holiday blues.....whats left of them

Well the holidays are upon us.....the memories come rushing in....funny how I sometimes can't remember too much and at other times they come in like a rushing river.

I don't remember too many of my childhood holidays....I mostly remember the crushing dissappointment of them. Recently, in therapy, I tried very hard to remember something nice about the holidays as a child and honestly could not come up with a thing. My mother was the crappiest gift giver ever....she still is.....she really has no idea who her children are. The last time I was with her for Christmas she have me such as sucky gift that I threw it across the room, my voice booming....."I hate it". I am sure that I had enough of those crappy holidays.....I am also believe I was in deep emotional pain. That is how it is when you fraternize with the enemy. I haven't seen her since. It was that day that I realized that she did not care......Wow that was a long time ago. I can't even begin to count the years.

Today, the holidays are not the same anymore. I am enjoying them.....I have been so lucky to some great men in my life....who have loved me deeply, given freely and really thought about what it was that I would really love. Shiny things, tools, music, potions, ointments, scents, beautiful clothing, vacations, their sweet, sweet words, instruments, music, every whim has been considered....I have been very happy with my chosen family.....I will alway love the men in my life...always and forever...thank you Jack, Phil, Duane, John, Dave Wavey, Brian and to the next man I love...thank you for loving me.

I no longer see the season as a depressing one, it is as it should be...happy, joyous, festive, totally enjoyable...full of food, friends and my chosen family.

Merry Christmas everyone.....remember...we heal, we live, we love, we laugh, we cry, we celebrate, we remember, we can forgive....(somehow), or at least let go for a while. This is a beautiful time of the year, enjoy it while it is here.

infantile memories (sic)

So here i go again. The onion is being peeled, layer by layer more is being revealed.

As i sit in group, listing to the men speak, hearing the suggestions of the shrink and the thoughts and realizations keep coming. I ask the Shrink a questions that went something like this; does this ever get better? All I could hear were the thoughts in my head...no it will never get better, you will learn how to deal with it but it will never go away, you can learn to except it but it will never go away, you will always have the memories, you will always feel the pain.

I start to realize the truth of it all.

A baby is so defenseless, it can only observe and take what is given. It can only cry for food, cry for changing, sleep, poo, over and over again....hopefully it will be loved, nurtured, held, changed, fed, over and over again.

What happens to the infant that gets ignored? battered? Does it feel? Does it reach out somehow? What happens to an infant that gets smacked around? Does it feel fear? Does it shy away from people? Does it develop properly?

What happens to a child that is not loved? Does it feel lonely? Does it cry out for attention? Does it pull away from other people? Does it yearn for touch?

What happens to that child as it develops in to a toddler? Does it stare out into a scary world? Is it afraid to explore? Does it trust anyone? Does it care?

What happens to the same child as it grows into a boy? Does it develop socially? Does it ask for what it needs? Does it have hope? Does it love? Does it feel happy? Does it pray?

What happens to that boy as he becomes a man? Is he brave? Can he feel safe in the world? Does he act out? Does he yearn for acceptance? Does he feel?

What happens to that man when he lives his life? Does he meet his potential? Does he love unconditionally? Can he find happiness? Is he afraid on everyone and everything?

What happens? What happens? What happens? He falls down a lot, he isolates, he is angry, he yearns for simplicity, he hopes it will all dissappear, he won't let you in, he builds walls, he lies, he cheats, he is so fucked up you may not want to know him.

this is too hard....i have to stop, i can't stop crying....more later

trauma therapy

Update:

One of the most important things about suffering a tortured childhood is getting past it. There are so many road blocks I can't even begin list them. What I can say it that there are issues small to gigantic. They all have to be dealt with and soon.

The first one for me was changing my name. I was born Steven Frank Guevara. The name Steven, all american as it is, does not fit me. I am not a Steven, I can't be a Steven. Here is why. Every time that name was called to be, it was followed by some sort of pain, usually physical then emotional and then self imposed. I honestly can't remember a time that I did not recoil at the sound of it. When I was eighteen, and literally becoming sick to my stomach every time someone addressed me, I decided to change it. I immediately felt calmer, more secure and comfortable with myself. Just the decision to do the name change made the difference. Today I am called Steban. Similar yes but without the negative backlash. Today I can walk with my head held high, proud of who I am, excited of what I will become and happy to be alive and living today.

So that is where it starts, from the roots on up. I have had to put down ninety-nine percent of what I thought I knew. I am having to learn new living and life skills.

I have started trauma therapy, addressing the PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) that I have lived with for all of my forty-eight years. It has not been an easy road. The first day I had a panic attack. The idea of exposing my most private parts of myself scared the hell out of me. I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought I would have to be with a bunch of men that I didn't know and would be forced to expose my self in the most intimate way, that I would have to trust that I can trust another human being with my most private stuff. I thought that I would have to believe that there was a chance for me to me a regular man. I thought that maybe I would have to heal and be comfortable in my skin. The truth is that I would have to do these things. So I freaked out. I didn't know if I could do it. I was scared that if I showed anyone who I was that I would be judged harshly, not liked, wanted or loved. I thought they would treat me as my supposed mother and be really awful to me.

To be honest with you this is really a hard process. I am learning skills though. Skills that most folks learn early in life. Things you learn from growing up with good, wholesome parents. You learn how to live, love, process, progress in life. These are the things I am learning today. I will say beginning to learn today. I get scared, I panic, I become overwhelmed, I shake with fear of the unknown, I am sad, I feel lost, insecure, small, invisible.

What I know though and what I keep telling myself is this. I am a kind, loving, exceptional human being. I deserve all of the god given things that any life is entitled to, happiness, love, respect, kindness, success, bliss, peace, unconditional love and loving.

I will succeed.

the effects of fear

One of the most effected parts of my supposed self is my belief in fear. It has frozen my soul on some level. It seems that the more I try to be fearless the more I am unable to do the things I need to do to take care of myself. Fear of people makes me not want to engage with some, yet my need for nurturing drives me to engage never the less.

What is great about engaging is the possibility of new found relationships, the possibility of a new adventure, new ideas, new friends, lovers, networks. I do understand the importance of engaging. On the other hand fear for me is something I am facing. It is a cage I am comfortable in. Perhaps it is the constant fear in my childhood, knowing I had something to fear, that keeps me in fear. That is something to think about.

It costs, fear has been one of the things that has had the most consequences for me. The fear of not getting my needs met, not being loved, not being enough, not having enough, not giving enough, not receiving enough, not allowing enough, not being compassionate enough, not caring enough, not loving enough, not being good enough, not hung enough, not hot enough, not pretty enough, not rich enough, not not not enough enough enough of anything.

This has kept me from people, places and things, my expectations are always too high, my boundaries to tough, has kept me angry, sad, anxious, depressed, frustrated and unfulfilled and unable to trust.

This seems to be the what I have been left with, the legacy of my tortured childhood. Today I work with a therapist to take on these issues one at a time. I am very aware of how I am affected by all of these things. I am overwhelmed with it all at times. I do what is must to stay sane. I is not an easy feat, it is one day at a time, sometime a minute at a time, an at the extreme times it is a second at a time.

I have just started a new group focused on trauma therapy. I can tell it is going to be tough. On the first day we were given a handbook that lays out the program for us and it offers all of the studies that are up coming. We are looking at skills right now. We are offered different approaches to dealing with our reactive behavior. Suggestions to wave off panic, and anxiety. To be honest with you I am not sure what to make of these. Yet I have committed to the process. I will make it though the process, I will be a better person no matter what level of pain I MUST walk through.

I am committed to not using drugs (illegal), I am committed to being a better and whole person. I am committed to supporting everyone in my new group (family) in the process of trauma recovery. It is scary.

Introduction to the child

He is a very young boy, with a horrible secret, so ugly that it cannot be spoken. He is suffering greatly, in pain, he has just been beaten again, his innocent hand held over a flame, you can smell the burning of flesh, the pain is on his face, he will not scream, just cry, for if he screams she would win.

As far back as he can remember...not a day passes without pain, without torture. Not a day without humiliation, fear, shaking, paralyzing fear, please don't call my name...leave me alone....please don't hurt me, leave me alone. please.

He is already strong willed, trying to save his life. It will take a lifetime. He is still trying to save his life. He know she hates him..he silently prays for help. no answer, of course...what is god?

She threatens to kill him if he tells anyone anything. So he agrees of course. She is a giant woman in the eyes of a child and would do it too. He knows what to do. Just agree. Don't cry, just agree, don't say anything.

You tell them it was you who burned it on the iron...if they ask...do you understand? I said do you understand. Smack, a burning sting on his face. do not cry, do not cry, do not cry. Now get away from me before i kill you. he survived....badly burned, welted, crying in pain,

She does nothing to help, die you little bastard.

no safety, no help, no way out.

She has done this before. He hates her to the core. he is only kindergarden age, 5 or so, very little for his age, cute as a button when his face is not distorted in pain. He is an innocent child, a beautiful boy, perfect, healthy, really sweet, so loving. He just wants love, he wants his mother to love him, he wants to be held, he wants to be loved.

nowhere safe, nobody safe. retreat, do not make a peep, make yourself invisible.

I know this child so well, I am he, a hardcore junkie, a red hot lover, a comics comic, a fool, a tortured soul, I love, I live, I work on it every day, with every breath.

this is how it was, at its most extreme, through every single day for fifteen years. Let me correct that statement with this, every day that there was not a possible witness other than my siblings. Yes they suffered too. Maybe not every day, but they did suffer greatly.

This is all I can do now. I will post occassionally as needed, to get it out, to warn the public, to educate anyone who will read this. So please feel free to pass it on to anyone who needs to hear the truth. to learn how a child is affected by this....reduced to nothing.

this is also a warning to those who are sensitive to these things, if you cannot deal with this posting...i suggest that you don't. It will be graphic, nothing held back. the full story as I remember it. As it comes flooding back from the places it has been hidden. deep in recesses of my secret world, in my head, heart, in my soal, kept secret. kept secret, very, very secret.