there were times…

There were times that I did’nt want to live anymore but the one time I tried to kill myself and was a split second from doing it-a car drove up behind mine and I was found out. I’ve never tried since but it was on my mind many times through out the years.

My life is reminded to me every morning when I use the bathroom…every morning. Not once has one gone by with out my head bringing back that night in barracks D-I can not wipe my ass with out thinking of the place because of the damage done being evident to this day. I am 55 years old and still feel the same emotion over and over.

My life was stolen from me that night. My parents nearly all but shut me out-and ever since that time never have they asked me for my version of the events leading up to my discharge-allowing me to clear my name with them. It has been continual-always…each and every time-if I fail at something they’d say ‘just like in the Navy’…or worse, just being treated like the failure by the entire family. My late brother Franks widow has never acted any way towards me but that of how one looks at a looser…and the woman has not an inch of an idea of what my life really is like. But the judgement is there.

Jobs? Jobs were the worse-I’d start a new job and there’d be some one there that reminded me of nazel voice mister and off I’d go…quit before I started. It was my saving grace to finally find employment with a huge construction company that had hires and fires and walk offs return! I’d work there until the time would come some one would remind me of those people in barracks D or say something that would set me off…and off I’d go. I’ve had so many jobs people make fun of me about that too…how many jobs have you had?? Thats a lot. Fortunantly the construction company would simmer down or I would simmer down and get my job back…but not always.

For years and years I did’nt own an automobile and was left out to hitch hike every where I went…the real walk great distances to work story. It was inevitable I’d get picked up by a character that held simular possesion over me like the men in barracks D as if I had some signal on my forhead or some indicater…but always I would have to succumb to the beckoning of thier request-a mental twisting of the arm,and do what these persons pleased. Funny…success and succumb are on the same page in the dictionary. Like the words ruth and ruthless.

I wish I could die from all the filth that has entered me-unwanted filth.

One Response to “there were times…”

  1. melissachickie Says:

    Don’t give up hope ever! Find your hope in Christ Jesus. He provided a payment for all our sins upon the cross He died on for you and me and every soul here on earth or to come. When my parents found out what was happening, they practically shunned me. My mother left for Japan for three months after my father confronted me about it–acting as if I had some choice in the matter. The way my father approached the subject did not by any means encourage me to speak out, but to deny anything that was happening and did happen. I understand the pain you feel.

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