That Excellent Catcher

Memories of our own, childhood years, how this young boy, became, a man, the day he stood up, against, his own, father, translated…

Back when he was younger, my father was almost to the point of, abusive, harsh, disciplinarian.  He’d often used physical measure to punish us, the time I remembered the deepest was how I got strung up by the beams of my home, with my hands tied behind my back, and beaten up by him; and sometimes, my mother would be, beaten alongside us too.

And, just like all those, tragedies, with, too many, reasons, too many, excuses, and, with the erosions of decades of time, almost everything had been, forgotten in details; but, the heavy, burdensome fragmented memories would still, surface back up from time to time.  At around ten years of age, when you weren’t as tall as mom, you’d, fearfully stood by her side, watched your father eat his breakfast, as he’d, grilled your mother.  You can’t remember what he was so angry about, just that he’d, picked up an empty bowl, and, thrown it at your mother, who’s no more than three meters away from where he’d sat.

Maybe it was, instincts, reflex, maybe?  You’d, moved your feet, turned to the side, extended your arms, and, everything happened, lightning, fast, like with help from above, you’d, magically, blocked that bowl that came flying toward your own mother; the bowl was like a fly ball, after hitting your arms, rolled on down, a couple of times, and, halted, unbroken, on the, floors.

from being helpless like this…photo from online

You’d not cried out in pain, and was, shocked, and glad, that the bowl didn’t, get, shattered.  Perhaps, your father, in the midst his anger too, was, surprised, couldn’t believe, how the fast ball he’d, thrown, was, caught, by the kid who’d, never, practiced any catching skills, and, gave him an, out!

Afterwards, you’d never asked what was going through your mother’s, mind the.  The awful memories, ought to be, forgotten, just like you’d longed that you could, wanting to know, what you did was right, or was it wrong, in the moment it’d, occurred.

Many years later, you were, married, and your wife told you, that your mother, who wasn’t at all, talkative, had, mentioned it, many times to her in private, almost once every time they saw each other.  And mom was, smiling, with that sense of, comfort, “Ahhhhhhhh, that young boy…was…certainly, an, amazing, catcher all right!”

So, this, is a young boy’s action, to protect his own mother, from his own father’s, abuse, and, it must’ve been, a very, difficult childhood, to grow up in an environment so volatile, when you don’t know when your fathers are going to come home, and blow up at your mothers, and yet, this young boy stood up, and SHOWED his father, put an end to the father’s, hurting his own, mother.

The Fragmented Memories of His Forgotten Childhood Now Slowly, Remembered…

The memories of what he’d tried desperately to recall but couldn’t, all came back to the surfaces again…

The fragmented memories of his forgotten childhood now slowly, remembered, because, he was, finally, ready for them now.  The fragmented memories of his forgotten childhood, a childhood, full of, darkness, of pain, of hardships had been, blocked out of his awareness, for survival’s sake, and now, as he’d, survived those years, he finally started to, remember.

The fragmented memories of his childhood, now slowly, remembered, to say the impact was less, was a total, lie, because it wasn’t, but now he’d, matured, he could, better deal with them, more effectively, unlike how he may have dealt with them, had they come back to him, earlier.

the nightmares of the past all came back to life! Sketch from online

The fragmented memories of his childhood, now slowly, remembered.  What do you want from me?  He’d asked them, and, received, NO replies, because his past had been, dead a long, long, long time, and it takes them awhile, to finally, come back to life again!

The fragmented memories of his childhood, now slowly, remembered, it was painful, but, as he’d, reexperienced all the moments of trauma of his younger years, he’d reminded himself, that he wasn’t, that helpless young child anymore, and he was better able to cope with everything, like he was, watching a movie of his own, childhood trauma, as an, outsider…

A Bad Dream that Got Tucked Away, in Her, Deep Sleep…

There’s, that bad dream that got, tucked away, in her, deep sleep, she tried, to, extracted it out, but she couldn’t, it’d, ingrained itself, attached it self, too deep, into, her, deep sleep now.

A bad dream that got tucked away, in her, deep sleep, she couldn’t understand W-H-Y, or how it’d gotten there, why won’t it just, leave her, alone?  A bad dream that got tucked away, in her, deep sleep, that’s, her problem then?  To never feel, fully, rested, because even when she looked like she was, sound asleep from the outside, she’s being, troubled, by that bad dream that’s, tucked away, in her, deep sleep.

She’d run around in circles in her sleep nonstop, like those princesses in their dancing shoes that couldn’t stop dancing through the nights, and her mind raced in her sleep, and she’d, waken in the morn, feeling, tired as ever!

what she experiences…photo found online

A bad dream that got tucked away, in her, deep sleep, she’d, finally realized, that it can’t go on like this, she needed to, find the roots of everything that’s caused her, insomnia, and she went under hypnosis, and, the session revealed something so shocking to her, that she’d, blacked out.

A bad dream that got tucked away, in her, deep sleep, it’s now, found its exit, into her , consciousness, it’d, found that, entry point, and got that spotlight on that stage inside her mind, demanding, ALL of her, undivided, attention!

Her Father’s Chair

She got a call, her parents’ home is now, foreclosed, and, the individual who’d called her told her she could come, and take whatever she’d wanted out…

She’d, entered into, that darkened living room, the lights won’t turn on (electricity’s disconnected???), and, she’d, fumbled around in the darkness, and, stumbled across something that tripped her feet, and it took her back, into, her childhood (after all, that was the home she grew up in!).  She saw that chair, in all of its, older glorious days, how the velvet was still, unfuzzed up, how it’d looked, brand new, where her father, used to sit, with her, on his laps, after supper, patted down her hair, cuddled with her, told her countless stories!

Her father’s chair, that was, all the memories, she had left, of him, she couldn’t, recall, anything about her, other than, in the “presence” of that chair, like he’d, never existed, outside, the realms, of that chair for some unknown reasons.  Her father’s chair, it’d carried, that deep, dark secret, inside, the cushions, it’s the place, where her father, loved, playing that little game when her mama’s off to her book club, cooking class, or whatever the HECK it was her mama was into, during her childhood years.

the monsters in her father’s, chair…found online

As those memories all came, flooding back up, she’d, felt that chill down her spine, she’d, wanted to, escape, out of the room, but the room suddenly, closed down, and she became, trapped in.

Her father’s chair, it was, not a, good place at all, she couldn’t, remember any of the better moments she’d spent, with him, in that chair of his, and, she’d remembered how, he’d, used to, put his hands down her blouse, and, patted her tiny little, nipples, and, she’d felt, aroused, then, she was, overwhelm with, guilt!

Her father’s chair, she’d decided, to BURN that piece of memory down, and, she’d had the movers come, hauled that piece of dead furniture, out on the lawns, and, she’d, STRUCK a match, and, everything went up in smokes, and, she’d, burned the whole house down with it, and she’s still, NOT charged with arson, in fact, the city should be grateful to her, for, ridding the neighborhood of that, eyesore!!!

The Lies of the Ninth

The memories of trauma, suppressed, because the individual, was way too young, and, something DID happen, maybe, just not the version of the story that this person had told, to her/his, adult counterparts, translated…

There was something that happened when I was younger, that impacted me, something that’s, a part of, my chaotic memories…

At nine, my mother wanted me to test into the GT classes of an all-star elementary school, that’s, farther away from where I used to live, I’d gotten in, and, she’d, transferred me there.

On the first day of school, as I arrived home, I’d told her, that I was, almost, abducted by a bad guy, there was, a woman in a covered up motorcycle helmet that told me she’d brought the lunches for my mother to me.  I’d told my mother: back then, I was playing outside the gates of my school, and the woman asked me to go with her, I’d felt that something wasn’t quite right, because mom wouldn’t do that, and I’d, run scared, back to the school.  But, I wasn’t, acquainted with my new school yet, it took me, a long time, to finally, get back into my class.

As I’d told, I’d, started crying scared.  My mother was shocked, the very next day, she’d, called up the school, as well as the Department of Education to, we’d, almost gotten the case on the press; within a week’s time I was, transferred, back to my former school again.

But actually, this, was a story I’d, made up.

illustration from UDN.com

There were, two primary motives of me lying: to find a justifiable reason for me heading into school ate, and find a way to go back to my former school, that’s not based off of “I don’t want to go to my new school”.

Two years ago, with my deep-rooted guilt, I’d, told my parents this truth, admitted that I was, lying to them from back when in the family therapist’s office, and I’d, made up the stories, from an illustrated book my parents bought for me, “I Have a Way”, and, the details of what the woman whom I’d told had, tried to take me away, came from the illustration of a person in a helmet, trying, to take a child away in the pages.

Because my story was, fully-thought out, without any flaws, to the point, that my parents, as well as the staff members of the school all thought it was, true, for almost, twenty years.

Do children who read, really behave themselves?  The knowledge I’d gained from reading, taught me how to commit a crime.

And yet, up to recently, I’d felt, chaotic of this memory.

There was a part of me that felt, that might there have been, something that’s, happened to me, even though it may not have been, the version of the stories I’d told?  How else, would I come up with, the specific details, including what the woman sounded like, what she was dressed in, what her scooter looked like…………

The me at nine years old, I’d, watched the scenes, played on in my mind, as I’d, “retold” my mother what had, happened (and if I remembered correctly, the highest scoring section of my G.T. exams was in the “thinking skills in space and images”).  And, I’d, started crying like there was, no tomorrow, to the point I was, trembling hard, if I were lying, then, how come I had, such physiological response?  Could it be, that I’d, fooled myself into believing?  Or, had there actually, been something that’s, too awful, too shocked, for the me at age nine to accept?  So I’d, forgotten, and, altered this memory of mine, to make it, fictitious?

Several years ago, I’d gone to a hypnosis therapy session, to deal with the problem of ‘feeling a ton of pain, but I can’t cry”.  This was, completely opposite to the me at nine, who’d, “made up a story, that’s, false, and cried like it actually, happened.”

And yet, at the physical classes, I’d shown, the “reflexive response outbursts” in crying, as the coach helped me to relax my diaphragm, I’d, started, wailing hard, it was, a sort of cry, from the depth of my body.

The coach told me, that the diaphragm is a place where, “unresolved emotions are, stored”, so, there may be, some sort of, very deep trauma from long ago, that’s still, not yet, entered, into my consciousness, stayed still inside of my body.

I’d instinctively felt, that in the lies I’d told when I was nine, there might have been something, that’s made me stuck, as a twenty-nine year-old, grown up right now.

So, something definitely happened to you, because of the physiological response of your body, and this sort of a response only comes, when the body had, experienced, something that’, extremely, traumatic, so, maybe something HAD, happened to you at age nine, just not as you’d, remembered it, being almost abducted by a stranger, maybe, it was, something else, that’s, more serious, because the body, it, NEVER lies, and it’s, up to this individual, to dig even deeper, if s/he can, to find out exactly, what had, happened to her/him in his childhood years, and resolve what happened to her/him, piece, by piece.  And, until this person resolved everything, s/he will, always, have that thing that’s, blocking her/his path, from reaching her/his, full potential.

Some Moments, You Work, Really Hard, to Forget…

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t.  We all, have these moments, in our pasts, that we’d done something awful, hurt someone, when we never meant to.

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t, these are, the moments, that will, stay forever, IN your mind, haunt you, for life, and, there, is NO way you can, EVER, just, SHRUG it all off!

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t, like that night, that you should’ve gone STRAIGHT home, but instead, you’d, hit the bars, and got, picked up, by some LOSER, and, after a few drinks, the room, it started, swirling, turning, and, it all just, went BLACK…

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just can’t, those, are the moments, that imprinted themselves, onto your GUILTY conscience, and, your guilty conscience will, ALWAYS, keep these moments for you, even IF, you worked, your ASSES off, to block it all out.

Those Blurred Out Memories

There’s that file folder, or maybe, a file cabinet, maybe, with those, blurred out memories, that you’re still keeping for reasons, I wouldn’t know.  Those blurred out memories, why you keepin’ ‘em?  In hopes, that one day, they’ll all become cleared up, without the fogs surrounding them one day on their own?

Those blurred out memories, no use trying to remember their contents, they’re unimportant, that, was why you’re minds “deleted” those files, but just, hadn’t gotten around, to clean out the trash yet!  Those blurred out memories, what, do you think you’ll find, when you’d wiped the dusts away, when they’d become clear again?  Are you looking for forgiveness, to be delivered from them, the way that believing in god would deliver you away from your sins?

Those blurred out memories, let them stay blurred out, because, IF you wipe all those fogs away, what you find, maybe too shocking for you to accept, so, just leave it well enough alone now, you hear!

Those blurred out memories, what, do you hope, to achieve, by making them clear again?  And, are you, ready, to ACCEPT the consequences, of finding out what, exactly it is, that they entail?  Are you ready, to discover, what actually, lies beneath???

Memories of Pain from the Childhood Years Carried Over

Because during those childhood years, your brains are still, under development?  Which makes you that much MORE susceptible…

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, and spilled into your adulthoods, and, it’s like that oil rig that leaked in the Gulf, that managed, to trap all those water fowls?  A HUGE mess!

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, and, there’s NO way you can, rid of them all, even IF you’d managed to, block them out of your minds when you’re awake, who’s to say that they won’t come back, in the midnight hours, and disturb you, in your sweet dreams?

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, because in childhood, your brains are still developing, which means, that things can easily get imprinted, and, you’ll carry those scars for the rest of your lives.

Memories of pains from the childhood years carried over, there’s NO doubt, and, because you got NO clue, ‘cuz you didn’t want to know, what exactly happened to you as a kid, that, is why you’re still currently, rolling, in that god DAMN, snowballing VICIOUS cycle, and, you will, keep on rolling, rolling, rolling…………

His Nights, Consumed by the Shadows

His nights, consumed by the shadows, and, he’d just, pull those way too not thick-enough covers over his head…

His nights, consumed by the shadows, and he has absolutely NO recollections, of WHEN those shadows started showing up in his nights, and now, they would, pay him visits, every single night, and, he just, couldn’t fend them off at all.

His nights, consumed by the shadows, it’d become, too grueling, for him to cope now, and, in order, to NOT let those shadows into his mind, he’d forced himself, to stay awake, ALL through the nights, and, during the daytime, because he couldn’t sleep at all at night, he’d become, lethargic, and, couldn’t do anything REPRODUCTIVE at all!

His nights, consumed by the shadows, there’s no way he’d found, that he could use, to effectively, chase all those nightmares away, after all, they (the nightmares) were all, sown down, into the field of his mind when he was real young………

Childhood, Hauting You

You don’t know why, but, you’d been, haunted by those childhood days from so very long ago…

Childhood, haunting you, because you’d NEGLECTED to pay enough attention to that damaged child that’s within you, and now, s/he is coming back, night, AFTER night, gnawing you, making you feel her/his (depending on your gender!!!) pains.

Childhood, haunting you, how, do you get rid of it?  You can’t, unless, you can find H.G. Wells, and have him build you that Time Machine, so you can go back, and change things, but, H.G. Wells is already DEAD!  Childhood, haunting you, how can this be, you’d wondered to yourselves, I’d left my childhood, so very long ago, and I’m already, an adult, so, how come, I’m still gnawed, by these painful sensations that I’m, just, remembering now???

Childhood will ALWAYS haunt you, as you were, just like me, ABUSE and NEGLECTED by those two PRIMARY attachment figures in your lives (hello, hello, hello???), and you still have NO way out, of that messed up state of mind you’re still currently, STUCK inside of!