Thursday, February 18, 2010

Letting Go.

I feel the need to write to let somethings go. Venting.......so to speak.

Although I have visited these occurrences, I feel the need to let them out again. They will always be with me and I feel have impacted my life in a not so great manner. Talking about it eases those insecurities and fears. Just to bring it up in my daily life seems awkward and somehow without a purpose.

8 years old, middle class new neighborhood filled with kids. I found myself frolicking from house to house playing with friends. Going swimming, eating, playing games, riding bikes, imagining, do what kids do. Life was good. Our next door neighbors were half American and half Vietnamese. They had 2 boys, one 2 years older, one 1 year younger. The father was an American service man, the mother a Vietnamese immigrant. She and the boys made it out of Vietnam on the last plane out during the war.
Anyways, they housed many family members to get them on there feet in the new land. Dad was still serving and wasn't around much. The boys and I were great friends and did everything together.
One day at their house we were playing "I spy". Where one kid would take one of those little plastic green Army men and hide it in the living room or kitchen, while the rest of the kids were in the other room, like the bedroom. When the guy was hidden or camouflaged the rest of the kids would come out of the room to look for the plastic figure. It was a "you're getting warmer" or "Colder, colder" type thing. Hours of stupid kid fun. This day I found myself in a precarious situation. While sequestered with the group which included the usual group of neighborhood kids and some relatives that the boys called uncles, we were all flopped on the bed and around the room. One of the uncles, whom looking at it now was quite young,(16- 18?) slipped his hand down my pants. I just laid there, I froze. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew I didn't want anybody to see. I covered the front of me with a pillow. I got wet and didn't understand. Then the call to find the plastic guy and I jumped up and we all ran out to find him. I was shaking and didn't know what to make of this. The green guy was found and back to the bedroom where I tried to keep away from this uncle. He horsed around and wrestle around and land on top of me and shoved his hand down my pants and I tried to pull his hand out and I couldn't. He smiled when he finally took his hand out and it was all wet. I was 8 for fuck sake!!! I didn't know what was going on??!!! I remember that this happened on several occasions and I don't know if any of the kids knew and didn't say anything or if they were just oblivious to the whole thing. I didn't say anything.
As an adult I've talked about it, and let myself mill it over. It was wrong on so many levels and it is one of my emotional triggers. It is weird how something like this can stick with you for so long and keep coming back. I've had more than my share of incidences and tragedy and in a very odd way it has made me the strong person I am today. Would I go back? Hell no! Do I need to go through this? Not sure, but I do.
There were way to many poking and prodding tests I went through physically. Operations, braces (leg and back), casts,and therapy. Kids teasing. The death of my father at 11, death of my grandpa at 12, death of my best friend at 13. Age 12 having a scoliosis operation and being in a back cast for 9 months and starting Junior High. Raped at 15 because I was stupid and got drunk and passed out at a party that I shouldn't have gone to. I know it wasn't my fault but I shouldn't have been there in the first place.
My younger life was full of all kinds of shit and my adult life has had its trials and tribulations.The death of my brother in law 3 years ago changed my life forever. I can honestly say that in the past several years, life has been pretty calm. I do look at myself now and realize, it's OK to feel. I have a lot to feel and it's been cathartic to just write some bits and pieces down.
My biggest fear in my life.......it has to be death. I fear it. I fear it everyday. I fear dying myself and losing my family and friends. I love so deep and that scares me.

Wheeew. I knew.......I just knew I needed to barf all of this out. I just didn't know when.

Wow. Too much Information.

6 comments:

Sulpicia said...

I am fairly certain the people who read you, especially those that have for some time, will not think this is too much information. It's only too much information when you keep it stifled inside. And then it's too much for YOU. Be gentle with yourself... XS

Stella D. said...

thank you for sharing.... it feels good to get this stuff out! and its *good* to.

Bob said...

It took courage to share information that is so personal and private.

In varying degrees each of us have crosses to bare, skeletons in the closet and secrets that stay with us, out of sight but never forgotten.

Sharing, as you've done here, really helps to purge our inner selves of the demons and allows those around us to love who we are even more.

As they say, what doesn't kill you (or drive you stark raving nuts) will make you stronger.

La Roo said...

Sulpicia- I just started writing and it just all came out. I guess it is was it is. I knew it would be better to let it out, you're right. Thanks for your kindenss.

Stella- Well who better to release your feelijngs to than a bunch of people you've never met. :) Actually it's nice to have others support even if you haven't met. I've met some really great people via the internet. You are right it is good to feel this stuff. It just has to be the time when you are able to sit with it and own it.

Bob-Thanks, I had to muster up the guts to spill it out. Wish I still drank. :) Oh I know I'm not the only one with deep seeded issues, but it was time for mine to stop haunting me for the moment. I just have to release some of the pressure sometimes. Having this blog has helped me do that time and again. Sometimes I think I'm stark raving nuts and then realize, so is everybody else. :) I'm not alone.

IronBear said...

I read somewhere that 1 in 6 women are raped during their life. As the father of two girls, I find that very disturbing. My late wife told me shortly after we started dating that she lost her virginity after having too much to drink at 17. It sounded very much like rape to me but I lacked the wisdom then to know what words to say. She went to a minister for a few months to help her deal with trust issues. I wish you some peace, La Roo.

C said...

no you are certainly not alone, i too have demons and skeletons. writing about it is theraputic and the blog is a safe place to do so. shit like this really makes me wonder why, as a people, we are here. why?

hugs.

c