Friends of the PTSD Forum; I want to say welcome, and thank you for your kind words to me since I first posted on this forum only a few days ago.
I've discovered that there has to "be spaces in our togetherness" as more than one of your posts have illuminated many of the areas that I need most to work on within myself... right now! I apologize in advance for the length of this post, as it has taken several hours with many breaks to get this all out. This is the first time I've ever been willing to share my story in a public forum. I only hope it will serve to encourage you to keep trying, keep living and whatever you do... don't give up; it is certainly not written to sadden you or elicit sympathy.
So, sparing any gory details for my own sake as well as yours, I would like to share my story with you. I have asked for your encouragement and your feedback in earlier posts... please feel free to continue to send your thoughts as you feel comfortable doing so, and "Thank You" in advance. I welcome any "conversations" through this media. This is also done to share my story with my present counselor for the first time.
I was born the only son of a traveling preacher of a right-wing fundamentalist organization. My folks also had a gospel singing group, and I was on stage by the time I was 2, singing and keeping time on my little drum set. How I loved to sing the old songs like "Church In The Wildwood" as a little boy.
But as with many performance families, the performances on stage and the messages of God's mercy that were preached from the pulpit were far from the brutal realities of our home life. My folks "ruled the roost" with an iron hand of justice and intolerance and my elder sister and I often paid for our small errors with the heavy hand of the belt, fly-swatter, "the board", or whatever means of punishment was available at the moment. I hated my parents for their violence and the fear that I felt whenever they were near me when I was alone.
Thus, by the time I was 13 years old, I was very shy, severely naive, and early demonstrated problems with authority in school. I was a terrible student and barely passed most of my classes. My only saving grace was that it was said I had a good singing voice and I took top honors in school in music, choir, and in local singing contests. My mother insisted that I take piano lessons since the age of 5. I hated her for it at the time, but I was grateful for that skill later on in life.
More trouble was brewing, however, more than I could ever imagine. A deacon's son invited me to a sleep over... I was sexually molested, yet so naive I didn't even know that he was a pedophile, but rather blamed myself for being in the wrong place, wrong time and being so naive. I was too afraid to tell my parents... they would beat me for any "appearance of evil," believing that they could "beat the devil out." They were sick, I now know.
I don't know why bad things happen to good people... or why bad things seem to happen in waves... to "kick you when you're down" as it were. It is a mystery that has always puzzled me.
A few months later, at 15 years of age, I was riding my bicycle home from high school and a cement truck ran a red light and hit me broadside in an intersection, leaving me in a coma with traumatic brain injury. I am told I lay there for several days, but I finally did wake up, a very confused soul, my brain blasted into "outer space." The doctors believed that due to the impact on the frontal lobe, I'd probably have some loss in my ability to think clearly and make decisions for the rest of my life, (that's putting it mildly) but they really had no way of knowing the extent of the damage with the limited X-ray scans available in the 60's. I find it utterly amazing, in spite of all the damage and subsequent "issues" with my very scrambled brain, that my natural musical abilities remained.
Following the accident, I avoided people, lost all my personal friends, and would spend hours in my Dad's church building when no one was there... playing the piano to every tune I could remember on the radio. I was especially enamored with the "slip-note" style of Floyd Cramer and would try to convert every song I played in church using his country style, to the disgust of my family. I was "fired" as the church piano player.
My grades "dropped through the basement" so my folks pulled me out of school to finish out high school by a little home-study correspondence course.
Then disaster struck again. My mother had a nervous breakdown, and my Dad left the family without any means of support, taking me with him out on the road to play piano for his revivals, but it was apparent that his only interest in me was in my piano skills. We often argued and it was a chaotic time. I was 16 then, angry, challenging... a disaster waiting to happen. And it happened, yet again.
He talked me into going to a Bible School... said it would look good for me to graduate from college so young. (Actually, I now know that he was just sick of my being with him.) So, I showed up, put my name on the line for a student loan, and started going to classes. I didn't even see the next "wave" coming...
A young preacher at the school had heard that I could play the piano pretty well and asked me to play for a meeting where he was preaching. Afterwards he said we should just get one motel room and split the cost to save money... seemed reasonable at the time, but then I never did think too straight after the accident.
Sure enough, wrong place/wrong time again, and I was raped. What little rational mind I had left was "splattered all over the pavement" and I returned to the college the next day... ashamed, terrified that he would come after me again, and so angry I was ready to kill him if I could get the chance. I loaded up my old 64' Falcon and left the college in the middle of the night.
The following 10 years were a blur of labor jobs, sleeping in my car in rest area's, and avoiding people as much as possible. I'd get lonely and try to have a relationship, but they were all disasters. The women in my life were mostly good people and they deserved the best, but my head was so scattered that all I gave was cynicism, distrust, doubt, and regret, and anger. The results were predictable.
Therapy was very scattered back then because I had no insurance... mostly free services offered by whatever state I was living in at the time, but nothing helped... I was just too far "gone," full of self-destructive anger, and wishing I were dead.
In the early 80's I met my second wife and we had one child (my only living child) that would prove to be one of the few bright spots in my life. My love for that little girl and my soul-determination to "break the chains of abuse" and give her a safe home served to balance my thinking somewhat. I am glad to say that she only received one spanking in her entire life, and that for lying to me. I remembered sitting on the sofa and crying, hugging her afterwards, begging her never to put me in that situation again. She never did, and I managed to keep a labor job of some kind and provide a nominal living for her until she was 18 years old when she moved out and began her own life.
The years had not been kind. Three divorces, three failed attempts in the military, five failed attempts at college, and over 230 jobs between 1970 and 2010. I truly despised my existence, and often asked God why he ever allowed me to be born. I do not know how I had avoided suicide, but for my intense love for my little girl and not wanting to hurt her by killing myself. I despised religion, preachers, bosses, any authority figure, and was severely homophobic. I did play keyboard for an occasional band through the years, but I could never get along with band members, so that too fizzled into oblivion. I was truly a "walking disaster area."
Just as I do not understand why bad things happen to good people, I likewise do not understand why things turn suddenly and start to go right.
In 2010 I was painting a house out in Kansas for minimum wage, living out the back of my old 91' Nissan in a state park, occasionally stopping at a library to check emails and read books. A year or so before, in a desperate fit of loneliness, I had posted a free profile on Senior Match, but believed that no one could ever love "a disaster waiting to happen" like me.
One day I got an email, and a lady from New England remarked that she "liked" my profile and wondered if I would like to email a bit. Lost in my loneliness, I was glad to have something to look forward to. The short story here... we emailed and Skyped for a few months, then I turned my old truck eastward to meet her at her request. I had repeatedly told her that I was a bad risk and I was certain that I would probably hurt her in the end. She would hear nothing of it... so I came.
We married on Valentine's weekend, 2011, and it was obvious that she loved me dearly... but my God... she did have her hands full with all the horrible dreams, panic/anxiety attacks, my anger at the drop of a hat... but she just kept loving me. This is why I appreciate the Supporters on this forum so much... I think there must be a very special and loving eternal reward for each of you, for the love, concern, and space you give the dear ones in your life who suffer so from their own versions of PTSD.
But, just as evil seems to come in waves, so does good. In the Winter of 2010, my soon-to-be-wife suggested that maybe some of the many nursing homes in our area might like it if I would come and sing for them, and perhaps even pay me too. It was too incredible to even consider that I would have enough worth to get paid for my songs, but she insisted and took me to hear an old friend of hers who sang a lot in senior homes.
It was like a light came on as I saw that if he could do this, maybe I could too. She made over 200 calls to nursing homes, offering a free concert to let them hear me. Suddenly, I started getting phone calls, and had 75 free concerts scheduled in less than a month. And they started calling me back. I was stunned that anyone wanted to hear me, much less pay me to sing.
The rest is history. Realizing that my dear wife was wearing thin from all the effects of my PTSD this winter, and that I would lose yet another wife unless I did something drastic, I threw myself into the Internet, trying to learn and understand my condition and why I behaved the way I always have. I made a lot of mistakes and I have had to go to my dear wife with my heart in my hands many times, asking forgiveness for my foolish behaviors. To date she has always had a forgiving heart. God, how I love that woman...
And calls kept coming in. In 2011 I gave 276 concerts, 76 which were free to the facility. In 2012 it was 366 concerts, with only 5 free ones. And, I have again that many scheduled for 2013, but now giving two free concerts a month to non-profit nursing homes with little or no entertainment budget... just my way of "looking up" and saying "Thank You, God."
This brings me to this last week when I found the PTSD forum on the Internet. Your encouragement in my 3 threads have already proven to me that opening up in this forum has been the right thing to do. I am still struggling so much. Even last night I had a horrible dream where I was being raped again... over and over... just awful. But now, at least, I have hope that life can get better, as I am seeing the first tangible successes of my life.
And so, that's my story. I would like to leave with you the words to a song I wrote a few days ago, when considering what to do with the rest of my life...
"Live right, work well, and do good everyday.
Give a smile to others that you meet along the way.
Hope more, don't quit, and have faith when you pray.
Life can be worth living if you'll do this everyday."
Blessings to you all, and keep smiling...:)
