The Stripping Away of My Identity

The Stripping Away of My Identity

I wanted to unpack my memories in this place like a ‘series of unfortunate events’, and I shall, yet, however, for my own sake of grasping onto sanity as I walk this journey once again, I feel the need to summarize it first. When I think back to this coastal city and even when I look back over my school memories book, like I did once again this morning, I am of two minds about it all. In so many ways this was an amazing place for me. I blossomed and grew into someone I had wanted to be and in a lot of ways I still am to this day. But it came at a cost. It cost me a part of my soul. My identity. I fucking went through hell and emerged scarred, beaten, bruised, and wounded. I don’t know what normal is anymore and I fucking have this place to thank for that. This incredible passion and this incredible hatred somehow mix together and continues to hold a tension for me whenever I think about this place.

I was stabbed in the head with a lead filled pencil, the tip breaking off and the doctor needing to surgically remove it. I was introduced to pornography when my little brother found someone’s hidden stash of old playboy magazines hidden in the dugout of some long forgotten baseball infrastructure. I was initiated into Rosicrucianism by my mother, and taught transcendental meditation, telekinesis, and various mind control methods, while disciplining myself with deep meditation techniques that I practiced like a piano prodigy would practice the piano. I fell in love for the first time but had my heart broken like a bad Romeo and Juliet play. I was beaten and chocked unconscious on one occasion by someone half my size, just after he forced me to eat his scab. Just before the beating I yelled at my brother to go get help and later when I arrived at home he was sitting at the table eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

I was tormented and beat up constantly by groups of bullies and told from my mother that it was my problem, except on the one occasion that my bloodied face and bruises were too much so she loaded me into the car and went and told off the bully’s mother. I was told to take a special IQ test as a result of a new initiative from the Ministry of Education and as a result I was taken out of regular class and placed in what was a gifted class, the result of obtaining what would be the equivalent of straight A’s. I also have flashbacks and psychedelic memories of sexual abuse where I am forced to perform fellatio on some older male figure but quite can’t make out who it is, however those memories fucked me up in regards to my sexual identity and sexual life for a very long time. I also ‘became blood brothers’ with some other kid I knew, the result of him pulling out a very large knife and each of us slicing our thumbs so they were bleeding and joining them together in some sort of weird ritualistic way. It was done in the privacy of his room and somehow it just seemed the normal thing to do.

In every way I was singled out during my time in this city and over time and another city I grew to resent it. I grew to loathe it and as a result I became filled with an insatiable anger. I grew to resent my mother to the point of destroying any pictures I had of her. In fact, over time I systematically destroyed any memories that I could get my hands on, deconstructing my childhood into oblivion. The only reason that I have my childhood memory books now is because they were given to me much, much later, as an adult, when I was now married and in a different place emotionally. During the years that followed this place, my spiritual focus and discipline would take me further and further into eastern mysticism, and deeper and deeper into their faiths and their religious practices. I would eventually find my way to occultism and dark magic before coming to the end of my rope in my later teenage years.

This beautiful coastal city, so alive with magic and wondrous daily discoveries was eating me alive and I didn’t know it. I was tormented and I ran to nature to escape. Apparently at some point one of my nicknames was ‘nature boy’ as I spent every available moment I could in nature. I loved and admired every animal. I longed to be out in nature, camping and just being. I would spend hours and hours sitting at the top of the high forest trees at the back of our yard, escaping with my thoughts and fantasies of far away places. Even when I fell out of the tree once, hitting every branch on the way down it didn’t stop me climbing back up. I would go into the snake pit to capture snakes and race them in my back yard. I would chase frogs and try to capture crabs and trout and anything else I could get my hands on.

I loved that place but I hated it as well.

It took the hopes and dreams and ideas forming in a young boy’s heart and mind and shit on them. Then it took the boy’s face and mushed it into the pile while cruelly mocking him. Then tossing this young boy’s head back it punched the boy in the gut and across the chin before kicking the boy in the groin, leaving the young boy moaning, lying on the ground in the fetal position.

I hated this place but I loved it as well.


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