I remember being wild, before I went to kindergarten at age 5. The world was a magical place, it was enormous, I played in the back yard alone a lot, I ate vegetables right off the bush in our little garden. Each day was an adventure, and I knew I was loved. When others were mean to me, I felt sorry for them, I knew they must feel really bad about being so hurtful. I went to Sunday School at church, where I learned God was all around us and in everything and everyone. I went home and ran around the yard very excited. I had found religion. My trees were god, my dog, my toys, the mud puddle I played in, the sun. I was still wild and free.
I had ups and downs in school, 1-3rd grade: speech therapy, hearing problems, ear surgery followed by being overwhelmed by noises, what they call then tantrums, (but I see now as meltdowns,) getting sent for testing and evaluation, being sent to a learning disabilities class for math, and at the same time the "gifted" program. 4-5th grade: being in a learning environment where being weird was OK, and also being bullied for being weird. Being systematically and continually bullied, but still thriving. 6th grade: Just when I thought things were OK Wham! puberty, And the realization I was attracted to other guys and not having anyway to deal with that, and absolutely hating myself for not being able to change. 7th grade: By now I had begun to be able to supress most of my meltdowns in public, but lived in a state of perpetual breakdown. I won a third place prize for my project at state science fair and in the picture I just looked dead. My father said that. "His eyes look dead". (like I felt.) Also beginning of migraine headaches, and the seeming blindness, bordering on neglect, of my otherwise great parents. Beginning of a deep, soul crushing, depression. I began to isolate and delved into my obsessions ever deeper. 8th grade: I kept my fathers pistol in my closet, in case I ever got the courage to kill myself. I wanted to die, and having something "wrong with you" didn't seem ever acceptable in my perfect family. 9th-12th grade: high school, My odd behavior and mannerisms attracted new older bullies. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time, dating, dances, hanging out, High school should have been the best time of my life. I had a car, I had a lot of freedom. I hated myself, alcohol to kill my emotions, By senior year I drank every day. I had no plans for a future, I didn't understand the concept of making plans that take years to unfold. And no one was pushing me towards anything. My grades were never good, they were trash by now, I quit trying, failed courses, got in some minor legal trouble. I was too busy trying to survive to learn very much, my life was trying to kill me. I just wanted to graduate, and really only to please my parents. They never asked me about college, even though they had talked about it since I was in grade school. They had given up. My parents (rightly) told me to go to get a job, or get out. In the end my dad sent me to a trade school for a year to study an interest of mine. I then joined the Navy to continue learning my interest and get away from who I was. Of course that never works and at some point I had to deal with my sexuality and my alcoholism. And later my reoccurring depression.
It's taken me a long time, but I sometimes find that wild boy in me, the one I was at four, when I could see the beauty and clarity of everything around me.
I had ups and downs in school, 1-3rd grade: speech therapy, hearing problems, ear surgery followed by being overwhelmed by noises, what they call then tantrums, (but I see now as meltdowns,) getting sent for testing and evaluation, being sent to a learning disabilities class for math, and at the same time the "gifted" program. 4-5th grade: being in a learning environment where being weird was OK, and also being bullied for being weird. Being systematically and continually bullied, but still thriving. 6th grade: Just when I thought things were OK Wham! puberty, And the realization I was attracted to other guys and not having anyway to deal with that, and absolutely hating myself for not being able to change. 7th grade: By now I had begun to be able to supress most of my meltdowns in public, but lived in a state of perpetual breakdown. I won a third place prize for my project at state science fair and in the picture I just looked dead. My father said that. "His eyes look dead". (like I felt.) Also beginning of migraine headaches, and the seeming blindness, bordering on neglect, of my otherwise great parents. Beginning of a deep, soul crushing, depression. I began to isolate and delved into my obsessions ever deeper. 8th grade: I kept my fathers pistol in my closet, in case I ever got the courage to kill myself. I wanted to die, and having something "wrong with you" didn't seem ever acceptable in my perfect family. 9th-12th grade: high school, My odd behavior and mannerisms attracted new older bullies. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time, dating, dances, hanging out, High school should have been the best time of my life. I had a car, I had a lot of freedom. I hated myself, alcohol to kill my emotions, By senior year I drank every day. I had no plans for a future, I didn't understand the concept of making plans that take years to unfold. And no one was pushing me towards anything. My grades were never good, they were trash by now, I quit trying, failed courses, got in some minor legal trouble. I was too busy trying to survive to learn very much, my life was trying to kill me. I just wanted to graduate, and really only to please my parents. They never asked me about college, even though they had talked about it since I was in grade school. They had given up. My parents (rightly) told me to go to get a job, or get out. In the end my dad sent me to a trade school for a year to study an interest of mine. I then joined the Navy to continue learning my interest and get away from who I was. Of course that never works and at some point I had to deal with my sexuality and my alcoholism. And later my reoccurring depression.
It's taken me a long time, but I sometimes find that wild boy in me, the one I was at four, when I could see the beauty and clarity of everything around me.
