3D video game. Allen stood with his hands on his hips smiling. He looked normal, but everything else; the contrast of light and dark was greater and the colors were vivid. I remember saying "Wait a minute." trying to figure out what was happening. I couldn't understand what I should be doing in this "new world" so I stood still. Allen asked if I wanted to sit down and I responded in staccato "I.Don't.Think.I.Can" because my legs wouldn't move and burned a little. I was afraid if I sat down the burning would increase. I spotted a leaf, which looked a little like a brick fragment in color and shadow. I pointed at it, tilting my head. "I.Want...To...Pick...That...Up" I said to Allen. He wasn't sure what I was talking about. He asked what I wanted to pick up. I repeated "I.Want. To. Pick. That. Up." I was pointing at it and moving in short punctuated movements. I never put my arms down. I started trying to move the leaf with my mind. I was hoping I would be able to, but couldn't. Allen was talking to me and I looked towards him and saw what looked like a mammoth partially buried in the ground with grass and vegetation grown all over it. I wasn't sure if it were a statue or a real mammoth (with tusk and head showing). I was afraid that if it were real it was going to hurt Allen so I told him not to move. Everytime he spoke or started to move I would ask him not to. Something was coming from the other direction behind me also, but I couldn't focus on both the creature underground and whatever the other thing was so I stayed focused on the elephant.
At some point, everything grew darker. These personified creatures (black with neon lights outlining their form) were moving towards me. I became deathly afraid. I started to back away. Allen was asking if I was okay and assuring me he was there. I whispered that he wanted to hurt me. I felt like I was going to cry. I didn't mean physically hurt me. I meant mentally or emotionally. Allen kept trying to reassure me that he wasn't, but it was like I knew he was going to but he didn't. I repeated it again and thought I sounded like whoopi goldberg. He said he was my friend and I responded that I didn't have any friends. Either Allen or the creatures reached out to grab me and I started freaking out, backing up. I backed up into a tree but thought it was more of them grabbing me. I started flailing trying to get away from them and Allen pulled me back.
Memory loss.
I drew a cross on the ground and said "Dear God" or "oh, my god" then didn't want to offend Allen so I rubbed it away.
I remember sitting on the ground. The light was growing from the left. I felt peaceful and the light was beautiful. I wanted to look at it. It was so bright. I raised my hand and noticed that it was glowing also. It kept glowing brighter and brighter. I closed my eyes to enjoy the warmth of the light. When I did, it got dark and started to scare me a little. I quickly opened my eyes and the sharpness of the visuals around me startled me. I remembered at that point that I had taken something and reality ever so slowly started to seep back in. It was like I knew I was in the woods, and was aware that what I was seeing wasn't exactly how things were.
I saw a spider and it kind of started to scare me. I started throwing grass or twigs at it. Allen could tell I was scared and told me that it wasn't going to hurt me...that it was my friend. I calmed down and came back another notch to reality.
I spent most of the time unable to look directly at Allen. I was afraid for different reasons at different times. Sometimes I wasn't even sure why I couldn't look at him. There was a second time that I sensed something bad behind him. I just said something was wrong with that spot and tried to gesture to a dark spot behind him.
There were people nearby and I went from being afraid they were going to see me in that state to being afraid they were going to shoot us. I told Allen that I would try to take the bullets for him but couldn't guarantee they wouldn't go through me.
I remember wanted to make contact with my mom, through the light...but I knew I couldn't.
Everytime I thought I was close to being back to reality, I would go through this shock of realizing where I was. I told Allen I was trying to get back. I was desperate to get back because I didn't like being out of control, was worried about Allen having to take care of me. I think I asked him if the kids were okay and if Bud was okay. I asked if he was okay. He said everyone was okay.
I kept slamming back into different levels of reality (and it actually felt like I was hitting the ground, falling through each level), getting closer and closer to being myself. There was a moment I felt like I needed to run or to grab on to the world before I got pulled further away. I think this was just before I rolled over and laid face down for just a little bit. The world started looking more tangible and real.
At some point, Allen put headphones on me and played Fleetwood Mac for me. I enjoyed it but it felt like it was suffocating me. There was a moment I relaxed and enjoyed the music. During the beginning of the song "Everywhere" I could see and was trying to mimic with my hands these bright sparkles.
I took my sunglasses off and on a few times, though I don't remember why.
Allen got me paper and a pencil and I wrote "reality" then I felt like I was making some sort of plan and felt very authoritive. I was trying to explain things and fill Allen in on the plan. I wrote "Here's your dead tv" and Allen called me a dork, which got me off track and I started to write dork. Then I wrote "Mork and Mindy" which made me think of aliens. I thought I sounded like a reporter from an old 40's black and white movie, but Allen said I sounded normal.
I got very silly. I remember being thirsty but thought we were out of water. So I asked for a carrot but my hands were dirty so I asked Allen (who's hands were also dirty) to get a carrot for me. I was kind of on all fours and couldn't take the carrot and didn't want anyone to see him feeding me so I asked him to place it on my backpack, where I proceeded to eat it like a dog.
Allen asked me a question and I answered it (maybe he asked if I knew where I was). I responded that we were at Roman Nose and felt the world coming back to me. It was still a fight to feel grounded. I requested that he keep asking me questions because it was making me feel like I was coming back. He asked the pet's names. I couldn't think of the rabbit's name so I repeated "Lucy's" name.
There was a point he said we needed to leave and I all of a sudden felt certain. So I hopped up and started grabbing things. I said something like "Follow me and we'll make it out of this" or "I know which way to go" but I knew I didn't. To avoid embarrassment, I just took off in a random direction...into some branches. I finally let him lead the way out. I began to sober up fairly quickly, feeling bad that Allen had to watch me, worried that he was upset (he seemed upset). The more we hiked, the worse I felt. Every 30 seconds to a minute, I felt a little unsettled...but for the most part I was back.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Chapter 2 - I'll Say It Only Once
I was molested for several years by the same person. I won't say who. I won't give details. It happened and it played a part in my life. Life totally used my teen years as a dumping ground...and this wasn't the end of it.
Chapter 1? Yeah...I guess so.
Black southern family in the mid 70's, living in a small town is nothing new. A hard working couple with two sons of distant age. Father was Billy Sneed, Jr.; married to Lula Lee Sneed and worked in the oil field. He was a tall and lanky chain smoker with a swagger to him. He made good money.
Lula was a stay at home mom. She was overweight but proportioned, not afraid of foul words or an argument. She filled their house with nice things. You can do that when you're married to a man that makes good money.
Number one son, Willie Sneed. A short athlete, spending his time on football and girls. He was popular and charming, despite having a name that also represents the male organ. However, with his arrogance, it was appropriate. He made use of the good money that father made.
Finally, there was the other child. He was chubby-cheeked and rosy-lipped. His skin was much lighter, his hair much softer, his curls much bigger than everyone else. It was like that one pup of the litter that had spots while everyone else was of a solid color. He was full of smiles and curiosity. Eager to please as he was eager to find adventure, but as mother's piece of gold, that adventure was limited to the walls of his quaint old house. This child...was me.
Sure, I may sound egotistical with all of the descriptions of how adorable I was, but that was me. Momma told me several times how a woman who worked for a magazine wanted to use me as a Gerber baby. It's like being a Goldwyn Girl or a Malboro Man, but with mashed carrots. My mother turned it down, though.
When you grow up sort of...hidden, you assume it is just how things are. You don't question or compare. You just take it. You're just a kid. You don't question much of anything if you are getting the love you need. Love was not scarce between me and my momma. The most splendid memory (protected and fed over the years by my momma's recounting) was laying in her large bed on our backs listening to Al Green gospel music. I was in diapers still and patting my fat hands to the music with her. Happy little boy. Happy little Christopher...or Chris...or Chris-co, as a cousin called me.
When dad was gone working (most of the time), and brother was off wooing the women (most of the time) and mom was too busy to be entertaining to me...I usually had animals to throw my affection at. Throughout my life in that house, I had a rabbit named Prince, a dog named Baby, a male cat named Buffy, a puppy named Blacky, another cat named Snowball (later changed to KKK for "Kitty Kitty Kitty"), a couple of Cockatiels named Lucy and Ethel (later "Lucy" and "Ricky" when gender identity confirmed), countless chickens, cows, a turtle (I wouldn't go near), a chihuahua (that wouldn't go near me).
I came to rely on them more than I did Willie. He was always promising things and lying to our parents. He would rarely spend time with me, and when he did it always seemed like I was just luggage being toted around. After all, he had a different woman with him on each of our outings...why would he need to give me any attention? And that attention probably wouldn't have been craved if daddy wasn't off on a rig somewhere, keeping us cradled in nice things. Good money.
My mother kept my leash short. I rarely went outside and when I did, I had to check in every ten minutes or her nature-shaking voice would ripple through the house, out the door, and into every nerve in my body. Each year, from toddler to teen, that voice got louder and meaner. Eventually it was occasionally accompanied by a beating. Now, one tends to fall on either side of the fence with the "spanking issue."
No matter what you say, mine was a traumatic fit of screaming, flailing, and striking. I wasn't thinking about what I had done wrong during these disciplinary moments. I wasn't considering the philosophy of morality. I was thinking a lot of nothing, embedded with tiny particles of "please make this stop" when my undeveloped brain got a peak at the light of day. I was curled up in a corner blocking wild swings that struck wherever they may. Understand, though...it wasn't that I got spankings, so much as that the spankings weren't related to anything that made sense to me at the time. A belt to the legs if I didn't pick up my clothes off the floor fast enough. A switch (defined as a long, skinny durable branch from a tree that acted as a whip) to the back and hands when I accidentally dropped a glass. I got in trouble for lying and got the same punishment when I told the truth. If I tried to question what I had done wrong, the reply was usually "You know what you did wrong" and then more spankings. I think they went on until she got tired. So, my goal as a kid was to not get whippings, not to try and figure out what her system of justice and ethics were.
The older we both got, the more pain she tried to inflict. Here's the kicker, though. I was once a baby laying in bed clapping to "Christian" music. I said "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am". I was a gentle and frightened kid who knew nothing of the world outside. I cried when I saw other people hurting (even if I didn't know them). I prayed, laughed, and cared for people, even when I couldn't care for myself. I loved her deeply and these "spankings" were confusing and frightening, because all I saw was anger.
I was on edge so much growing up and wasn't allowed an outlet. I got in trouble for trying to talk to anyone, like my favorite aunt, about anything like this. No matter how bad things were, I was only allowed to express my hurt, anger, and sadness the way my mother wanted me to...which was not at all. So...as they say...we bottle it up. The thing is, though, that it is never really bottled up. It's never really far enough on the back burner. It's going to come out.
One peculiar way it came out was through minor self-mutilation. I nibbled on the skin of my knuckles and around my fingernails. On occasion, enough to draw blood. My parents and certain family members noticed eventually and would tell me to stop, but it wasn't conscious. It was not a hobby of mine...it was nerves and pinned frustration, funneled down into that little act.
Another quirk of my childhood was my imaginary "friends." I was not a happy child. My photo album would contain no pictures of sleepovers or vacations with friends. Relatives and my brother's many girlfriends were the only people that darkened our doorstep. Even that socializing diminished as I got older. The loneliness sculpted several "imaginary people."
These non-existent beings were not ones that I talked to, but instead the people I would "hang with" when I shut my eyes or the ones I would see when I stared off into the distance. Some part of me must have known that people would think I was crazy, though I never thought about it outright.
I would daydream for hours out of the day and at school, imagining a better version of myself sharing adventures with these people.
The comfort that this provided became an addiction. As the skies around this boy began to darken as he hit his 12th birthday and his 13th, I overdosed on this other reality. If the real world needed my attention, I would simply put it on pause, returning to where I left off as soon as I could. In this world, things were perfect and exciting and I had some control. I began to pull real people into these fantasies...usually men. I teetered as close to the edge of delusion as I could without losing my grasp on reality. I didn't believe these people were real, but I pretended I did. My mind was so precise that I never called anyone by the wrong name nor would I forget the hell I saw in reality that grew closer and closer.
Understand, dear reader, this wasn't depression's dance with insanity brought on by just getting hit for everything I did, being screamed at every single day, being forgotten by my only sibling, being teased and bullied at school by my peers and teachers(yes, we will get there), psychological guilt trips from the parents, or being treated like an outcast by my grandparents. No, it wasn't a single one of these things. It was all of them...plus...
Lula was a stay at home mom. She was overweight but proportioned, not afraid of foul words or an argument. She filled their house with nice things. You can do that when you're married to a man that makes good money.
Number one son, Willie Sneed. A short athlete, spending his time on football and girls. He was popular and charming, despite having a name that also represents the male organ. However, with his arrogance, it was appropriate. He made use of the good money that father made.
Finally, there was the other child. He was chubby-cheeked and rosy-lipped. His skin was much lighter, his hair much softer, his curls much bigger than everyone else. It was like that one pup of the litter that had spots while everyone else was of a solid color. He was full of smiles and curiosity. Eager to please as he was eager to find adventure, but as mother's piece of gold, that adventure was limited to the walls of his quaint old house. This child...was me.
Sure, I may sound egotistical with all of the descriptions of how adorable I was, but that was me. Momma told me several times how a woman who worked for a magazine wanted to use me as a Gerber baby. It's like being a Goldwyn Girl or a Malboro Man, but with mashed carrots. My mother turned it down, though.
When you grow up sort of...hidden, you assume it is just how things are. You don't question or compare. You just take it. You're just a kid. You don't question much of anything if you are getting the love you need. Love was not scarce between me and my momma. The most splendid memory (protected and fed over the years by my momma's recounting) was laying in her large bed on our backs listening to Al Green gospel music. I was in diapers still and patting my fat hands to the music with her. Happy little boy. Happy little Christopher...or Chris...or Chris-co, as a cousin called me.
When dad was gone working (most of the time), and brother was off wooing the women (most of the time) and mom was too busy to be entertaining to me...I usually had animals to throw my affection at. Throughout my life in that house, I had a rabbit named Prince, a dog named Baby, a male cat named Buffy, a puppy named Blacky, another cat named Snowball (later changed to KKK for "Kitty Kitty Kitty"), a couple of Cockatiels named Lucy and Ethel (later "Lucy" and "Ricky" when gender identity confirmed), countless chickens, cows, a turtle (I wouldn't go near), a chihuahua (that wouldn't go near me).
I came to rely on them more than I did Willie. He was always promising things and lying to our parents. He would rarely spend time with me, and when he did it always seemed like I was just luggage being toted around. After all, he had a different woman with him on each of our outings...why would he need to give me any attention? And that attention probably wouldn't have been craved if daddy wasn't off on a rig somewhere, keeping us cradled in nice things. Good money.
My mother kept my leash short. I rarely went outside and when I did, I had to check in every ten minutes or her nature-shaking voice would ripple through the house, out the door, and into every nerve in my body. Each year, from toddler to teen, that voice got louder and meaner. Eventually it was occasionally accompanied by a beating. Now, one tends to fall on either side of the fence with the "spanking issue."
No matter what you say, mine was a traumatic fit of screaming, flailing, and striking. I wasn't thinking about what I had done wrong during these disciplinary moments. I wasn't considering the philosophy of morality. I was thinking a lot of nothing, embedded with tiny particles of "please make this stop" when my undeveloped brain got a peak at the light of day. I was curled up in a corner blocking wild swings that struck wherever they may. Understand, though...it wasn't that I got spankings, so much as that the spankings weren't related to anything that made sense to me at the time. A belt to the legs if I didn't pick up my clothes off the floor fast enough. A switch (defined as a long, skinny durable branch from a tree that acted as a whip) to the back and hands when I accidentally dropped a glass. I got in trouble for lying and got the same punishment when I told the truth. If I tried to question what I had done wrong, the reply was usually "You know what you did wrong" and then more spankings. I think they went on until she got tired. So, my goal as a kid was to not get whippings, not to try and figure out what her system of justice and ethics were.
The older we both got, the more pain she tried to inflict. Here's the kicker, though. I was once a baby laying in bed clapping to "Christian" music. I said "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am". I was a gentle and frightened kid who knew nothing of the world outside. I cried when I saw other people hurting (even if I didn't know them). I prayed, laughed, and cared for people, even when I couldn't care for myself. I loved her deeply and these "spankings" were confusing and frightening, because all I saw was anger.
I was on edge so much growing up and wasn't allowed an outlet. I got in trouble for trying to talk to anyone, like my favorite aunt, about anything like this. No matter how bad things were, I was only allowed to express my hurt, anger, and sadness the way my mother wanted me to...which was not at all. So...as they say...we bottle it up. The thing is, though, that it is never really bottled up. It's never really far enough on the back burner. It's going to come out.
One peculiar way it came out was through minor self-mutilation. I nibbled on the skin of my knuckles and around my fingernails. On occasion, enough to draw blood. My parents and certain family members noticed eventually and would tell me to stop, but it wasn't conscious. It was not a hobby of mine...it was nerves and pinned frustration, funneled down into that little act.
Another quirk of my childhood was my imaginary "friends." I was not a happy child. My photo album would contain no pictures of sleepovers or vacations with friends. Relatives and my brother's many girlfriends were the only people that darkened our doorstep. Even that socializing diminished as I got older. The loneliness sculpted several "imaginary people."
These non-existent beings were not ones that I talked to, but instead the people I would "hang with" when I shut my eyes or the ones I would see when I stared off into the distance. Some part of me must have known that people would think I was crazy, though I never thought about it outright.
I would daydream for hours out of the day and at school, imagining a better version of myself sharing adventures with these people.
The comfort that this provided became an addiction. As the skies around this boy began to darken as he hit his 12th birthday and his 13th, I overdosed on this other reality. If the real world needed my attention, I would simply put it on pause, returning to where I left off as soon as I could. In this world, things were perfect and exciting and I had some control. I began to pull real people into these fantasies...usually men. I teetered as close to the edge of delusion as I could without losing my grasp on reality. I didn't believe these people were real, but I pretended I did. My mind was so precise that I never called anyone by the wrong name nor would I forget the hell I saw in reality that grew closer and closer.
Understand, dear reader, this wasn't depression's dance with insanity brought on by just getting hit for everything I did, being screamed at every single day, being forgotten by my only sibling, being teased and bullied at school by my peers and teachers(yes, we will get there), psychological guilt trips from the parents, or being treated like an outcast by my grandparents. No, it wasn't a single one of these things. It was all of them...plus...
Clough
I am...
1. I am attractive.
2. I am smart.
3. I understand things.
4. I am resourceful.
5. I am wealthy.
6. I am brave / courageous
7. I am a performer.
Thanks
1. I am thankful for my voice.
2. I am thankful for my friends.
3. I am thankful for my income.
4. I am thankful for my looks.
6. I am thankful for coffee with friends.
7. I am thankful for positive male attention.
1. I am attractive.
2. I am smart.
3. I understand things.
4. I am resourceful.
5. I am wealthy.
6. I am brave / courageous
7. I am a performer.
Thanks
1. I am thankful for my voice.
2. I am thankful for my friends.
3. I am thankful for my income.
4. I am thankful for my looks.
6. I am thankful for coffee with friends.
7. I am thankful for positive male attention.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Clough
Thankful
1. I am thankful for creative energy.
2. I am thankful for opportunities
3. I am thankful for lessons I've learned.
4. I am thankful that my past relationships have ended.
5. I am thankful that people want to hang out with me.
6. I am thankful for Bud.
7. I am thankful for my bed.
I am...
1. I am attractive.
2. I am confident.
3. I am stable.
4. I am intelligent.
5. I am funny.
6. I am stylish.
7. I am resilient.
1. I am thankful for creative energy.
2. I am thankful for opportunities
3. I am thankful for lessons I've learned.
4. I am thankful that my past relationships have ended.
5. I am thankful that people want to hang out with me.
6. I am thankful for Bud.
7. I am thankful for my bed.
I am...
1. I am attractive.
2. I am confident.
3. I am stable.
4. I am intelligent.
5. I am funny.
6. I am stylish.
7. I am resilient.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Clough
Thankful
1. I am thankful for the ability to give money to other people.
2. I am thankful for what I have been able to get fixed at work.
3. I am thankful that people are willing to follow me when I'm on a mission.
4. I am thankful for my creativity.
5. I am thankful for Bud
6. I am thankful for my age.
7. I am thankful for my rabbits.
I AM'S.
1. I am attractive.
2. I am intelligent.
3. I am brave and confident.
4. I am happy.
5. I am amazing.
6. I am charming.
7. I am focused.
8. I am creative.
9. I am talented.
1. I am thankful for the ability to give money to other people.
2. I am thankful for what I have been able to get fixed at work.
3. I am thankful that people are willing to follow me when I'm on a mission.
4. I am thankful for my creativity.
5. I am thankful for Bud
6. I am thankful for my age.
7. I am thankful for my rabbits.
I AM'S.
1. I am attractive.
2. I am intelligent.
3. I am brave and confident.
4. I am happy.
5. I am amazing.
6. I am charming.
7. I am focused.
8. I am creative.
9. I am talented.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Clough - 11/1/13
I am thankful for...
1. Finding the chord to the camera.
2. For the camera selling quickly
3. For the nice chat I had last night with Jason
4. For self-discovery
5. For music
6. For my looks
7. For my enthusiasm
I am...
1. I am a positive influence.
2. I am strong
3. I am friendly.
4. I am smart
5. I have a great memory
6. I am happy.
7. I am safe.
1. Finding the chord to the camera.
2. For the camera selling quickly
3. For the nice chat I had last night with Jason
4. For self-discovery
5. For music
6. For my looks
7. For my enthusiasm
I am...
1. I am a positive influence.
2. I am strong
3. I am friendly.
4. I am smart
5. I have a great memory
6. I am happy.
7. I am safe.
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